by Jerry Cole
“You can sit down,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice even and probably failing. His heart was breaking all over again and all he wanted to do was tug Bobby toward him and comfort him.
Bobby nodded jerkily and took a bench a ridiculous distance away. Steve didn’t want any part of that, and deliberately shifted closer to him.
“I don’t want to break up with you, Bobby,” Steve said, because he needed Bobby to understand that. “I’m mad at you right now, and I don’t know what to say, but I’m not breaking up with you.”
Bobby let out a slow, shaky breath, and Steve suspected that had been the thought running through his head. He felt a little guilty for it, but also distressed that the uncertainty was even happening.
“My mother,” Bobby said, darting his eyes to Steve then back to the floor. “She was Princess Maria.”
Steve really should have put that together before Gregory showed up. Bobby’s expression when he had looked at the mural made so much more sense. “What happened?”
“My father,” Bobby said, mouth twisting on the word, and there was a heaviness to his expression. “Prince Louis wasn’t much of a prince. Maria came from a European family, set to marry the future Grand Prince of Mercia for peace and prosperity and all that shit. Louis isn’t a nice guy,” he snapped. “He used to knock her around. Ever wonder why she didn’t show up much in public?”
Not really died on Steve’s tongue, because even if he had no interest in the royal family himself, he knew plenty of people did. Besides, this was Bobby’s mother, and Steve wasn’t insensitive. He didn’t want to hurt Bobby, even now. “No wonder she ran.”
Bobby nodded, staring down at his hands. “Exactly.” There was a long pause, and he looked down at his hands. “Mom took me to Europe, where her family was. It was kept a secret. Gregory helped smuggle her back to her family, who kept her mostly in the palace there. I grew up knowing who I was and knowing I didn’t want any part of that world.”
“Jesus,” Steve muttered. “You could have told me.”
“I could barely admit it to myself,” Bobby said, eyes wide and scared. “Steve, I didn’t want to be a royal, I never have. Not just that, but I know how you feel about them. Yeah, it’s not hard to figure out,” Bobby said at Steve’s expression, the first hint of a smile Steve had seen since he arrived. He sobered quickly. “It was selfish. I just wanted to be Bobby and not— Bobby, heir to the throne. It’s not…it’s not who I am.”
Steve could understand that. Instead of dwelling on it, he rubbed his hands together. “Why does the grand prince wanna speak to you now?”
Bobby leaned back against the bench, and he still wasn’t looking at Steve, but Steve could see the apprehension and distrust on his face. “He was hoping, I guess, that he’d be able to marry someone else, and though he couldn’t divorce, without any official news on what happened to Princess Maria, he hasn’t been able to marry again. Even if she had been officially declared dead—which I’m sure they’ll do eventually—nobody in the royal circles wants to marry him. In secret or in public, it’s obvious what he’s like.”
Though he didn’t generally keep up with what was happening within the royal family, Steve knew Grand Prince Louis wasn’t particularly liked, and not many people were satisfied with him.
“I’m a legitimate child,” Bobby explained, and he finally met Steve’s eyes. There was a wealth of sorrow, pain, and regret there that made Steve feel vaguely sick. “He wants me to come in, be the lost son, and take my place as heir.”
“But you don’t want that,” Steve pointed out.
“No, I don’t,” Bobby agreed. He rubbed at his arms.
“So don’t,” Steve said, mostly plea. “Whatever he wants from you, you don’t want to give it.”
Bobby nodded, but his eyes were far away. “I have family that…that want me. Or, so Gregory says. And can you imagine the world in Louis’ hands? I could…I could make a difference.”
Steve felt his stomach swoop and he swallowed down the nausea. “Bobby.”
“I’m sorry,” Bobby said quickly. “I don’t know what to do, Steve. I don’t want any of this, but then I think about my mom and I—I’m so confused.”
“I’m sorry too,” Steve said, and he couldn’t help but put an arm around Bobby’s shoulder. Bobby tensed for a beat, before sinking into the touch, and Steve pulled him close, confused, hurt, angry, but needing more than anything else to comfort Bobby. Bobby started to cry against Steve’s shoulder, and Steve closed his eyes, resting his face against Bobby’s hair.
Chapter Sixteen
The next few days passed slowly.
Far too slowly, and Steve felt as if he was balancing on a precipice, not sure if he was going to fall or stay safe. Bobby didn’t contact him much and Steve supposed he hadn’t given him much reason to. When they parted, Steve couldn’t prevent himself from staying angry Bobby claimed not to want a part of that life—and used it as a reason for lying to Steve—but he was making noises about going to the palace.
“He wants to go,” Steve said, arm thrown over his face. He probably looked dramatic, but he didn’t care. He could be afforded some latitude. “Told me he was at least gonna see what his dad had to say.”
“That’s a good thing, right?” Sam asked. He was the only other person in the apartment. Jamie was out with Helena, and Steve would hate him for that if he could, but he didn’t have the energy nor the will.
Steve shrugged. “I thought so. I know it might seem like I’m overreacting.”
“Unlike Jamie,” Sam said, interrupting, “I appreciate this is hard. I couldn’t even imagine my partner saying they were secretly a princess.”
Steve laughed, even though nothing was funny. He opened his mouth to say something, but the door opened before he could. He pulled his arm away, eyes on Jamie and Helena who had come through the door, and Bobby and Noah behind them. “Jamie.”
“We’re not your friends now that Bobby hurt you?” Noah said, and there was a betrayed look on his face that made Steve feel like shit. Behind Noah, Bobby dropped his eyes to the floor. Good.
“I’m sorry,” Steve said, shifting up from the couch to give other people somewhere to sit. Helena dropped down next to him, and though Steve wasn’t sure he wanted to hear what she had to say, she looked as if she had plenty. “What?”
Bobby was hovering awkwardly near the bathroom, Jamie and Noah talking to him in low tones, and Steve didn’t know what was happening here, but he didn’t like it.
“The two of you need to talk,” Helena said quietly. She held up a hand to forestall whatever Steve might have said, not that he could figure out what that might have been. “I know he hurt you, and I know you have shit to figure out, but he didn’t want to be this person. He wanted a life away from royalty.”
“Except he doesn’t,” Steve pointed out. “He wants to go back to the palace, back to his dad—who he claimed he didn’t know.”
Helena nodded, looking apologetic at least. “You have to appreciate how hard this is for him,” she said. “This is all that’s left of his family. Wouldn’t you want to know them?”
“Not if they’re as bad as he says they are,” Steve protested. He clenched his hands into fists, grit his teeth. “Do you understand what this is like for me?”
“No,” Helena said, and at least she was honest. “I don’t, but I do know Bobby. He’s been alone as long as I’ve known him, and I’ve never seen him as happy as he is when he’s with you.”
Steve already knew that. It wouldn’t be so hard if Bobby was only superficially into the relationship. “What am I supposed to do?”
Helena stared at him for a while. “I can’t tell you that, Steve. Only you know what to do.”
It wasn’t helpful, but Jamie and Sam had moved back into the living room, and Bobby was standing against the doorjamb of the kitchen, looking down at his hands. Steve didn’t have the time to figure it out. He pushed himself to his feet, and took a deep breath, rubbing his hands
on his jeans as he walked toward Bobby. “Hi.”
Bobby rubbed at his arm and nodded jerkily. “Hi.”
Awkward.
Steve touched Bobby’s elbow, who seemed willing enough to be guided into the privacy of Steve’s bedroom. Bobby had been in there so many times, and yet now he acted like he didn’t belong, staying near the door, and looking as if he expected to be thrown out at any moment.
“Please, sit down,” Steve said.
Bobby shook his head. “I don’t…it’s obvious you feel weird around me, and I don’t know how to make it right.”
“Why do you have to go?” Steve said, hating that his voice broke on the word. “I don’t want you to.”
Cursing under his breath, Bobby ignored his discomfort and sat next to Steve on the bed. “Steve. I don’t want to go without you.”
Steve froze, frowning. “That doesn’t make sense.”
Bobby shifted, sitting sideways on the bed and looking Steve in the eye. His expression was serious, and Steve hardly dared breathe for breaking the moment. “I want you to come with me. To Mercia.”
Digging his nails into his palm, Steve swallowed and couldn’t find his voice. He didn’t want that; he knew with a certainty he couldn’t explain. Royalty, everything about their world. Steve didn’t want it. “Bobby.”
Looking unsurprised, Bobby still winced, staring down at the bedsheets. “I get it.”
“No, because you haven’t let me explain,” Steve said quickly, appreciating the irony. “I love you, and you know I do.” Bobby hesitated as if he wasn’t sure, and Steve felt a surge of guilt. He hated Louis with a fierceness that was almost overwhelming for spoiling the best thing in his life. “Bobby, tell me you do.”
Bobby nodded, but it wasn’t reassuring. “I know it. It’s just hard.”
“Why?” Steve pressed. “I’ve told you so many times.”
“If you loved me,” Bobby said, face drawn in regret, “you’d find a way to make this work with me, Steve.”
“I love you,” Steve snapped. “You don’t get to tell me I don’t, and you don’t get to tell me I’m not trying hard enough to fix this!”
“Ever since you found out I was a royal,” Bobby said, shooting to his feet and glaring down at Steve, “you’ve barely been able to look at me. What part of that is loving me?”
“The part trying to get over the fact you lied to me!” Steve was just as loud and got up into Bobby’s face. Bobby held his ground, chin raised, and Steve wanted to step back, wanted to curl around Bobby and hold him close, wanted to tell him to get the fuck out of his apartment. He didn’t know what to do.
Bobby looked just as confused, just as exhausted, and his eyes were red and wet. Fuck, Steve couldn’t handle him crying. “I hate everything about this, but my mother, Steve. She wanted this for me, do you get that? She wanted me to able to make this choice on my own, and I am trying!”
Steve had nothing to say to that; if it had been his mother, he would have promised her the world. “Please. Bobby, I don’t know what else to ask you. I can’t be someone else for you.”
“I’m not asking you to,” Bobby said, looking incredulous. “What part of me asking you to come with me is asking you to change?”
“Because if you choose to stay,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice even, “you’ll want me to stay there with you permanently, and I’m not sure I want to do that.”
Bobby’s face fell, taking Steve’s confidence with it. The lead that had been steadily growing in his stomach felt as if it was going to pull Steve right through the floor. Hadn’t they promised each other forever not that long ago?
“Bobby—”
“Forget it,” Bobby snapped, turning on his heel and wrenching open Steve’s door. Steve followed, saying Bobby’s name again.
“Bobby,” Helena started.
“It was dumb,” Bobby snapped, gesturing at Steve over his shoulder. “Apparently he loves me, but only if I don’t ask him to become a part of my life.”
“That’s not what I said!” Steve said, feeling the situation spiraling away from him faster than he could figure it out.
Jamie groaned, rubbing at his face, and Noah and Sam exchanged a look Steve didn’t want to begin deciphering. Helena glared, but Steve couldn’t be sure if it was for him or for Bobby.
Bobby was furious, and Steve felt his own anger bubble to the surface. Bobby was acting as if he was at fault. He just wanted the truth, and if Bobby decided he wanted a better life for himself, that was fine. Not understanding why it was hard for Steve was the problem
“If you don’t wanna fight for this,” Steve said, “then fuck off.”
“Don’t worry,” Bobby said, though there was a hitch in his breath, and a flash of despair before his anger was back in place. “Pretty sure you won’t ever have to see me again.”
Steve opened his mouth, closed it again before he could think of something to say. Bobby was already storming to the door, Helena and Noah trailing after him, and the pit in the bottom of Steve’s stomach seemed to open completely, swallowing him whole.
Chapter Seventeen
“Are you ever going to leave this room?” Jamie asked, leaning against the doorjamb.
Steve shrugged. Hanging his laundry back in the closet was the most boring job, and he hated it, but anything that took his mind off Bobby was a bonus. “I leave the room.”
“Sure,” Jamie allowed. “For food, laundry, and drink. Never for fresh air.”
“I go to class,” Steve pointed out. His work had suffered, sure, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still going. Both Taylor and Heller had inquired about him, but when he hadn’t been forthcoming, neither of them pressed it.
Steve had made a mistake focusing his subject on Bobby. He could hardly bare to look at most of the photos and sketches he had done, and though his professors had both been keen about his chosen subject, they had been startled by his request to change, worried he didn’t have enough time to finish. Steve was worried too, but it was better than having to deal with Bobby memories.
Jamie was silent for a long time, and Steve was surprised. He had made his feelings more than clear over the past week, and even when Steve hadn’t wanted to talk about it, he had tried to get Steve to open up. Usually, his stubbornness was a pain in the ass, but it was even more so since Bobby had left.
Steve hadn’t bothered to ask if Helena and Noah were still around.
“I’m sorry,” Jamie said quietly, and it startled Steve so much he looked up. “I don’t think I’ve said that yet, have I?”
“No,” Steve admitted. “You’ve mostly yelled at me for my choices.”
Jamie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know. I just…Helena and I weren’t lying—you were happier with Bobby. So happy, and I hate that you don’t have that anymore.”
So did Steve. “I miss him.”
Coming into the room, perching on the end of Steve’s bed, Jamie waited for Steve to be done with the laundry. They lapsed into silence, and it was more comfortable than Steve expected. Finally, he turned, and joined Jamie on his bed.
“I hate this.”
“Yeah,” Jamie said. “I can see why. Don’t know what I’d do if it was Helena.”
Steve had forgotten that Jamie had been lied to as well. Sort of. And he had gotten over it. “Why weren’t you mad about the lying?”
“I was.” Jamie leaned back on the bed, resting his weight on his arms. “But we talked about it, and I realized where she was coming from, she realized where I was coming from and it was fine. Yours,” he added, giving Steve a wry smile, “is a little more complicated.”
“Tell me about it,” Steve sighed. He scrubbed at his face. “I’m so tired of feeling like this. I love him,” he added quietly.
Jamie shuffled closer, nudging his shoulder against Steve’s. “I know that, idiot. It wouldn’t hurt half as much if you didn’t. The question is, what are you gonna do about it?”
Steve didn’t know. He had been tr
ying to think of a way to fix the hurt in his chest, the gap in his life, but it wasn’t that easy. “I just wish I knew whether he was…whether it was going okay.”
“Have you tried contacting him?” Jamie asked.
The look Steve gave him had Jamie smiling wryly, but Steve shrugged anyway. “Would Helena know something?”
“Dunno,” Jamie said, frowning. “I didn’t actually think to ask her.”
That made Steve laugh, and something eased in his chest. He was so tired of being unhappy. Maybe nothing would fix whatever was wrong between Steve and Bobby, but Steve didn’t think he could have peace of mind until he knew for sure. “Maybe you could?”
“Nope,” Jamie said, dragging the word out. Startled, Steve frowned, but he could see the quirk of Jamie’s lips and realized he was being mocked. “I’m half-kidding. You should ask her yourself. I think she’s waiting for you to call her. They are still our friends.”
“I know, she told me,” Steve admitted. He did get a message from her, not long after Bobby left, and while she hadn’t said a whole lot, that had been her primary message. Steve hadn’t forgotten, but it was hard when she—and Noah—were so intrinsically linked to Bobby. “I should go see her.”
Jamie sighed, slapping Steve on the back. “Come on. We’ll both go.”
“You just wanna make out with your girlfriend,” Steve groused, but he didn’t object. It would be nice to have some company, and it would mean not feeling awkward with Helena and Noah, who would no doubt have some choice words for him.
Steve wasn’t wrong; when they arrived at Helena’s apartment, she opened the door, eyes gliding over Jamie and her lips quirked up into a smile. When she stared at Steve, her expression hardened.
“Finally decided to show your face then, huh?”
“Helena,” Steve started.
“Shut up,” Helena snapped. “Do you have any idea what you’ve sent him into?”
Steve frowned. “I didn’t send him anywhere, Helena, and you know it. He wanted to do this, it was his decision, and no matter what I decided, clearly he was still gonna do it, because he has!”