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Hamlet was prone to sleep late into the day, but this was getting ridiculous. It was well past noon and the sun illuminated Denmark's land, cheerfully peeping out from the white clouds and spreading warmth to all who could witness its natural beauty. However, Horatio doubted Prince Hamlet viewed this in mirth or in joviality and he could already see his friend's tired, emerald eyes that seemed to lose its own light easily these days and his still body sleeping his precious time away, unamenable to move.
Horatio sighed. If only Hamlet would believe him if he told him that his eyes would always be more cherished than Heaven's sun! Alas, Hamlet would wave him off and would continue to be the image of a dead corpse rising from the dead when Horatio finally convinces him to stand up and enjoy the weather, all energy and flush drained. Horatio shivered, cursing his own dark thoughts as if Hamlet's mood itself enveloped him.
It's not like he truly minded, though. Hamlet might as well be dead by the way he acts now, but Horatio refused to believe it wholeheartedly. His dear prince- his dear friend- was so much more than that, even if Hamlet himself denied it constantly yet put up a facade when others questioned. Hamlet was, at the very least, warm in his friendship with Horatio, and that was enough for the latter. Though moody, Hamlet could be humorous and charming and talented and he was exactly all these things in Horatio's mind, no matter his tricky mind! He was beautiful, even with his dark, stiff clothing that matched his oppressed demeanor and his golden locks messy and barely adorned with his crown these days. No, even with the troubled mind of his dear prince Horatio felt deep within all his cells, bloodstream and sinew that Hamlet was the sun- his sun.
Truly, Horatio was not surprised when Hamlet didn't answer his knockings. "Dear Prince," Horatio called from the outside of Hamlet's bedroom, "do open up. It's a beautiful day and it would be a shame to not spend it with a friend!"
There was a soft groan from the inside, and Horatio smiled. It was never a personal insult. Hamlet was simply too tired to answer to many people these days, but Horatio got the exclusive honor of being the only person Hamlet would allow to see for more than five minutes per day. Horatio's heart swelled when he thought about how he was the prince's preference.
The young man opened the door and saw that his theory was correct: Hamlet, refusing to take off his black clothing in spite of the kingdom's protests, laid there curled up inside his lavish blankets with his eyes still shut. He was obviously not asleep, and Horatio wondered thoughtfully how much of his time actually consisted of sleep and not just simple rest for his dark circles were quite common these days, along with all the other former observations Horatio both found saddening and strange pride for.
"Hello, Hamlet," Horatio greeted, smiling even though Hamlet couldn't see him. "You've been in bed for quite a while. Do you wish to visit me on my daily stroll?" When Hamlet winced and was hesitant to answer, Horatio continued: "I'd love it if you were by my side."
Suddenly Hamlet stretched, yawned, and beckoned for Horatio to come closer, emerald eyes finally opening sleepily. Horatio complied, and when Hamlet offered his hand he gladly took it, noting its faint warmth. Horatio smiled. See? Not dead. That, at least, is wonderful. Absentmindedly he brushed his thumb over Hamlet's palm, more than glad to offer some of his own warmth devotedly.
"Horatio," the young prince mused fondly, a small smile forming at his pale pink lips. They were so much like pale roses, pretty and probably just as soft, Horatio thought and blushed when he realized he did not answer right away and was practically staring. "I thought you'd never come."
Horatio frowned. "Why, Prince!" he protested. "Not come? A lousy friend I'd be, if that! Do not let your faith in me waver, dear heart, because then I'd be even more worried."
Hamlet squeezed Horatio's hand reassuringly. "Don't work yourself up in such a passion," Hamlet chided. "I was only exaggerating. And- yes, I agree, if I were to ever believe you'd leave me all of hell would be out to get me!" He softly sighed, then allowed himself to take in his friend's presence. "How kind of you to visit me in such a state."
"You'd do the same," Horatio said with a shrug. "So, would you like to join me?"
"I think nowadays I actually have more patience than you," Hamlet teased with a more genuine smile, resulting in the feverish rush of Horatio's heart. "Why such a hurry? We have all day." At this, he gripped Horatio's wrist and pulled him in closer as if he was urging Horatio to lay with him on the bed.
"My sweet prince..." Horatio began to gently protest, but Hamlet shushed him. "Please come with me," he earnestly begged, and Horatio had no intention of actually saying no. Therefore, he allowed himself to be pulled next to the blonde, comfortably close to the prince's body on display (though covered with clothes and that damned blanket that separated them from being in a much more intimate contact). Horatio's hipbone collided with Hamlet's and he found himself entranced in the prince's childlike gaze beneath him, full of awe but mischief of some kind in which Horatio wished he could understand.
His hands found Hamlet's again, and Hamlet pulled their intertwined hands to his own heart. "You mustn't worry about me so," he said so gently that Horatio was afraid that if he made any sudden movement his dear sweetheart would break like glass hanging off some dangerous edge of uncertainty and longing. "Feel my heart?" Hamlet forced Horatio's hand to expand so that all of it could feel his steady heartbeats. "It is still alive, and it beats with my requited love for you."
Horatio's freckled cheeks turned crimson, and his previous smile seemed shy and now understanding. "Oh, pr-"
"Hamlet," he insisted.
"My Hamlet," Horatio said, suddenly clutching the prince's shirt. "I- well, you have rendered me speechless."
"That was, frankly, the point," his friend teased lightheartedly.
"Does this mean you'll come outside with me?"
Hamlet frowned. "Why would I go outside if we have this whole bed amid us?"
Choosing not to read into the suggestive words, Horatio pressed on: "It's so sunny outside, and I miss our talks in the garden."
"We can talk here."
"My lord, it is not the same."
Considering this, Hamlet's eyes turned hazy for a moment before meeting Horatio's pleading brown ones. "Will that make you happy?"
"Oh, very much so."
A deep sigh escaped Hamlet's lips, but it was more of a You're lucky I love you one than anything. "Then your wish shall be granted."
Horatio smiled, obviously pleased. "Then we shall leave right away." He took both of Hamlet's arms and pulled him up, being careful so the prince didn't accidentally fall. Hamlet's hands remained in Horatio's for a few quick seconds before running a hand through his messy locks. "You shall be the death of me."
"I certainly hope not!"
"Oh, I do," Hamlet mused suddenly. "How honored I'd feel if I could die a pleasant death drowning in you instead of the fate that is bound to await me!"
"My lord, no fate is terrible enough to inflict its cold clutch on you! I absolutely forbid it!"
"Well," Hamlet said ominously. "I certainly envy your faith and determination, my friend. Come, let's go. Before we know it, it'll be sunset."
The garden was a small portion of the castle outside, the only royal family members cherishing it would be the queen and Hamlet himself. It had a stone walkway that weaved in and out of the garden, containing a single bench and a water fountain and barely anything more. The sun hit the garden as it did the rest of Denmark but left a comfortable shade over the bench where Hamlet and Horatio spent the majority of the time if they weren't messing around with the fountain. Since youth, the small area had been theirs and throughout the years they still occasionally visited to pay tribute to their strong friendship.
Lately, it had been mainly for Horatio to listen to Hamlet's troubling thoughts and to comfort him by reminding him about their origins together. No matter if the garden suppressed some sad nostalgia for Hamlet, the prince admitted that simply being around the flowers proved a great help and rest from the rest of the world.
Horatio put one arm around Hamlet's shoulder instinctively as if trying to protect him from harm and lead the prince to their preferred spot. "See? Beautiful," Horatio said, hand now gently touching Hamlet's open palm.
Hamlet surprised his friend by eyeing him up and down before replying, "Indeed," rather cheekily. Horatio looked away, shaking his head in disapproval though it was evident that truly he didn't mind and strangely found his prince's words flattering. "Did you see the new roses that were planted?"
The prince shook his head. "Is that what mother was talking about?"
Horatio nodded. "They're by the fountain. They're lovely... Oranges, golden colors and even pink."
Hamlet hummed. "I was considering stealing a few flowers and putting them in my room... So even when I am too fretful to leave I have a piece of the garden with me." His emerald eyes looked hazed. "Plus, I was recalling your advice: how I needed a little more color in my life. That would certainly do, yes?"
Horatio nodded. "I am glad you've considered that."
"I thought you'd be." Suddenly he looked like he was back in the present, lips upturned. "'Tis the only reason I thought of it."
Horatio abruptly got up and jogged to the fountain, picking three different colored roses from the bush that bore them. He then hastily made his way back to Hamlet and held them out to him. "My prince, it would be my honor to present you with these."
Hamlet rolled his eyes. "I would say you are quite the dramatic, yet that would be hypocrisy on my part." He gladly took the roses, reluctantly taking in its sweet aroma. "Ah, just like the beginning of spring. Too bad it feels often as winter."
"Well, when you think so simply look at them."
"I'd rather look at you."
"Oh, how you do run on!"
Hamlet grinned. "Well, things are different, yes? We're not just schoolboys now. We've come a long way. I dare say I have the right to tease after winning your affections, yes?"
It is true they weren't as articulate in such a flowery way- yes, metaphorically and literally- and though Horatio noted the change he shrugged it off beforehand and simply accepted it as fact. Would past Horatio feel the way he did presently? Or would he still be overwhelmingly pragmatic? The change was subtle- at first. But the prince certainly had his way of captivating those we wished to know, either from sincerity or mere curiosity no different than an anthropologist studying a relic from an ancient ruin. But, Horatio thought, Hamlet was different with him. Perhaps it was he longed for a friend who had qualities he didn't, such as complying with logic over emotion. Horatio frowned. Well, he certainly felt more sentimental with Hamlet. It no longer scared him, but still, what an interesting analyzation.
"I definitely concur, my lord," he finally answered.
"What were you thinking of?" Damn, Hamlet read him all too well sometimes.
"Hmm. Well, like you said, we've come a long way."
"Yes?"
"It reminded me of... well, who I used to be. In my youth I was just a single child who studied a lot. I didn't really keep friends, nor did I really want them, and my whole life was simply doing what I was told and planning for some future." Horatio's brow furrowed as he continued."Well, that's how life was. But then I met you, and I learned that there could be so much more to life than what I visioned."
When he fell silent, Hamlet asked "Keep going! Don't leave me hanging like that."
Horatio coughed, muttered "'Course not, my lord," and continued: "I know it's odd to say- for you also were told one thing your whole life and went with it as I did, except you obviously had a more grand legacy to satiate." Horatio smiled teasingly as he met Hamlet's sentimental glance. "But still, I saw more of the 'richer' side of life, the more flashy ways of society. Moreso than that, I experienced different moralities- and through you, adventure and even the chance to dream bigger."
"How come?" Hamlet asked softly.
Horatio shook his head. "How come you do not know? Even as a prince- the most adored, popular man in the kingdom besides your father- you wanted more than just the crown! You loved fencing, performing, going out and seeing the commoners and participating in more than what you needed. You didn't let the prissy ways of royalty corrupt you- you kept going, in spite of all protest and the risk of blackening your reputation. That takes guts, and I admired that. You taught me to go beyond what I've known and to try. I owe that to you."
Hamlet's hand shyly squeezed Horatio's, and with his opposite hand, the latter brushed a strand of blonde hair behind the prince's ear. "Besides," he whispered, "You showed me the greatest love of all. I don't know what I'd do without you- or where I'd be."
A slight blush turned the prince's cheeks rosy and cheerful. "I suppose you've been taking note of my oratorical skills?"
Horatio raised Hamlet's hands to his lips and kisses the prince tenderly. "I've been taking note of all of you, dear."
"Keep talking..." Hamlet leaned in, eyebrows lifted and a smirk on his face.
"Oh, how you ruin the moment sometimes."
Hamlet laughed. "My dear friend, someone must keep you in check."
"I'm glad it is you, at least." Horatio laid his head on Hamlet's shoulder. "Let's stay here, yes?"
"I wouldn't leave you," Hamlet promised, and curled up next to his friend.
"The same goes for me to you."
"No matter... no matter the fact that I drag everything down?"
"Hush," Horatio chided. "You do not. Though in darkness you remain my sun, and time and time proves you are still strong. Trust me."
Hamlet's hand found Horatio's heartbeat once again. "I do," he said, a quiet declaration of love as he closed his tired eyes, at peace with his partner by his side.