Horatio sat in his bed reading, trying to soothe his mind before going to bed. Someone knocked on his bedroom door, interrupting him.
"Just a minute!" Horatio shouted, struggling out of bed and hastily shoving a crumpled white dress shirt on over his bare chest. He opened his door and stood back, suddenly self-conscious. Prince Hamlet was standing in his doorway. The prince was tall and lean, with short, dark brown hair and a calm, nervous look in his chocolate brown eyes that Horatio couldn't quite place. He was wearing an all-black suit - one he had insisted on wearing ever since his father died.
When Horatio opened his door, Hamlet couldn't help but smile. The scholarly man was huge - tall and extremely muscular. He wore his straight, auburn hair down to his shoulders, its copper streaks glimmering in the dim orange light of the gas lanterns on the wall of the room. His emerald eyes had widened in surprise when he saw the prince.
"My lord..." he breathed. "I wasn't expecting you. I apologize sincerely for not being entirely... dressed." Horatio was wearing trousers and a hastily thrown on dress shirt.
"Relax, Horatio, it's fine," Hamlet assured him, blushing slightly. "May I... may I come in?"
"Of course, my lord."
"Please, let's skip the formalities. This is personal." Hamlet stepped in the door and shut it softly behind him. "You can call me Hamlet."
"Oh, a... alright."
"Horatio, there's... something I wanted to tell you about."
"Oh, of course. Anything."
"Well, I just... Lately, with everything that's happening... I'm troubled, Horatio. What if I don't kill Claudius? What if I die without..." The breath caught in Hamlet's throat. He couldn't finish.
"Without what?" Horatio asked with an intense look in his eyes. Was it hope?
"Without telling you..." Hamlet whispered, searching for courage. "I love you, Horatio!" Horatio blinked, taken aback by Hamlet's bold confession.
"Well, I... We've always been such good friends, and I –"
"No, no... that's not what I meant..." Hamlet sighed deeply. How could he explain it? He got an idea, an outlandish idea. What the hell, he thought, just do it. You're the prince; what can he do? Hamlet took a deep breath, looked into his friend's dark, emerald eyes, took a hold of Horatio's face and pulled him into a deep, seductive kiss. Horatio was frozen a moment, surprised, but then, to Hamlet's amazement, he began to kiss back. Hamlet felt a strong arm loop around his waist and pull him closer to the man he'd dreamed about – if he wasn't dreaming now. Hamlet pulled back out of the kiss.
"Oh my God!" he exclaimed, relieved. "I was just so nervous talking about this, and I never thought I'd actually be able to–"
"I'm so glad you did," Horatio answered, smiling. "I know I could never have brought it up to you. I've loved you for... a long time." They sat down on the bed, and Hamlet leaned into Horatio's chest, laying his head on Horatio's shoulder. Hamlet started fiddling with the buttons on Horatio's shirt.
"I've been thinking about us a lot. About us doing... stuff. Together." Horatio's arm slid down Hamlet's waist to rest around his hips. "You don't have to do anything. I don't want you to think I'd make you..." Horatio gently gripped Hamlet's chin and turned Hamlet's head so Hamlet would face him.
Horatio spoke, looking straight into the prince's eyes: "Don't worry about it. I want to." Hamlet gasped as Horatio kissed him and they fell backwards into the bed.