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Kyyre had been following Johannes back toward the car, his nerves still tightly wound, thoughts buzzing with everything that was about to happen later that evening. He had barely registered the weight of Johannes’s hand in his, the feel of his fingers intertwining with his own, grounding him against the flurry of emotions in his chest. But when Johannes’s steps slowed, and he let go to step toward the fountain, Kyyre’s focus snapped back to the present. - He watched as Johannes leaned over the edge of the fountain, his face alight with unfiltered joy, his entire body seeming to relax for the first time since their conversation had turned toward dinner and parents and expectations. Kyyre’s chest tightened at the sight. For all his confidence, for all his charm and princely demeanor, Johannes had such an unguarded softness to him in moments like this. It was impossible not to be drawn in, not to feel the warmth radiating from him. - "I love ducks." - At first, Kyyre blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. Ducks? He hadn’t even noticed the ducks. His gaze flicked to the fountain, and there they were—small, round, waddling creatures paddling lazily through the water like they didn’t have a care in the world. - For a second, Kyyre just stood there, staring. And then, as though a switch had been flipped, his eyes lit up, and his whole face broke into a grin that matched Johannes’s. - “Oh my god,” he breathed, stepping closer to the fountain. “Ducks. I didn’t even see them!” - There was a breathless excitement in his voice, as though he had just discovered some long-hidden treasure. He leaned over the fountain beside Johannes, his hands braced against the cool stone as he watched the ducks with wide-eyed wonder. - “They’re so cute,” Kyyre gushed, his voice rising slightly in pitch. “Look at the way they paddle! And their feathers—they’re so shiny! Oh my god, that one has a speckled belly.” He pointed to one of the smaller ducks, his finger trembling slightly with excitement. “Do you see it? It’s like… it’s like a little painting, but it’s alive!” - He turned to Johannes, his face flushed with delight, his pale cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “How did I miss these? They’re right there.” - Kyyre’s gaze shifted back to the fountain, his smile so wide it made his cheeks ache. The ducks were nothing extraordinary—just ordinary creatures going about their ordinary lives—but in that moment, they felt like magic. And maybe that was the thing about being with Johannes. Even the most mundane things, the things Kyyre would normally overlook, suddenly seemed brighter, more alive, when Johannes was there to point them out. - “Do you think they’d let me touch them?” Kyyre asked, half-joking but entirely earnest in his tone. He reached a tentative hand toward the water, only to pull back at the last second, a nervous laugh escaping him. “No, wait, never mind. That’s dumb. They’d probably freak out, and I’d feel terrible. But still… they’re so cute.” - Kyyre glanced at Johannes again, his excitement softening into something gentler, something almost reverent. “You’re right. They are darling. And their little beaks…” He trailed off, his lips curving into a soft smile. “How did I not notice this before?” - His gaze lingered on Johannes for a moment longer than necessary, his heart swelling with a warmth that was becoming increasingly familiar. The ducks were adorable, sure, but it wasn’t just the ducks that made this moment special. It was Johannes. It was the way he lit up at the simplest things, the way his joy was so contagious it made Kyyre feel like he could float. - Kyyre straightened slightly, his eyes still fixed on Johannes as he said, almost shyly, “I think I love ducks now. Because of you.” |
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Darkseeker
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Johannes's grin softened into something more playful as he gently tugged Kyyre closer by the sleeve of his shirt. “Ducks will make you think of me now,” he said, his voice warm with delight at the thought. The idea of being tied to such a simple, happy memory—a moment of peace in the chaos—lit him up from the inside. He rested his chin lightly on Kyyre’s shoulder, inhaling the crisp, sweet air as they watched the plump little ducks glide across the fountain’s surface. The ducks’ silly, endearing movements enchanted him. He dipped his fingers into the water, watching as the ripples scattered like fleeting laughter. “It’s too bad they’re not more tame,” he agreed wistfully. “I’d love to hold one. Can you imagine? It’d probably wiggle like crazy. But look at their feet! Those flat little paddles! Ducks are so goofy.” Johannes let out a soft laugh, the tension in his chest loosening as he leaned against Kyyre, just enough to feel his solid warmth beside him. Pointing to a pair of ducks paddling closely together, he mused, “When I was little I used to make up stories about them. Those two, over there do you see? The brown ones. I bet they’re French ducks. Very sophisticated. Georges and Cécile. What do you think—are they siblings? Or maybe they’re in love.” He made a theatrically wistful face, his eyes still following the ducks as they floated by. “It must be fun to be a duck. Flying, swimming, running away whenever you want…no expectations, no plans.” He sighed, the weight of his own responsibilities creeping back in for a moment before he shook it off. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, turning his attention back to Kyyre. “You’ve just listened to me ramble about birds for so long.” Despite his words, the happiness from sharing his enthusiasm of sharing his affection for the birds with Kyyre was still written plainly across his face. He reached for Kyyre’s hand again, lacing their fingers together with an easy contented movement. His steps had a lightness to them as they started back toward the car, though Johannes deliberately chose the scenic route, by no means anxious to get back to the drudgery of the class. The sun painted warm patterns over his features, and he carried the moment’s peace with him, even as he swung the bag onto his shoulder. “I’m excited to meet your parents,” he said, not sure whether the insistence in his tone was for him or Kyyre, breaking the comfortable silence. “Scared, yeah, but excited too. I hope they like me.” His voice wavered slightly as he added, “Do you want me to just be a friend this time?” The question lingered, heavy with his nerves, though he tried to mask it with a half-hearted smile. “I don’t want to ruin the first time I meet them. If they don’t know, or if they’re not…ready to accept it yet…” His fingers brushed lightly against the edge of his coat, a nervous gesture, but he stopped himself from going near his cuticles. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t do that anymore, not in front of him. “They will, though,” he said, his voice firming as he glanced at Kyyre. “They’ll come around. They have an amazing son, after all.” He opened the car door.
"After you, little duckling," He teased, and then tipped his head. "You speak other languages, yes? One of your friends said so. Maybe I should find a nickname for you in a different language, so no one will ever know." |
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Kyyre’s lips twitched at the teasing nickname, a warmth spreading across his chest as the tension of the day momentarily eased. “Little duckling, huh?” he repeated, his voice soft with laughter. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I’m waddly? Or just cute and clueless?” - He stepped into the car, settling into the seat with a faint grin still tugging at his lips, though his mind was already running in circles around what Johannes had just asked. Do you want me to just be a friend this time? The question lingered, quiet but heavy, carrying far more weight than Johannes probably intended. Kyyre could feel it pressing on him now, the enormity of what the night would mean—for both of them. - He turned to look at Johannes, his golden eyes catching the light in a way that made Kyyre’s heart ache a little. There was so much hope and nervousness wrapped up in Johannes’s expression, a vulnerability that made him look so achingly human despite everything else he was. And Kyyre knew, in that moment, that there was no way he could pretend. Not about this. Not about them. - “No,” Kyyre said finally, his voice quiet but steady. “I don’t want you to be just a friend. Not now. Not ever.” - He felt his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his tie, a nervous habit he couldn’t quite shake as the words spilled out of him, honest and raw. “If they’re not ready to accept it yet…that’s on them. But I want them to know you, Johannes. The real you. Not some sanitized version of you that fits neatly into whatever they think my life is supposed to look like. I want them to see what I see—the person who…” He paused, his throat tightening slightly as he tried to put the overwhelming swirl of emotions into words. “The person who makes me feel like I can do anything. Like I can be more than I thought I could be.” - Kyyre let out a small, nervous laugh, his eyes flickering away for a moment before finding their way back to Johannes. “You’re not just some…passing thing in my life. You mean too much to me to pretend otherwise. And maybe they’ll be upset, or scared, or whatever it is parents feel when they realize their son is dating someone—a man, no less—who comes with a full security team and royal titles, but…” He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m not scared of them. I’m scared of losing you. That’s the only thing I’m scared of.” - That was partially a lie. He was terrified of losing Johannes, sure. But the idea of his mother hating him for his sexuality? What if she went as far as to throw him out? But, no, he'd do this, for his boyfriend. He'd do it all. - His hand reached out almost instinctively, brushing lightly against Johannes’s, grounding himself in the warmth of his touch. “So no,” he said again, firmer this time. “You’re not just anything, Hasse. Not to me.” - For a moment, there was silence between them, the weight of his words hanging in the air. But then Kyyre’s lips quirked into a soft, playful smile, the tension easing as he added, “And if you want to come up with some ridiculous nickname for me in another language, go ahead. I'm fluent in Emglish, Swedish, and Norse, but I'm studying French and I know a bit of German. But just so you know, if it’s too ridiculous, I will absolutely get you back for it. You won’t see it coming, but it’ll happen." - The teasing words were an attempt to lighten the mood, to push back against the vulnerability that had settled over them both. But even as he joked, Kyyre couldn’t shake the feeling of how much this moment, what would happen this night, truly meant. - “Also,” he added, leaning slightly toward Johannes as if to let him in on a secret, “if I’m the little duckling, that makes you the mother duck. You’re the one leading me around all the time, right? So maybe I should be the one giving you a nickname. Something…regal. ‘Queen Duck,’ maybe?” - The laughter that followed was soft but genuine, a momentary reprieve from the nerves simmering just beneath the surface. |
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Darkseeker
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Johannes grinned, all teeth and sunshine, his eyes dancing with delight. Making Kyyre laugh—*truly* laugh—felt like a victory, no matter the reason. He didn’t think there could be a more pleasant sound than the soft, fleeting laughter of the boy beside him. “Ducks are not just waddley and clueless,” he mock-argued, feigning a deeply wounded expression. “They’re smart. They migrate. I think. Actually, I don’t know that much about them.” He paused, as if considering. “I *do* know they have good vision, though. Maybe that’s the duck inside you.” But the humor faded as quickly as it had come when Kyyre latched onto his earlier words about being just a friend, and the intensity of the boy’s response nearly stole Johannes’s breath away. Kyyre *wanted* him. Not just in the quiet, uncertain way of stolen glances or careful touches, but openly. Unabashedly. Johannes hadn’t doubted it—not really—but hearing it spoken aloud sent something warm curling in his chest, a mix of relief, elation, and the quiet thrill of certainty. His shoulders relaxed even as his spine straightened, his entire posture unconsciously mirroring his brightened mood. It was such a simple thing—*wanting*—but there was so much wrapped up in it. Johannes wanting Kyyre. Kyyre wanting him back. The unspoken desire to never have to hide that, now or ever. Suddenly, *he* was the shy one. For once, words didn’t come as easily, and he worried he might ruin the moment with the wrong thing. But then Kyyre started speaking again, and Johannes seized onto the conversation, his eager attention unwavering. His mouth fell open slightly, eyes widening. “You speak *five* languages?” he repeated, astonished. “Damn, that’s amazing. You’re *so* smart to be able to understand all of them. I can only speak English, Swedish, and Norwegian. And those are practically the same to me. A lot of the words are close.” He muttered the last part almost sheepishly. “My mother wants me to learn another language,” he admitted, glancing at Kyyre from beneath his lashes. “Maybe you could teach me.” The thought sent a small thrill through him—time spent sitting close together, Kyyre carefully enunciating foreign words, Johannes clinging to every syllable. Watching the delicate way Kyyre’s lips shaped each sound, soaking in the melody of a language he didn’t know yet. *Yet.* He barely suppressed a shiver of excitement at the image. But before he could get lost in it, Kyyre’s next statement sent him reeling in an entirely different way. Johannes gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “I think you could be executed for treason if you called me that in front of my mother,” he said, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “Are ducks going to be *our thing* now?” he mused, as if testing the idea, and then nodded decisively. “I like that. At our wedding, instead of releasing doves, we’ll throw ducks into the gathered crowd. The press will never see it coming.” After a moment, he turned his gaze toward the window, watching the landscape shift outside. His expression softened, more thoughtful now. “I’ve always wanted a tattoo,” he murmured. “Maybe someday I’ll get a duck tattoo. Then I’ll never forget today.” A brief silence stretched between them before Johannes tilted his head slightly, his voice gentler now. “Do you want us to take you back to school? Or would you rather Maciej just drive you home?” Then he blinked. “Wait—your stuff’s probably still at school. Never mind. Sorry.” He huffed at himself, shaking his head, but his fingers remained loosely curled around Kyyre’s, unwilling to let go just yet, and wrinkled his nose, still embarrassed, and tugged Kyyre closer, letting the seatbelt cut into his chest.
"I'm going to kiss you now. Again. I never want to stop." |
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Winter Month: 3 
Day 
Blizzard
