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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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.

"I'm infatuated," Laurent said, squeezing Gansey's hand in return and brushing back those stray curls. "You make me feel like I matter. As though, for once, I matter to someone more than Auguste, that I have some value more than my beauty and my birthright. It's a wonderful feeling."

Laurent tucked his face against Gansey's throat, kissing once at the skin and then just resting his head there. "You're incredible."

A little bewildered, Gansey rested a hand on the back of Laurent's head, gently stroking his hair. "Of course you matter. You matter a great deal, Laurent." Had he been so lonely, for so long? It made Gansey's heart hurt. Perhaps he would feel similarly if he didn't have Adam, Ronan, and Noah.

"I think you're brilliant, fascinating, clever, witty... you're incredible. I'm not incredible for noticing that."

It would be easy to hold Laurent like this forever. Apollo watched them, and Gansey couldn't help but to think that he would probably approve. Quite besotted with each other, indeed.

"You'd be incredible even if you didn't notice," Laurent said, lips curving in a smile. "All on your own. You're magnetic, everyone can see that. I just never realized that under your charisma and good looks there's such a warm, kind heart."

He rested his hand on Gansey's chest, fingertips drawing small little circles, feeling for the steadiness of Gansey's heartbeat. "I'm so glad I'm with you."

Chuckling, he pressed his lips against the top of Laurent's head.

"Well, we never spoke much before. There's no way to know someone until you take the time." Before they met in the library, Gansey had no idea Laurent was such an opinionated, passionate young man. Best he knew was that he was quiet. Bit of a loner. Often dealt with the attention of the other boys and not necessarily the good sort of attention.

"But I'm glad we met. Not to sound cheesy—but I really do feel like it was meant to happen."

"You're so cheesy," Laurent said, grinning fondly. "And I don't believe in fate."

He tilted his head, kissing Gansey softly. A thrill went up his spine, amazed at his own boldness with his new boyfriend. "But I am so very, very glad that I met you. My Gansey."

It was—dazzling, really, how easily they fell together. The few dates he'd ever been on had always been a bit... strained. Trying to figure out what the other person liked. What they disliked. Making pleasant conversation and trying to keep interested. With Laurent it was like one, two, three.

Being called My Gansey made his heart skip a beat, in true cheesy romance novel fashion. Gripping Laurent's hand, he glanced out at the lake, "Shall we find somewhere comfortable to sit and admire the view?" And possibly make out. "There might be a bench somewhere nearby—or maybe a nice patch to spread out."

That was a little iffy since it had rained so vigorously the night before, but you never knew. Leading Laurent toward the edge of the lake and walking along it, he spotted what had once been a white slab to sit on. Overgrown at the bottom with weeds and ivy, it sat not too far from the temple, giving an excellent view of the lake and temple both.

Gansey sat, gazing out at the water. Cocking his head, he pointed, "Oh, that's cool. I see why they did this. From this position... if you look at the water, you can see the reflection of the temple perfectly. It's like there's two."

Laurent perched carefully next to him, so that their thighs were pressed together as they sat. "It's beautiful. The lake would be lovely on its own, or the temple, but together they're magical. If ever something really were holy, I could believe it of a place like this."

He watched Gansey almost as much as the view, blushing and looking away every time he was caught. Gansey made him shy, and he felt vulnerable with his affection, but he also felt safe in Gansey's company.

Gansey smiled, resting his hand on Laurent's thigh, gingerly, as they sat together. The breeze was lovely; it ruffled their hair and the tall grass, the leaves. It was difficult to believe that there had been a torrential downpour just a few hours ago.

Normally he'd already be scribbling out a makeshift map of his own and figuring out coordinates so they could find the easiest way to come back. It was not, however, a normal day. Laurent was more distracting than the temple, even if he still wondered who had built it here, or brought it here, and how it ended up forgotten.

"Would it be all right if I kissed you again?" he asked, voice quite soft.

Laurent smiled at that, nodding. He turned, putting one arm around Gansey's waist and curling the other one around the back of his head. Giving Gansey a shy but affectionate smile, he leaned in, softly pressing their lips together in a kiss.

He could feel his heart pounding, pulse heavy in his throat and hands. Nervous but full of hope, Laurent kissed him.

That touch of shyness was utterly charming. It made Gansey want to melt into a puddle of sunlight. But melting would detract from kissing, which was simply unacceptable.

Their lips met and Gansey brought his hand up to cup Laurent's cheek, thumb brushing tenderly beneath his eye. It began as a short, soft kiss, that he gently lead into another one that held for longer. Lips he could write poetry about, a handsome slope of mouth that would haunt his daydreams.

Tilting his head, Gansey parted his lips and curiously brushed his tongue against Laurent's, asking for permission to deepen their kiss.

Laurent made a soft sound of pleasure at the touch of tongue. His body warmed, blood rising to the surface of his skin and to his groin. He pressed a little closer, parting his lips and tentatively moving his tongue against Gansey's.

It was odd, he thought, the slick of their tongues together, but it also felt incredibly good. Intimate. Passionate.

Heart quickening, Laurent felt briefly overwhelmed by the force of his emotions. He broke the kiss, tucking his face against the curve of Gansey's neck and panting.

When their tongues mingled, Gansey's stomach rolled. It felt—incredibly good. Warm before, he was feeling particularly hot under the collar within a few seconds of their tongues moving against one another, lips rubbing, swapping spit.

Then Laurent pulled back and Gansey's hands dropped to his upper arms, lightly. "Are you all right?" he asked as Laurent pressed his face into the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. Was it too much? Gansey wasn't sure how much experience Laurent had before him, or how much he was interested in at all.

Gently, he rubbed Laurent's back.

"More than all right. My head is spinning. Everything has happened so fast in the past two days." Laurent nuzzled softly at him, cuddling against Gansey's side. "My whole life has changed. I thought that I was doomed to a political arrangement, thought I'd never be loved. I've only just met you, and I'm already falling for you." His heart was pounding, scared of rejection, scared that this was all too good to be true. Far too good to be true.

Gansey slid his arms around Laurent, holding him tight against his chest and resting his chin on top of his head. "I know," he said, voice low and soothing. "It is fast, isn't it? But... it feels right." While he couldn't related on the note of being doomed to a political arrangement, on love... it had felt like it would never happen.

Though, he chided himself, it was too soon to talk of love. He... really, really, really liked Laurent. Could someone fall in love in two days? He didn't know. He had never been in love before so he had nothing to compare it to.

Voice honeyed and sweet, "Please continue to fall for me. I would like that very much. I am, after all, quite taken with you."

Laurent smiled, relaxing into his arms and savoring the feeling of being held. "It's frightening, though. Falling. In case you change your mind and don't catch me. Or the other way around. Intimacy makes people vulnerable, and I've always hated feeling vulnerable." Sighing once, Laurent closed his eyes, hugging tight.

"I'll catch you," he promised without a lick of hesitation. "I can't promise I'll be perfect—despite the rumors, I have many, many flaws. But I'll always try. And I'll always be there for you."

He understood the fear of vulnerability; it was something he struggled with too. Showing a true face when everyone expected something... flawless. Letting out those little fears, sharing his worries, admitting his anxieties.

"As for feeling vulnerable... we can take that one step at a time." His mouth quirked with a wry smile. "Baby steps?"

"Many, many flaws?" Laurent asked, amused and reassured by Gansey's heartfelt honesty. He wanted to believe everything Gansey said, that he'd always be there, that he'd catch him. "What kind of flaws? Aside from terrible taste in cars and deeply questionable taste in boyfriends."

"I've also been told I have terrible taste in fashion," he added, "and that I... what was it? I sound like a ninety year old man?"

Chuckling, he pressed his lips against the top of Laurent's head again. "I'm not sure I want to tell you more. You might decide I'm too much work and find a guy with more going for him."

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