Chapter 33: Happy Birthday, My Prince

Darius suddenly straightened, abandoning the act. The silly expression softened into something warmer and oddly sincere, though no less persistent.

"Pretty please, brother?" he said, sounding far more genuine this time. "Just cut the cake with me. That’s all I’m asking. If you still hate me afterward, I’ll leave."

Basil released a tired breath and closed his eyes for a moment. "I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish."

Something flickered briefly across Darius’s face, a shadowed emotion that made Basil look away. "But please... just stop. It’s exhausting." The words came out quieter than he intended, carrying the full weight of his frayed nerves. "I don’t need any more confusion in my life right now."

The humor vanished from Darius’s face. The change was immediate enough to make Basil glance back at him. Darius fell silent, the easy smiles and teasing expressions disappearing as though they had never existed. His grip tightened slightly around the cake box, the ribbon crinkling faintly beneath his fingers. Those unnervingly blue eyes searched Basil’s pale, exhausted face with an intensity that made it difficult to look away.

"Am I really that difficult to get along with?" he asked quietly, the genuine hurt in his voice catching Basil completely off guard.

Basil blinked, his breath catching in his throat as the sharp bite of his irritation faltered. "That’s... that’s not what I meant," he said, the words coming out slower than before. He hated how the sudden shift in Darius’s tone made his heart ache with unexpected guilt. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked down at the floorboards. "I just..." He struggled to find the right words. "I just need some space to figure things out. Everything is still so messed up and overwhelming."

The admission felt far more honest than he had intended. For a few seconds, Darius simply stood there. Then he let out a short, hollow breath and stepped closer until his shadow enveloped Basil completely.

"You think you’re the only one trying to figure things out?"

Basil looked up, stunned by how raw his voice sounded, stripped of any teasing warmth or playful mockery.

Darius smiled at him, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Do you think I’m not feeling the same way?" he asked. "Do you think I’m happy that you’re standing here looking at me like I’m some problem that appeared in your life and ruined everything?"

His jaw tightened.

"Do you think I’m happy knowing I’m the reason you’re feeling like this? The reason you feel like an outcast in your own home? The reason you tense up and look ready to run every time I get near you?"

Basil’s chest tightened painfully.

Darius looked away briefly, exhaling through his nose.

​"I hate myself for it, Basil. I hate that my existence is destroying yours." He paused, his chest heaving slightly as his gaze returned to Basil. "Doing all these things, forcing my way into your space even when you made it obvious you don’t want me there, it’s the only way I know how to pull us together. It’s my own screwed-up way of trying to make things right. I know it probably makes everything worse. I know I push too hard. I know I say stupid things. But doing all this, even if it looks ridiculous, is the only way I know how."

Darius shifted the package in his hands, his knuckles tense against the cardstock. "I spent my whole life not knowing I had a family. Then suddenly I find out I have a brother, someone who was raised in my place." A bitter smile crossed his face. "Only to realize he’s miserable because of me."

He swallowed hard.

"So yeah, maybe I’m forcing things. Maybe I’m trying too hard. But it’s because I don’t know what else to do. Because I don’t want you to hate me, my prince."

The title sounded different coming from him. Somehow, hearing it made Basil’s heart slam against his ribs with a sudden, humiliating heat. Basil internally chastised himself, horrified by his own body. Something was seriously wrong with him, because how could he be reacting this way simply because the real prince had called him my prince? It was ridiculous. Embarrassing. Completely inappropriate. At this point, Basil was starting to suspect his brain had finally given up functioning altogether.

"Please," Darius continued quietly. "Just give me a chance to prove that we don’t have to be enemies. I’m not your enemy."

Basil’s breath hitched. In the depths of Darius’s sharp blue eyes, he found no deception, no hidden malice, no elaborate scheme. There was only a desperate, almost painful need to bridge the distance between them. A cold wave of shame washed over him, cutting through layers of self-pity he hadn’t even realized he was carrying. How could he be so selfish? How could he keep forgetting that Darius was the true victim here? The one who had been stripped of his birthright. The one who had grown up without a family. The one who had lost twenty-one years he could never get back. And despite all of that, Darius was still standing here, carrying a stupid cake and practically begging for the smallest sliver of acceptance while Basil acted like a bitter, wounded child lashing out at the wrong person.

The guilt hit him like a punch to the ribs.

Gods, I’m such an asshole.

He had spent so much time drowning in his own misery that he had barely stopped to consider what any of this must have felt like for Darius. Swallowing the lump forming in his throat, Basil finally let out a long breath. Then he stepped aside and pushed the door open wider. "You can come in," he murmured softly.

For a moment, Darius simply stared at him, then his entire face lit up. The transformation was so sudden it was almost blinding.

"Really?"

Basil immediately regretted everything.

"Don’t make me change my mind."

Darius grinned. "Thank you."

Before Basil could respond, Darius was already walking past him and into the suite, carrying the cake box like a sacred offering he had been entrusted to deliver.

"I really hope I’m not going to regret this," Basil muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then he stepped inside and closed the door with a quiet click.

By the time he turned around, Darius was already making himself at home, setting the cake box down on the portable dining table near the window. With a swift flick of his wrist, he produced a small box of matches and a handful of thin birthday candles from his pocket. Basil’s eyebrows shot up in faint surprise as Darius firmly stuck the candles into the frosting and lit them one by one. Small flames flickered to life, their warm glow dancing across his face. Once he was satisfied, he stepped back and waved enthusiastically.

"Come on over. We need to get started."

Basil stared at him.

Darius waved harder. "Come on."

Basil dragged his feet across the room. The moment he got close enough, Darius began clapping his hands rhythmically, launching into a boisterous rendition of Happy Birthday to Us. When Basil refused to sing along, Darius stopped and pouted.

"Come on. At least pretend like you’re actually enjoying yourself."

Reluctantly, Basil gave in, his voice little more than a quiet murmur as he joined in. Darius’s face immediately lit up. Together, they finished the ridiculous song.

The second it ended, Darius pointed dramatically at the candles. "Now let me make a wish, and then we blow the candles out together," he said, his eyes sparkling.

Basil looked at him, searching for any trace of irony, but found none. Lowering his head alongside Darius, he joined him in blowing out the candles. Smoke curled lazily into the air, and Darius instantly cheered, far more excited than Basil ever thought a grown man had any right to be over a belated birthday cake.

Before Basil could step back, Darius gripped his wrist and guided his hand onto the knife handle. Basil didn’t even know when or where the knife had appeared from. Together, they sliced through the soft sponge. Without warning, Darius cut out a generous piece and shoved it directly into Basil’s mouth.

A flash of sharp irritation flared in Basil’s chest, but it died the second he caught the sheer, unbridled happiness radiating from Darius’s face. Against his better judgment, Basil felt the faint tug of a smile pulling at his own lips. He swept his tongue across his lower lip, licking away a smudge of stray cream. The cake was actually good.

Darius’s eyes tracked the movement instantly, darkening.

Their eyes met, and for one long, heavy second, time seemed to pause in the quiet room.

"Happy birthday, my prince," Darius muttered, his voice dropping into a low, velvety rasp that vibrated straight through Basil’s veins.

The humiliating heat he had been fighting all day came roaring back with terrifying force. Panic seized his chest. He abruptly spun on his heel and practically fled toward the bathroom, slamming the door shut .