They finished their meal, the air still buzzing faintly with unspoken tension and glances that lingered a little too long.
Adrian reached into his robe and pulled out a small pouch of medicine. The faint smell of herbs filled the space.
William's gaze immediately sharpened. "That is the medicine?" His tone wasn't teasing this time.
"Yes." Adrian replied calmly. "Idowu got it for me when my condition began. I don't know what I would have done if he had not helped me. The first few weeks were… rough. But this helps me keep it under control."
"Why don't you see a physician?" William's voice was low, but there was a thin line of irritation in it.
Adrian waved it off. "No, it's not serious enough to visit one. The medicine Idowu found works fine."
"Not serious?" William's brows furrowed, his voice rising slightly. "You fainted!"
Adrian blinked, startled by the sudden intensity.
William caught himself and sighed, his voice softening. "Let me see it." he said gently, reaching out his hand.
Adrian hesitated, then placed the small pouch in his palm. William turned it over, studying it carefully. Something about the powder inside looked familiar— too familiar. A faint uneasiness crept up his spine. He could not remember where he had seen it before, but it left a strange weight in his chest.
Adrian noticed the look on his face. "Why? Is something wrong?"
William shook his head slowly, setting the pouch back down. "No. It is nothing." Probably just overthinking, he told himself. As long as the medicine was helping, it was fine.
Adrian took one pill, swallowed it with water, and closed his eyes briefly. His lashes trembled slightly as he took a slow breath. "I am going to rest for a bit," he murmured.
He began to stand, but William reached out instinctively and tugged him gently back into his seat. "Haven't you rested enough? You have been sleeping all day."
Adrian stared at the hand holding his sleeve and frowned. "What is it to you?" He shook free and stood, his tone colder than before.
William followed him immediately, his long strides closing the distance in seconds. "Are you cold?" he asked playfully. "I could come help you keep the bed warm."
Adrian stopped at his door, turning sharply. "No thanks to you, Brother William, for your unasked help."
He reached to close the door, but before it shut, two strong arms slipped around his waist.
William's breath brushed the side of his neck as he whispered, his voice low and teasing, "Are you sure?"
Adrian froze— utterly caught off guard. His heartbeat thudded in his chest, his mind scrambling for words. His throat went dry. "Brother William," he managed, his tone trembling slightly though his gaze stayed firm. "What is this? I don't think we are in that kind of relationship— or even close enough for you to touch me like this."
For a moment, neither moved. The space between them felt heavy, thick with something neither could name.
Just then, footsteps echoed down the corridor. Idowu had returned with the boy and the dog. He stopped halfway when his eyes caught the sight in front of him— his master, trapped between William's arms. His mouth fell open in shock before a wide grin spread across his face. Quickly, he spun the boy around and whispered, "Let us go somewhere else, shall we?" and quietly slipped away.
Back at the doorway, William gave a faint sigh, pressing one hand dramatically over his chest. "Why would you say something like that? You hurt me."
Adrian's expression hardened. "I do not care." He shoved William back firmly and slammed the door shut in his face.
Silence.
For a long moment, William simply stood there, staring at the closed door. Then, slowly, a smile curved his lips. No embarrassment, no regret— just quiet amusement.
He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. "He really is something else."
The rumors about him were not lies. People called him the "male beauty- obsessed prince." A man with too many admirers, too many faces around him, but no one who truly mattered. They said he collected beautiful men like jewels, admired them, laughed with them, and tossed them away. Maybe some of that was true.
But none of those men had ever made his heart race. None had made him feel this strange mix of frustration and longing.
He walked back to the table and poured himself another cup of wine. The inn was quiet except for the faint hum of voices downstairs.
He lifted the cup to his lips and muttered softly, "This man… he is different. He is too different."
His eyes drifted back to the closed door at the end of the hallway.
"I might be a fool," he whispered with a faint, wistful smile, "if I didn't break my rules."
And he drank.
To be continued