The Royal Scandal | Prince William |

Leave Us In Ruins

May 18, 2018

The bar is dark and thick with an invisible cloud of must, but William can see it the second his eyes adjust to the shadows and pockets of artificial light. It's loud, not as loud as some, but loud enough that one's thoughts can simply be lost in the chaos.

"Thanks for coming," Harry says, slapping William on the shoulder, and through the darkness his younger brother's full smile is a beacon. William doesn't comment on the absurdity that this may be the one place they can see eye to eye. That they are truly broken if only a drunken haze can make them brothers once more.

He doesn't comment, he embraces the truth and falls into the cups with his brother and friends. The amber liquid burns going down, but runs its allusive fingers pleasantly back up until his mind is buzzing. He is lost in Guy's laughter, in Harry's red blooming joy, in the music and sloppy dancers around them.

He goes up to the bar to order another round when he meets a familiar face clocking in for her shift.

"Your Royal Highness, a pleasure," Grace calls, coming over a stack of glasses held between her fingers. She throws a glance over his shoulder tallying his friends, and without asking starts mixing.

He sighs awkwardly glancing around, but everyone is much too absorbed in themselves to notice Harry and him. "Please, we've been over this. Just William."

"Alright William." She says this with a teasing smile, one people have given him his whole life like they're all in on something he doesn't know.

He grabs the first two drinks, Harry's vodka Red Bull and something utterly horrid looking for Guy. Her Litting tone stops him before he can turn though. "Tell me, are they so pissed they can't manage to walk on their own two legs."

He laughs, careful not to spill the nearly full glasses. "I'd expect them to fall right over actually."

He makes the trips but leaves the tall glass with his usual kamikaze cocktail for last. Grace is drinking something too, throwing her head back and lining up her empty shots. He sympathizes knowing uni can be like that, he's sure a masters program is worse.

Compared to his brother and friends, maybe even himself, she's handling her liquor better.

They talk for a while, the crowd around them growing rowdier, and eventually she pulls him to the corner where his brother and friends have congregated. They are dancing with strangers closing in around them, and William is just barely aware of Mark, Harry's RPO trying to push through the crowd.

Bodies press into bodies, and drinks slosh dangerously over the rims of glasses. There's a hand on his forearm, and then it's gone. His shoulder and it disappears. Everyone's so close they're sharing the same air.

Harry and he are existing together, laughing together, and it feels great.

"And do you think the Mrs is missing you?" Grace asks, pushing into his space once Harry's stepped away. He pulls back slightly, thrown at the mention of Jaclyn. He doesn't like the way Mrs rolls off her tongue, doesn't like the guilty stir it starts in his gut, or the thoughts that linger upon his wife.

Does she miss him? Does she hate him? Anymore he's not sure. Not that he blames her, he'd hate himself too if given the chance to meet face to face.

He shrugs casually unsure of what to say, but Grace smiles, and pushes closer.

There's a point where it gets too loud, the thumping making a home in his skull while Harry laughs and laughs behind him. People are everywhere, foreign skin brushing his, and suddenly the drunken headache descends on him.