The hum of the bakery greeted Rody as it always did-soft, warm, and comforting. But tonight, there was an undercurrent of tension thick enough to cut through the sweetness of sugar and cinnamon that lingered in the air. The usually bustling little shop was empty, save for Rody and Vincent, and the silence between them spoke volumes that neither of them dared to.
Rody had been slipping out of the palace almost every evening to visit this tiny corner of the kingdom, evading his royal duties just to spend a few hours here. At first, he told himself it was the bread-Vincent’s renowned, impeccable craftsmanship, the perfect excuse for any royal craving. But after months of these visits, Rody knew it had never been about the bread.
It was about Vincent.
The baker stood at the counter, his back turned, kneading dough with such force that Rody could see the tension in his shoulders. Vincent worked silently, a far cry from the usual light banter Rody enjoyed coaxing out of him. The prince leaned against the counter, his elbows resting on the worn wood as he watched Vincent’s hands move rhythmically, pressing and folding the dough.
“You’re quiet tonight,” Rody finally said, trying to keep his voice light, though he could feel the weight in the air between them.
Vincent didn’t look up, his hands continuing their methodical work. “There’s nothing to say.”
Rody felt the knot in his stomach tighten. Vincent had been distant for days now, ever since the news of his engagement had broken. It had been an arranged affair, political, nothing more-his betrothal to Princess Manon of a neighboring kingdom was meant to strengthen alliances, ensure stability. It wasn’t love. But Vincent was acting as if it was the end of something they hadn’t even begun.
“Come on,” Rody said, attempting a half-hearted smile. “You know you can talk to me, Vincent. Whatever it is, just say it.”
Vincent’s hands stilled for the briefest of moments before continuing, the tension in his movements unmistakable. “It doesn’t matter.”
Rody frowned, pushing away from the counter. “Of course, it matters. You matter to me.”
There was a crack in the armor then, subtle but there, as Vincent’s shoulders stiffened. Rody stepped around the counter, moving closer, unable to stay in the distance Vincent always tried to maintain between them. He reached out, hesitant, his hand hovering near Vincent’s arm.
“Don’t do that,” Vincent said suddenly, his voice low, barely a whisper.
“Do what?” Rody asked, his hand dropping to his side, though he didn’t move away. His heart was pounding now, his chest tightening with something he wasn’t quite ready to name.
“Act like…” Vincent swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he turned his gaze to the dough. “Like there’s something here that can last.”
Rody blinked, his breath catching in his throat. Vincent’s words were like a blow, but there was a tremor beneath them-a vulnerability Rody hadn’t seen before. “Why can’t it?”
Vincent finally looked at him, dark eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and something deeper, something raw. “Because you’re the crown prince, Rody. You’re engaged to a princess. You’re destined to marry and rule and… and I’m just a baker.”
Rody’s throat tightened, his chest aching. “You think that matters to me?”
“It should,” Vincent snapped, his voice sharp, but the anger in it was brittle, like glass on the verge of shattering. “It matters to everyone else. It matters to your father, your kingdom. You’re bound to her now, Rody, whether you like it or not.”
Rody flinched at the harsh truth in Vincent’s words, but something inside him rebelled, twisted with defiance. “I didn’t choose this,” he said, his voice shaking with anger he hadn’t realized was building inside him. “I didn’t choose her.”
“You didn’t have to,” Vincent said quietly, the fight draining from his voice, leaving only exhaustion behind. “Your fate was decided for you the moment you were born. You and I… whatever this is, it was doomed from the start.”
Rody took a step closer, his hand reaching out to grip Vincent’s wrist, pulling the baker’s hands away from the dough. Vincent’s skin was cool under his touch, but there was a heat beneath it, something that made Rody’s pulse quicken. He could feel the tension in Vincent’s body, the way the man’s breathing hitched as Rody moved closer, until they were only inches apart.
“I don’t care about fate,” Rody said, his voice low, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he was sure Vincent could hear it. “I care about you.”
Vincent closed his eyes, his jaw tightening as if the words pained him. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” Rody demanded, his grip tightening on Vincent’s wrist. “You think I don’t know how you feel? You think I haven’t seen it, haven’t felt it every time I’m here?”
Vincent’s eyes snapped open, and for a moment, the mask he always wore fell away completely. The raw, desperate longing in his gaze was unmistakable, and it hit Rody like a punch to the gut. But there was pain there too-deep, unrelenting pain.
“Because it doesn’t matter,” Vincent said, his voice breaking. “It can’t matter. You belong to her now, Rody. There’s no place for me in your life. Not anymore.”
Rody’s chest tightened, the weight of the truth suffocating him. He knew Vincent was right, but the thought of losing him-of walking away from this, from them-was unbearable.
“I don’t want her,” Rody said, his voice hoarse. “I want-“
“Stop,” Vincent whispered, cutting him off. “Don’t say it. Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Rody’s breath hitched, his heart clenching as he watched Vincent’s resolve crumble before his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself then. He surged forward, closing the distance between them entirely, his lips crashing against Vincent’s in a desperate, reckless kiss.
Vincent froze at first, his body going rigid under Rody’s touch, but then, slowly, he melted into it, his hands gripping Rody’s shoulders as if he was drowning and Rody was his only lifeline. The kiss was frantic, messy, full of all the things they had never said, all the things they had buried beneath layers of duty and denial.
Rody’s fingers tangled in Vincent’s hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer. The taste of him-faintly bitter, like coffee and something darker, more intoxicating-filled Rody’s senses, and for a moment, he let himself forget everything else. He let himself forget the kingdom, the throne, the engagement.
But reality crashed back in when Vincent pulled away, his breath ragged, his hands trembling as they pushed against Rody’s chest.
“We can’t,” Vincent rasped, his voice shaking with emotion. “We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” Rody demanded, his voice breaking. “Why can’t we?”
Vincent’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as he stepped back, the distance between them like a chasm. “Because you have a duty to your kingdom, Rody. You have a duty to her.”
Rody shook his head, his heart aching with the weight of it all. “I don’t want this life, Vincent. I never wanted it.”
“It’s not about what you want,” Vincent whispered, his voice pained. “It’s about what you have to do.”
Rody stared at him, the weight of those words pressing down on him like a crushing force. He wanted to fight it, wanted to tell Vincent that they could find a way, that they could make it work. But deep down, he knew Vincent was right.
There was no escaping this.
“Vincent…” Rody’s voice was barely a whisper, his chest tight with unshed tears.
Vincent stepped forward then, his hand reaching out to cup Rody’s cheek, his thumb brushing gently over the skin. “I love you,” Vincent said, his voice breaking on the words. “But we both know that’s not enough.”
Rody closed his eyes, leaning into Vincent’s touch, memorizing the feel of it, knowing it would be the last time.
When he opened his eyes again, Vincent was already turning away, his hands back on the dough, as if nothing had happened.
And Rody knew, as he walked out of the bakery and into the cold night air, that he had lost the one thing that had ever truly mattered to him.
And it was all because of a crown.
The cold night air bit at Rody’s skin as he stumbled out of the bakery, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft click that seemed so final, like the sealing of a tomb. He stood there for a moment, dazed, his chest heaving with ragged breaths as if the wind had been knocked out of him. The flickering light from the bakery’s window spilled onto the cobblestone street, warm and inviting, but it may as well have been a distant star-impossibly far away, out of reach.
His mind raced, replaying Vincent’s words, the pain in his eyes. *”It’s not about what you want… It’s about what you have to do.”* The words echoed in his skull like a cruel mantra. Rody clenched his fists, his knuckles white as he struggled to breathe past the tightness in his chest.
None of it felt real. The engagement, the kingdom’s expectations, his future. It was all suffocating, like an iron cage closing in around him, trapping him in a life he had no desire for. All he wanted-all he had *ever* wanted-was standing behind that counter, inside the bakery, kneading dough with hands that had touched him with such tenderness just moments ago.
Rody felt something snap inside him. A decision formed in the depths of his heart, sharp and clear as the winter air. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t go through with the marriage, the life everyone expected him to live. Not when it meant losing Vincent.
He turned abruptly, heading back towards the bakery, but as his hand reached for the door, he hesitated. His mind screamed at him, reminding him of his obligations, his crown, his family, but none of it mattered. Not anymore. He had been raised to be a king, taught to sacrifice everything for duty, but what was the point of any of it if he had to live without the one person who made his world bearable?
His hand trembled as it hovered over the door handle. *Vincent deserves better than this. He deserves better than me,* Rody thought, the bitter realization sinking into his bones. He wanted to be selfish, wanted to take Vincent away from this life, whisk him off to some corner of the world where no one knew them, where they could just be *them*.
But what if Vincent didn’t want that? What if Vincent was already resigned to a life of solitude, convinced that he and Rody were doomed from the start?
Before he could decide, the door creaked open, and Vincent stood there, his expression unreadable. The light from the bakery framed him in a soft glow, but the exhaustion in his eyes dulled it. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at Rody with a mixture of sorrow and something Rody couldn’t quite place-maybe it was hope, or maybe it was fear.
“Why are you still here?” Vincent finally asked, his voice hoarse, as if the kiss had left him just as breathless as it had left Rody.
Rody opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the words that could make Vincent understand what he felt, what he wanted. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a painful reminder that every second he stood here, he risked losing Vincent forever.
“I… I can’t do it,” Rody choked out. “I can’t marry her. I don’t love her. I don’t *want* her.”
Vincent’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he took a step back, as if retreating into the safety of his shop, away from Rody’s words. “You don’t have a choice, Rody.”
“But I do,” Rody countered, his voice rising, desperate now. “I have a choice, and I’m making it. I’m choosing you.”
Vincent shook his head, the movement sharp, almost violent. “Don’t say that. Don’t… don’t make this harder.”
Rody stepped into the bakery, the warmth of the hearth wrapping around him, but it did nothing to ease the cold dread in his heart. “I don’t care about the crown. I don’t care about the kingdom or the politics or any of it, Vincent. All I care about is you.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Vincent murmured, though his voice wavered, like he wanted to believe Rody but couldn’t let himself. “You think you can just walk away from your life? From everything you’ve ever known?”
“Yes.” Rody’s answer came without hesitation, as solid as the ground beneath him. “I don’t care if I lose everything-if I lose the crown, the palace, the title. None of that means anything without you.”
Vincent stared at him, his chest rising and falling with deep, unsteady breaths. For a moment, the world seemed to still around them, the warmth of the bakery and the scent of fresh bread a stark contrast to the storm raging between them.
“I love you, Vincent,” Rody whispered, the words hanging in the air between them, fragile and dangerous. “I’ve loved you for longer than I can remember. And I’m not going to let them take you from me.”
Vincent’s expression crumpled, the walls he had built around himself breaking, piece by piece. “You don’t understand what you’re giving up. You’ll lose everything. They’ll never let you walk away like this.”
“Let them try,” Rody said fiercely, stepping closer until there was barely an inch between them. “I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t care what they take from me. As long as I have you.”
Vincent’s breath hitched, and for a moment, Rody saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes, the fear of wanting something that felt so impossibly out of reach. But then Vincent’s hands were on him, pulling him close, crushing him into another kiss that was as much an act of surrender as it was defiance.
The kiss was rougher this time, more desperate, like they were both trying to drown out the reality of their situation, trying to lose themselves in the one thing that felt real-each other. Vincent’s hands tangled in Rody’s hair, pulling him impossibly close, and Rody responded in kind, his hands gripping Vincent’s waist, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if he could anchor himself there forever.
When they finally broke apart, gasping for air, Vincent rested his forehead against Rody’s, his eyes closed as he whispered, “They’ll hunt you down, you know. You’ll be an outcast. A fugitive.”
“I don’t care,” Rody said, his voice steady. “Let them come. As long as I have you, none of it matters.”
Vincent’s lips twitched into a sad, broken smile, his hands still holding onto Rody as if he couldn’t bear to let go. “You’re a fool, Rody.”
“I know,” Rody said softly, brushing his thumb over Vincent’s cheek. “But I’d rather be a fool with you than a king without you.”
Vincent’s eyes fluttered open, and for the first time, Rody saw hope there, fragile and tentative, but real. The bakery around them faded into the background, the world outside the door nothing but a distant, irrelevant concern.
In this moment, all that mattered was Vincent. And for the first time in his life, Rody felt free.
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