marlowemuses | ❥ sometimes it's meant to be

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❥ sometimes it's meant to be

Charterhouse was one of the most elite, exclusive schools in England.

It housed only boys. Boys of all ages, from ones first learning to button their pants on their own to the ones that couldn't seem to keep their pants on when in interesting company. With a campus that covered more than 27,000 acres, the schools had plenty of room to be spread across. Rich, green grass and old fashioned cobblestone streets—it was the pride of the academic world. Rich in history and pedigree, only the cream of the crop could even glance at an application, much less apply and attend. It was a school for future politicians, royalty, and celebrities. The men bred from Charterhouse were said to be the most cultivated in the world.

And, naturally, the richest. Only those from a well-to-do family could attend Charterhouse. Which was why one Richard Campbell Gansey the Third was one among the golden—like his father before him, and his father before him. The Ganseys were internationally known. Mrs. Gansey: a popular and well-known politician in the United States of America. Mr. Gansey (the Second): an ambitious and clever member parliament. Helen Gansey: fashion entrepreneur and lawyer, likely to end up going into politics once she tired of running the runway.

Richard Gansey the Third: one could only wonder what the future POTUS would do. On the campus of Charterhouse he was a golden boy. Popular—captain of the crew team yet also quite an intellectual, spending a great deal of time involved in the expansion of the library and archiving old, important texts. He was the man that everyone liked and talked to. The laughs of Ganseyboy were oft heard throughout the marble halls of the College campus. Handsome—he was more American than most of his peers, having a presidential and charming look about him, with a perfectly golden sun-kissed tan. Thick brown hair swept back neatly almost always, a square build, gentle olive eyes, and a straight nose. The sort of man that entranced those who spoke to him; that wasn't even taking the velvety, almost magical quality of his voice into account.

What the members of his crew team could never figure out was why Richard Campbell Gansey "Ganseyboy" the Third was always single. Never spoke about his sexual conquests, never brought a girl along to parties (when he attended, reluctantly), never even so much as mentioned being interested in anyone. It boggled their minds. The man spent his time with his nose in dusty old books and wandering around old buildings so often that they had grown concerned; the guy should get laid. As friends, as bros, as fellow eventual members of congress of what-have-you, it was their duty to see their beloved Ganseyboy paired off. Or, at least, getting some kind of action in his youth.

Which was why there was a plan. A plan, and a bet that eventually formed because of that plan. A bet in which a lot of money was placed. For, the subject of their little game (along with good old Ganseyboy) was the iciest, coldest, most shut off of all the students. What was the point if there was no challenge? No doubt, among the boys involved in the bet, there were a few that had been spurned by the ice prince, too. Revenge was a sweet thing. Two birds with one stone: they got Ganseyboy laid and they burned the ice prince that had burned them. Or three—someone was bound to make a tidy profit.

When one of the boys approached the ice prince's brother about setting him up with the charming golden boy on campus, the man had launched at the opportunity—for the happiness of his brother, no doubt, and he was not told about the bet.

That was how it would begin. It was a Wednesday, around 4 in the afternoon, when one of the boys dragged Gansey toward the library. The rest of the boys had made sure it was empty. The one dragging him—Charles Defonte the Second—had begged Gansey for some tutoring in history. It was agreed with Laurent's brother that he would also manage to bring Laurent to the library somehow—and the two of them would be left there together to formally acquaint.

There was no tutoring. Charles shoved Gansey into the library in front of him and then shut the door behind him and locked it. "Oh no," the boy faked a gasp, "the door has gone and locked itself, Ganseyboy! A ghost, it's gotta be. I'll go get the janitor. Be back as soon as I have lunch and then find him!" Leaving a very confused Gansey staring at the door and trying to push it open, to no avail. Locked.

"Do you really think it's a ghost?" he said to no one, because Charles had run off to tell the boys that he'd done his part.

There was another door on the other side of the library that was left for the same to happen to Laurent. Unbeknownst to Gansey, who took a seat at one of the tables and glanced around, quickly. A curious time for there to be no one else in the library.

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Gansey was surprised when Laurent closed the gap between them like that—his lips were cold from ice cream and sweet from the taste of chocolate. Brief, just long enough for Gansey to close his eyes with a slight crease in his brow, and then it's over far too quickly.

As Laurent belted himself in, Gansey licked his lips, as though contemplating something. "I think," he said, slowly, "I may have to beg one more of those off of you." With his free hand he touched Laurent's chin to gently guide it back to face him as he leaned over, pressing his lips against the other boy's. A little bit longer than the last though just as chaste, soft and adoring, warm, with the taste of ice cream.

Satisfied, Gansey slid back into his seat to buckle in and pull the Pig into reverse and then drive, biting happily into his Klondike bar now that he'd gotten that urge settled. "So, where are these ruins?" he asked, thoroughly ready to get some exploring done. "We can get as close as possible in the Pig and walk the rest of the way if they're far in the woods."

Laurent wanted to melt into the kiss, to tangle himself up in Gansey's arms and stay there forever. Blushing happily, he licked his lower lip, tasting Gansey on his mouth.

"I have no idea. I could probably find it on a map, but I don't know how to give you driving directions. I've never been off campus unless it was with either Auguste or a Veretian guard and driver. I walked there from school."

He felt warm and slightly dizzy with pleasure. Gansey had kissed him. Gansey wanted to be his boyfriend.

And Gansey would very much like to kiss him again. Only, making out would probably distract them from getting to the ruins, and they should at least make an attempt to get to their destination first.

"All right. We'll head back to campus and then figure it out from there. It's not a bad morning for a walk." They could hold hands as they walked. That would be nice. And there was very little chance of running into anyone else, so early in the morning.

Turning the wheel, he headed back along the road now that they'd gotten everything they needed from town.

"When did you find them?"

"A few weeks back, on a weekend. I wanted to escape from everyone at school and Auguste was being irritating--he thinks I need to be more social--so I packed my lunch and headed out into the woods for the day. I didn't get back until well after dark, and Auguste was livid, because he'd been worried. We won't be gone so long, now that I know where we're going."

Laurent finished off his ice cream, licking the last remnants from the stick and then tucking it back into the wrapper, setting it tidily in the well between the seats to be dealt with later. "We should get a map of the area, if we want to keep exploring. I know there are ruins of an old castle near here, and a monastery. I've heard there's a circle of standing stones--or the remains of one--about twenty miles to the southwest."

Gansey couldn't quite blame Auguste for being livid. If Laurent disappeared without warning for a whole day, he would be beside himself, sick with worry until he came back. Which was a bit startling to realize—even if he was a worrier, he normally didn't tangle himself up in his friends' business like that. But, reminding himself, Laurent was no longer just a friend. Any boyfriend—lover—would worry.

Klondike bar stuffed in his mouth, Gansey licked it thoughtfully. A map sounded like a good idea. No doubt they would want to explore more. Breaking off a piece of ice cream, he held the bar out to Laurent, offering him a bite since he'd finished his.

"Good idea. I'm sure we'll want to keep looking, right? I'd have looked into it sooner if I knew there were interesting things to see. I guess I spent so much time thinking about ruins out in the world, I never considered what might be under my own nose. Charterhouse doesn't fall along a leyline. I wonder what the standing stones were for? Very interesting. I think I'd want to see the castle ruins first, though."

Laurent shrugged. "There are standing stones all over England, especially in the south. Normandy, too. Way more than people think. And most of them are--well, a normal person could stumble into a ring of stones and not even realize it was anything other than some boulders on a hill, if they weren't looking. Most rings aren't, well, Stonehenge." It wasn't a topic of especial interest for him, but Laurent loved all history and ruins, and the standing stones intrigued him. He wanted to know about the culture that had built them.

"We should have stopped in town to get a map." Laurent grinned, accepting the bite and licking his lips. As soon as they stopped, he climbed out, coming around to help Gansey with their things. "I can fetch my backpack, if it won't all fit in yours."

Gansey finished the bar after Laurent took a bite, licking his fingers clean of melted chocolate. "You're right. I do have maps in my room... not that it helps us now." Maybe he would have planned better if he weren't so utterly distracted by his new boyfriend. Really, it was difficult to think about proper planning when he could hardly keep himself from thinking about strolling through the forest while holding hands.

Following suit, Gansey hopped out of the Pig and gathered their stuff. "It should be okay," he figured, stuffing most of what they bought into his bookbag, along with his books. They didn't need to bring the poptarts. "It's got a good amount of room."

Slinging the bag over his shoulder once it was stuffed, he closed the door and locked the Pig. Sliding his hand with Laurent's once more, he offered a lopsided smile, "Lead the way, then? We'll just have to map another day." There would be plenty of time, or so he hoped.

Laurent gave his hand a squeeze. He earnestly wanted to steal another kiss, maybe a deeper kiss, but they were standing in the parking lot, and he couldn't yet cope with the thought that someone might see. Not because he didn't want to be seen with Gansey, because he did, but because he didn't want to draw attention and heckling from the ther students.

Glancing back at the school, he walked a little faster, tugging Gansey along. He didn't fear getting caught, since Charterhouse was fairly lax about attending class as long as students kept their grades to a strict standard, but he feared that his life before Gansey would intrude upon him, stealing away these beautiful moments.

Gansey followed as Laurent led on, also taking a quick look back at Charterhouse. He also didn't want to be seen—but only because he didn't want to have to deal with other people. Once he was spotted on campus he was always dragged into some conversation he didn't want to be a part of. Especially now. But luckily it seemed that the rain had kept the students either snug in their beds, or at the very least, reluctant to go outside. Not wanting to stain their new leather shoes, no doubt.

There was always the risk of running into the drug addicts smoking in the woods, but likely they'd be too high to care about Laurent and Gansey. Drug addicts they were, they were usually the most relaxed, zoinked out students on campus.

He followed Laurent into the woods, breathing in the fresh air, enjoying the way it cooled his body. The scent of leaves and fresh earth was addictive. Lifting their joined hands, he gently brushed his lips against Laurent's knuckles, lightly kissing each one.

Laurent smiled at the kisses, feeling himself falling in love with Gansey with each one. He didn't have a chance of not falling in love with Gansey, his sweet, brilliant, wonderful new boyfriend.

The temptation to kiss him was a low throb in his chest, a thud with every step, an aching, yearning feeling that grew and grew as he walked. Laurent held it back, knowing that if he gave into the temptation to just make out in the woods, they'd never get anywhere.

They walked for an hour. Laurent wasn't as fit as Gansey, but he diligently attended fencing practice and he often went for walks in the woods, so he kept a regular, steady pace, never letting go of Gansey's hand. "Look, here's one of the old Charterhouse follies," he said, leading Gansey to a fat stone cylinder that sat in the middle of the woods. It served no functional purpose, aside from the small stone bench carved into it, and it was taller than either of them, and crowned with a weathered but distinct stone pineapple.

They could walk for days, holding hands, and Gansey would never get tired. It was nice to stretch his muscles out in nature, without the crowing of Charterhouse boys. Knowing that Laurent's hand warmed because it was linked with his... it made his chest ache in a way it never had before. It was difficult to find a name for the feeling, so he didn't. Merely allowed himself to feel it.

"Oh! I like the pineapple. Very festive." Tugging Laurent's hand, he stepped closer to it, looking at the bench carved into it. It seemed plenty of room for two people.

"Let's sit. I want to take a picture."

Because the leather bound book of things of Laurent was almost certainly taking precedence today. Sliding onto the bench, he tugged Laurent into the spot next to him and wiggled his phone from his pocket. Selfies were easy. Holding the phone up, he reversed the view so that it caught them, looking snug together. Quickly snapping the picture, he smiled, looking at it.

"Looks good."

Laurent smiled, head down, slightly wary but also very pleased to be photographed with Gansey. "I love follies like this. I suppose I do love England, a bit, what little of it I've seen. Even though I know that it's evidence of some selfish nobleman with too much money, who could afford to build a structure that served no purpose but decoration, but I still like that it's a testament to the whimsy of human nature. That once upon a time there was a person who wanted nothing more than a cylinder with a bench and a pineapple in the middle of the forest."

Grinning, he rested his head on Gansey's shoulder, content to sit with him in the peaceful forest, and to rest a bit after their hike. "It's only a bit farther to the temple."

Quietly, Gansey set the photo as the background on his phone before he slipped it back into his pocket.

"We should see more if it, then. Before we head off to other countries." Resting their joined hands on his thigh, he looked up at the trees, admiring their tallness and the way they formed a bridge of leaves. "There's something to be said for aesthetic, I think. Money that could have been better spent elsewhere, I'm sure... but look at us now." It still stood, and for them, it meant something.

Tilting his own head, he rested his cheek atop Laurent's head.

"Let's break here for a bit, then continue on. We've been walking for about an hour, haven't we?" Gently, he stroked his thumb across the back of Laurent's hand.

"Yes," Laurent said, smiling happily. "It's nice, how affectionate you are. I've never liked being touched before, but with you, I never want you to let me go. Only partly because you're a very pleasant heat source."

Grinning, Laurent turned and kissed just under Gansey's jaw, then got up. "Come on. We're almost there. I'm excited to show you."

He led Gansey a little further through the woods, to the edge of a lake. They could see the "temple" at once. It was overgrown with ivy and encroached upon by the surrounding trees, but it still shone with white marble, a neo-classical temple with a figure of a young Apollo enshrined at the center, beautifully carved in white marble and carrying a broken marble bow.

At the sight of the temple, Gansey gave a low whistle. Careful as he walked closer, he scanned the area, admiring the way the ivy overgrew on pillars, and how marble shone in sunlight. A temple on the edge of a lake... if he had known something like this was within walking distance he'd have spent a lot less time mulling around the library.

"It's lovely," he finally said, resting one of his hands on a slab of stone, looking up and admiring the young Apollo. With an impish grin he slid his arm around the waist of the statue and glanced back, "What do you think? Could I pass as Hyacinth?"

Laurent laughed, reaching for Gansey's other arm and pulling him back, jealous even of a statue. He pulled Gansey close, sliding an arm around Gansey's waist and smiling at him from inches away. "No," he answered, nose brushing very lightly against Gansey's, slow and teasing. "Definitely not."

He leaned back slightly, just out of kissing range, without letting go. All teasing, flirtatious smiles, he let the denial hang for a moment, eyes low-lidded with secrets. "You're Apollo."

"Oh...?"

They had been close enough to kiss and his lips tingled from the proximity alone. Laurent was dangerous when flirting; very alluring, and altogether distracting.

"Am I?" Eyebrow arched, he considered what that could mean, humor warm in his eyes. "Is that because I'm destined to chase the chase young man I'd very much like to kiss? Or are you simply comparing our shoulders?"

"You're the closest thing to a young god I've ever seen," Laurent said, flirting. "All warmth and sunlight, golden skin and charm. The shoulders are very nice. And the--I've always been particularly distracted by a well-defined Apollo's belt on a man, and the glimpse I've had of yours is..." Laurent drew his teeth over his bottom lip, considering the adjective I've wanted. "Divine," he decided, playful and relaxed. "Perhaps you're going to reveal that you're secretly Apollo in truth, and have been all along? Though that would mean you've been only pretending to be less than proficient at Greek."

Oh, how Gansey laughed, eyelids fluttering and dimple breaking under his eye lightly.

"I would never lie about that. Not when there are so many fantastic texts to translate." Taking a step back, he rounded the statue playfully, leaning against it as he regarded Laurent with a smirk.

"And if I were really Apollo, I would no doubt have whisked you away already. I'd say that I would have serenaded you with poetry, but I've done that, haven't I?" Chewing his lip, his gaze flicked up and down, "When was it that you were admiring my Apollo's belt?"

"When you took your shirt off," Laurent responded, smirking likewise, warm and affectionate. He walked to the other side of the statue, looking up at it through hooded eyes and trailing a fingertip along the prominent crest of the Apollo's belt, just above the low-slung scrap of fabric that was carved around his upper thighs in the name of modesty. "Well, you may have to worry if Apollo himself does descend and whisk me away. As for anyone less... I feel very certain that no one can compare."

"I would put up a fight, even against a god."

He stepped down, admiring the pillars, tracing his hands along those, "I can only pray that he doesn't notice you. I would not want to lose you."

Glancing back, he did have to admit that Laurent made quite the striking figure next to the god. With his golden hair and pale skin, he looked the part of a modern day Ganymede. Which put the danger more in the court of Zeus.

"Is he your favorite of the Olympians?"

Laurent nodded, smiling over his shoulder at Gansey. "Yes. The god of art and medicine, of history, of joy, of love between men." Leaving the statue, Laurent reached for Gansey, pressing close to him and resting their foreheads together. "Perhaps he will bless us, being far too entranced by young beauties whose tongues are not quite so sharp as mine, and pleased by how very fond we are of each other. If there is or ever has been any such thing as gods."

Gansey was warm, and Laurent's heart pounded with the effort of not immediately kissing him. He shut his eyes, feeling Gansey's breath against his mouth, sweet with a trace of ice cream and a hint of mint.

When Laurent came to him, Gansey wrapped his arms around his waist. Holding him close. Tenderly. With an affection he didn't know he could have.

Their faces were close, and Gansey gently nudged their noses against one another. "I happen to think that your tongue is perfectly sharp."

Even with Apollo watching, Gansey could not resist closing the small gap between them. A short, sweet kiss. Still chaste in nature, as they were still beginning to know each other, but it was quickly followed by a longer kiss. One where he wound his fingers into Laurent's hair and closed his eyes, forgetting what godly eyes might be on them.

Laurent made a very soft sound of pleasure into Gansey's mouth, parting his lips as they kissed and learning this new, physical language, of how his mouth moved against Gansey's, of their own shared give and take, of how to tease and when to yield.

His breath was quick as he pulled away, heart pounding and eyes slightly wide. "You make me feel... like I never imagined that I could."

Gansey's heart was pounding, too. Everything felt light. The sun seemed brighter, the air seemed fresher, and the leaves seemed greener. Laurent's eyes were an impossible shade of blue. The sort of shade that was vivid in paintings, yet always somehow duller in real life. But they were real and they were looking at him.

Sliding one of his hands into Laurent's and squeezing it, Gansey smiled, looking at his new boyfriend with endless affection.

"That's good, I hope," he chuckled, a few strands of loose hair curling over his forehead.

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