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Chapter Text

"Please?"

"Carlo, no."

"Pleaaassseeee?"

Dear lord.

A small pout, just enough to be cute instead of grating, and one large pair of eyes later Romeo found himself in the ruined streets of Elysion Boulevard. He was never good at denying his lover anything, and when P woke up next to him with the inexplicable urge to walk around Krat, he still hadn't become strong enough to fight him on it. Knowing P's habit for overworking himself - one that had only grown worse when he became a puppet and lost Gepetto - he was genuinely worried for his Prince's wellbeing. His father's death had made an impact on P, and how much the puppet tried to suppress it, Romeo noticed.

Eugénie noticed.

Sophia noticed.

Everybody did, really. Everybody but P himself.

The sun felt gracious that day. She brushed her fingertips filled with light over the streets of Krat, putting all the rubbish and blood into a new perspective: a hopeful one. Everywhere, constructions had been built to support the crumbling walls that were either shaken by the earthquakes, or destroyed by the Puppet Frenzy or Carcasses. Eugénie had invented a machine that was able to suck up the decay spores, and Romeo, even though he didn't want to go, gladly filled his lungs with fresh air. Once weighed down by the smell of death, it now smelled like the flowers they had planted in the open places where buildings couldn't be rebuilt and were demolished. P had insisted on blue ones, for some reason.

Krat was healing. An outsider might scoff and say that was ridiculous. How could you call a city, rotten and destroyed, "healing"? But for the residents that had witnessed the horrors that hadn't stopped so long ago, it was heaven for the few that were able to make it. Their story hadn't gotten a happy ending yet, and they were still alive to experience it. And his Prince stood in the middle of it all, amazingly oblivious to the love the citizens had for him.

Seemingly oblivious for the way Romeo yearned for him.

"Are you sure, Carlo?" he asked, the Italian accent heavy on his name.

P nodded. "Why not?" Either he didn't see the hand Romeo stretched out to him, or ignored it. Both were fine for the King. After all, P had been through a lot. It would be absolute madness to expect him to be able to function perfectly. And still... Romeo couldn't help but feel something close to jealousy when children ran out of buildings towards P, cornering the laughing puppet, and dragging them into their little games, while Romeo watched from the sidelines.

He was too tall, his body moved too loud, his puppet joints were too visible... He understood. If he was a little kid, he would be scared of himself too. And still it hurt. He sighed, leaning against a wall that looked safe, and watched as P sat with his legs crossed on the floor, letting some girl named Sophie weave flowers into his brown locks. Toma, still weak from his sickness, rested his head on his shoulder, occasionally looking up when one of his friends said something.

It was often like this. On days when they weren't working, the kids took advantage of their free time. Otherwise, they didn't dare to come out. Too scared to do so. P made them feel safe. And ironically, P was scared to meet them the first time. They liked him more than he ever expected, and Romeo would pay a fortune to see the realisation down on P's face one more time. It was a glorious sight, and even Sophia had let her serene demeanor crack for a moment by snickering.

His gaze slid over to where Eugénie stood talking to a blind woman. P had told him about her, almost crying as he did. She had lost her vision due to the Petrification Disease, but was saved just in time. Her daughter Elena had apparently died, and, if Romeo were to believe P's story, his lover had given her a baby puppet. The kids often visited her, but she still clutched the broken puppet in her arms at night, whispering fairy tales to it. Eugénie, the kind girl she was, had polished the baby, making its surface feel like actual real skin. Venigni had given it a voice box, and now it sometimes made a sound similar to that of a human baby's.

None of them seemed disturbed by it. Maybe Romeo shouldn't judge her either. He just couldn't understand how somebody could love a broken baby puppet, but his own lover distanced himself from him. Sure, he didn't look amazing, but he was more human than that baby puppet could ever be!

"Ah, compagno, why the sad face?" a cheery voice from behind him said.

Romeo looked over his shoulder and saw Venigni approaching. He forced a smile and nodded as a greeting. "Sir," he muttered.

"How many times, compagno?" the man cried. "It's Venigni! Not Sir. Of course, Venigni The Incredible is also acceptable." He winked, and Romeo, to his own surprise, snorted. God, it had taken some time for him to finally appreciate Venigni. "You look troubled," the man said. "Everything alright?"

"Yea, very." Romeo nodded, but his gaze slid back over to P, betraying his thoughts.

"Ah! Young love. Trouble in paradiso?"

Romeo lowered his gaze. "I wouldn't exactly call it paradiso anymore."

"Nonsense!" Venigni smiled. "You two together are the jewels of Krat! I've never seen love more polished than that! How could that go wrong?"

Romeo frowned. Well what was he supposed to say? My lover, already troubled by trauma, is choosing more direct problems over me? Wow. That really made him look like an attention-seeking prick. He sighed. "P is... acting weird, lately. I'm worried."

"May I interrupt?" another voice rang, the French accent betraying Julian immediately. He wore a light shirt, but his torn pants failed to give him the distinguished look he used to have. "Have you tried... talking, to P?" Romeo felt called out. Well - had HAD tried. A little bit. Dropping very faint hints P was supposed to understand... Yea no. He hadn't tried at all. Too scared to meet rejection, for some reason. Julian smiled. "My Melody used to like walks a lot. She would unwind during them and would usually start to talk more easily."

Venigni snapped his fingers. "Of course! Walks! Women are always into that - for some reason."

"Carlo isn't a woman...?" Romeo said.

"Puppets, women, men..." Venigni winked. "They all had a crush on me once. Now believe me when I say, walks will do good, but sharing a night of passion might-" Julian fake-coughed in his hand, sending Venigni a sharp look. "Oh, please!" the man cried. "Don't tell me you're all prudes! There's nothing wrong with indulging in the temptation of the flesh." Romeo rubbed his temples. Dear lord, this got on his nerves even more, even though they were trying to help.

"With all due respect," he interrupted the two bickering men, "I know Carlo the best."

"True, true," Venigni nodded. "But in all seriousness, P is a special someone, and I completely understand the fear to disappoint. I heard the children in Rosa Isabelle are performing a small play tonight... Maybe that's an idea?"

Romeo nodded. Sure, it was better than nothing. But as he looked at the way P played with the kids... He wanted to be gone from them for a while. Wanted to talk things out. But maybe he should follow Venigni's advice - P did seem to love the children, after all. And it was childish to be envious of such a big heart, one that tried to have room for everyone.

<3

"What do you think of it, Sir Carlo?" Sophie asked, leaning over his shoulder, holding out a big shard of broken glass. P grimaced, and gently took it out of her hands, not wanting her to cut herself. He tilted the piece, catching his reflection, his brown hair making the bright flowers woven into it pop. He smiled politely.

"It's beautiful, thank you," he softly said. Sophie smiled and skipped away. She never stayed around for long. Suddenly, all of the kids scattered, walking away. Even Toma shook awake from his nap, and carefully pushed himself upright, walking back towards the blind woman. P frowned, not understanding what he had done wrong, until a large shadow fell over him. He looked up, his eyes meeting Romeo's. Carrying Romeo's gaze always felt like a pair of hands grabbed a hold of his heart: both holding it together, but strong enough to break it a thousand times. Did he feel the same with Gepetto? He didn't remember.

"You look beautiful," His King murmured, a faint smile on his lips. P cast his gaze down before he could see him blush. The last thing he wanted was fall too hard and shatter his heart either way when he hit the ground.

"They're just flowers."

"And they suit you," Romeo continued. A long sigh fell from those burned lips he was sure would burn him too, before His King sat down beside him. "I need to ask you something. And... you are free to refuse if you want, but it would mean a lot to me if you listened."

P felt his stomach tighten. He knew his Romeo wouldn't hurt him... Right? It remained a thought in his head, swimming around, slamming against the walls of his skull, screaming for attention. Sucking up all the attention reserved for his lover. He nodded.

Romeo took a deep breath. "Apparently there is this... play, tonight?"

Oh. P relaxed. "Yea. Sophia helped the kids write the script. It's short, though. Like the performances at Rose Estate. 'The Wooden Boy' I believe it's called. Something about somebody carving a child out of a talking piece of wood."

"You used to love that story," Romeo said, almost dreamily. P blinked, looking up, insecurity settling in his stomach. Truth was, he hated the play. Somehow, somewhere in between becoming human, his mind had made a connection between himself and the wooden boy. Stupid, it was, truly, but he couldn't shake it off. And now Romeo wanted him to love it - well, what else was he supposed to want? Of course his lover wanted to retrieve whatever was left of their relationship. But what would happen when Romeo realised that P wasn't Carlo, that it didn't matter how many times he called him that? What would happen when Romeo finally saw what had become of him: a murderer. 'Oh, the havoc you must have wreaked to get here...' Arlecchino's voice rang in his head, taunting him, confronting him in a way P feared most of all. Confronting him with the truth he had bent over the course of his journey. "You would always ask me to read it to you," Romeo continued, and P tried to pay attention, but he just couldn't, his eyes glazing over as he tumbled further down the rabbit hole Arlecchino had dug for him.

Suddenly, fingers snapped in front of his eyes. "Carlo?"

"Y-yes!" P quickly said. Too quick.

Romeo sighed. "I just wished to ask you to go there with me."

"W-well I was planning on going." That was a lie. A horrible lie, told in hope to see Romeo's face light up. "You can come with me, if you want to." Despite his good intentions, his lover's face only fell even more, and P panicked. "Like... I'm sure Sophia has an... extra ticket? O-of course she has. I mean, why wouldn't she have one for you?"

From a distance, Julian and Venigni watched, sharing a knowing look, along with second-hand embarassment.

"For immortal puppets they are quite..." Venigni started, trying to choose his words carefully.

"Stupid?" Julian prompted.

"In certain situations, yes," the inventor sighed, frowning as he watched P starting to ramble, while Romeo just sat there and blinked, unable to keep up with the jumbled explanation that fell from P's lips. "They'll be on their way with a helping hand, though. Just watch me."

Julian grimaced. "Please, don't make it worse."

"Nonsense! Look around you! Everything I do always succeeds." Julian shot him a look. "Well. Not everything," Venigni admitted. "But I am a most ferocious lover, and I know exactly what to do!"

Sir, with all due respect, if your intent is erotic or anything hinting that way, I'll personally strap you to a chair."

"Pulcinella would free me."

"Pulcinella would agree with me," Julian smiled, the humble expression a stark contrast to his words.

"Maybe, my friend, maybe!" Venigni laughed, as he walked over to the kids and crouched down beside them. He engaged in a short conversation, before returning to Julian with a broad smile on his face. "Just you wait and see..."

Chapter Text

The sun had long set when P and Romeo left the hotel for the children's play. Golden rays of sunlight made the city bathe in an ethereal glow, and the ruins of Krat suddenly seemed majestic instead of dreary. It felt... soft. The only way P was able to describe it, really. Softer than he probably deserved.

Romeo hadn't attempted to touch him ever since he reached out to hold P's hand before they left, and he skittishly recoiled. He just couldn't help it, but he would give anything for Romeo to try again, even though his touch would probably burn the worst of all. It wasn't his intent to hurt him, not at all. P couldn't find a word for it, but maybe fear came the closest. Fear that if Romeo touched him one too many times, he would realize P's skin was soaked with blood of innocent people. Carlo, though His King kept calling him that, had died a long time ago.

And P dreaded the moment when Romeo would see that more than he had dreaded anything else. None of the horrors he had witnessed - the horrors he himself had inflicted - could compare to that.

"You're so quiet," Romeo murmured. His voice was quiet, almost nervous, as if he was scared a louder tone would scare P away.

"Hm?" P looked up, tugged out of his doomthinking, blinking. Apparently he processed his lover's words a bit too late, and Romeo sighed.

"Nevermind. It's okay."

"N-no, I heard you," P tried to rescue himself. "I was just thinking. Y'know. It's the first play they've acted in years, I wonder how they'll do."

Romeo raised a sceptical eyebrow, and P winced. God, why was it so hard to lie to him? He used to be able to do it with a blank face, blissfully unaware of the monster he was slowly turning into.

"They'll do fine," he then responded.

P gulped. Could the ground just swallow him whole right now, please? "Yea. Of course."

Their footsteps echoed between the walls of the beautiful but tragic-looking Rosa Isabelle Street, billboards flickering with dying lights, mannequins dressed in torn and dirtied clothing but still so hauntingly gorgeous. Blood hadn't been able to cover their soft smiles as they looked at the people who passed the windows of their shops. Wine shops were filled with red splatters of the beverage, shards of coloured glass everywhere. Every step felt like he was dragging a ton of dead puppet bodies along with him. P didn't want to go see the play. He was sure the children would do wonderfully - how could they not? They were wonderful of their own. And he wanted to be there for them so badly, but... It seemed selfishness was just as human as dishonesty. He didn't think he could bear to watch a story so similar to his own. A story that turned the puppet's father into such a loving creature, while his own-

"P? Everything alright?"

Gepetto's Puppet almost jumped at Romeo's concerned tone. It took him a while to fully process the fact that his eyes felt more wet than usually. "Sorry," he quickly said, wiping the tears that started to form away with the sleeve of his deep blue coat. One of his favorite outfits. Deep down he hoped Romeo would notice, compliment him. But he would never admit such a thing. "Something in my eye." Praying Romeo would give him the benefit of the doubt, he cast his gaze downwards, wanting to avoid other prying questions His King was sure to ask.

Because Romeo noticed everything - he was a fool to think he could hide anything from him.

Slowly but surely, they approached one of the few theaters that survived the Puppet Frenzy, and weren't completely ash and ruins. The Corday Theater still had that typical elegance Rosa Isabelle Street was known for. The doors were made out of expensive mahogany, with golden details painted on them. The windows of the little room were tickets could be bought were smashed and shattered, but all of the corpses and puppet bodies had been removed. A bright red banner hung right above the entrance - or, at least, it used to.

P frowned. "Isn't there supposed to be...?" He could see the nails they had hung it up on. Torn pieces of paper still clung to them, but the banner with the title of the play was gone. As if somebody had ripped it off in a sudden haste.

Romeo shrugged. "Maybe it got taken by the wind?"

But P didn't feel at ease just yet. His eyes darted around frantically, glaring into the shadows as if they had personally offended him. He couldn't see it, but behind his back, Romeo smiled when he unconsiously started walking in front of him to shield him.

"Hey," His King softly said. "It'll be fine. Relax, okay? Can you do that for me?"

"I am relaxed," P protested, not ready to lower his guard just yet. It was dark in the hallways, illuminated by faint candles. Maybe the intent was a romantic atmosphere, but now, it only added to his nerves. He could hear all sorts of noises, from thuds to voices, and his ears tried to puzzle them apart, searching for the noises of springs or Carcasses.

Romeo rolled his eyes. "Yea, right." He poked his back, and P jumped.

"What was that for?!" He shrieked, his head whipping around so he could look at Romeo, who snorted.

"Jesus, you look like I suggested you jump off a roof."

"Not funny," P snarled, his voice sharper than he wanted, and a pang went through his heart when he saw the confident look fleeing from Romeo's eyes; leaving him wondering if it was genuine or not. P bit his lip, quickly turning around again. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. How in hell was he supposed to recover from this? The evening had barely begun and he had already fucked up and he felt like crying again.

"Ah, there you are," a soft, female voice sounded. Even in her puppet form, Sophia was the pure embodiment of grace and beauty, her smile serene but welcoming. "We were wondering when you'd arrive. The rest already took their seats. Follow me." P took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Sophia led them into the auditorium of the theater. The seats were soft, made out of a dark wooden frame and a dark red, soft fabric filled up with wool. She gave them two seats next to each other. It was dark, and P could see the contours of other people around them, but wasn't able to make out who they were. He folded his arms over his stomach, watching the stage, his teeth slowly drawing blood - or rather, oil - from his bottom lip. He didn't bother swiping it away with his tongue. Even Romeo couldn't see in the dark.

Slowly, the auditorium fell silent. P's stomach twisted itself in tight knots as a girl walked on stage - Sophie. Her flower crown still rested on his head. She wore a bright red cloak, and tiny black, polished shoes, a bright smile on her face. "Ladies and gentlemen," she proudly spoke, "may I and my friends present to your: "The Girl in Red." P blinked. The what? Shouldn't it be The Wooden Boy? What the hell was going on?? He cast a glance towards Romeo, but even he seemed to be confused by the sudden change of events.

Sophie disappeared behind the curtains of the stage, and the play started. A mother appeared - the blind woman - dressed in a beautiful dark green gown.

"Bring these cookies to your grandmother, will you?" she said, handing a small basket covered with a light pink cloth to Sophie - the girl with the red cloak. "She's sick and will appreciate these." Sophie nodded and skipped away.

P watched and watched, waiting for the moment where they would declare this a joke and start with the actual story. But that moment never came, and he slowly but surely felt himself relaxing. Romeo's hand slid in his and he let them, allowing himself to take a shaky breath.

"See?" Romeo's breath hit the shell of his ear as His King leaned in close, squeezing his hand. "I told you it was gonna be fine."

P slowly nodded, still not believing it. "Yea," he hoarsely whispered. "I'm fine."

<3

Venigni, who sat next to Julian two rows behind the two puppets, smiled, proud of himself. "See?" he repeated Romeo's words to Julian, with a wide grin on his face, quiet so he wouldn't be heard by anyone else. "I told you."

Julian groaned. As much as he hated admitting the eccentric inventor was right... Venigni really did save the night. At least for P. "You indeed told me," he softly said, allowing himself a small smile. He leaned back in his seat, but was no longer watching the play. His heart ached - not with sadness, but with joy - as he saw how P slowly melted into Romeo, until he finally rested his head on the King's shoulder and Romeo had put an arm around P. It reminded him so much of his Melody, and he wished he could tell her about them.

"How did you know?" he whispered to Venigni, who shrugged.

"Had a feeling," he answered. "Gepetto seems to be an, uh, sensitive subject. I'm not the person to intervene with that, but if I can help, I'll help. P is a good young man, deserving of the effort," he then confirmed with a strong nod.

"That, he is," Julian admitted, a soft smile gracing his lips.

Meanwhile Romeo could no longer follow the story of the play. No matter how good the children acted, nothing could tear his eyes away from his lover's face, his heart swelling with pure adoration. The play slowly came to an end, and all of the actors came forward on the stage, receiving a large applause. P twitched besides Romeo, but didn't wake up. Not wanting to disturb his sleep, Romeo carefully scooped him up in his arms, supporting his head with his shoulder, and walked out of the theater with him, all the way back to the hotel, along with Sophia, Venigni and Julian. Eugénie stayed behind to talk with the children.

Once at the hotel, he carried P all the way up the stairs, into their shared bedroom. It was a cozy place: no heavy colours except for a deep red that returned in the cushions, blankets and curtains. The bed was made out of a light wooden frame, and a fire place stood in front of it. A small chandelier hung from the ceiling. It was bigger than most of the rooms in the hotel: when Gepetto died, they had transformed his room into theirs. Spring laid purring on the carpet. Romeo let her, knowing how the cat had the habit of crawling into bed with them, seeking the warmth their bodies gave. Romeo gently placed P on the bed, carefully undressing him before tucking him in. Then he got ready himself, crawling into the bed and turning off the lights.

Suddenly, he felt something between his shoulder blades. P slowly curled into him, pressing his forehead against his back.

"I want kids later."

Romeo blinked. He hadn't realised he had woken P up. "Adoption?" he then quietly asked. He felt his lover nod.

"Yes. Once... once Krat is mostly rebuilt." P wrapped his arms around Romeo's waist, practically spooning him now - even though Romeo was much taller. "A girl. And... and we could call her Patricia."

"Patricia?" Romeo echoed. "Why?"

A moment of silence.

Then: "I met a Patricia once." And suddenly, Romeo was back to when he was fifteen. He sat on the rooftop of the Monad Charity House, P - just Carlo, back then - next to him with a bowl of icecream they had stolen from the kitchen in between them while his friend yapped on and on about the stars and their constellations and what each of them meant. It was the same innocence as then that resonated within P's voice, and Romeo forced the tears welling up in his eyes back. "Fate hadn't been kind to her," P continued, his voice soft as if he was talking to a scared kid. "I want to give her a second chance."

Romeo rolled over, facing P. His lover's gaze remained absent, not really looking at anything. As if he was busy imagining it all. "Patricia sounds lovely," Romeo softly agreed. He grabbed P's hand and kissed his knuckles, making the boy jolt slightly and look up in surprise. But he didn't pull away.

"Are you serious?"

Romeo nodded. "I'm always sincere with you, Carlo."

P's eyes twitched lightly, and Romeo could see the faint moonlight reflecting in the tears that gathered. He leaned forward and buried his face in His King's chest. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice slightly muffled. "You have a lot more patience with me than I deserve."

"You phrase it like handling you is a task."

"Isn't it?"

"Is that you or Gepetto speaking?"

P fell silent again. Romeo gently rubbed his back, kissing his temple.

"I fell in love with you as Carlo," he said, "and I fell in love with you as P. I'll fall in love with every version of you this world has to offer. And I would have patience and make time for every single one of them."