Red, White & Royal Blue

by Casey McQuiston

By day three, none. He’s spent too much of his life talking, talking, talking not to know the signs when someone doesn’t want to hear him anymore.

“Really nice,” Alex yells after him, dripping as aggressively as he can manage along the way. He hopes he ruins a rug.

I can see why all y’all had to marry your fucking cousins.”

Something rises in Alex’s throat—anger, confusion, hurt, bile. Unforgivably, he feels like he might cry.

“I fucking love you, okay?” Alex half yells, finally, irreversibly.

“Fuck, I swear. You don’t make it fucking easy. But I’m in love with you.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Henry says, “I’ve been trying to be happy my entire idiot life. My birthright is a country, not happiness.”

“Alex, Thisbe and Pyramus both die at the end.”

“When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you? Are you so fucking self-absorbed as to think this is about you and whether or not I love you, rather than the fact I’m an heir to the fucking throne? You at least have the option to not choose a public life eventually, but I will live and die in these palaces and in this family, so don’t you dare come to me and question if I love you when it’s the thing that could bloody well ruin everything.”

I may cry

I can love you and want you and still not want that life. I’m allowed, all right, and it doesn’t make me a liar; it makes me a man with some infinitesimal shred of self-preservation, unlike you, and you don’t get to come here and call me a coward for it.”

“You know what? Fucking fine. I’ll leave.” “Good.” “I’ll leave,” he says, and he turns back and leans in, “as soon as you tell me to leave.” “Alex.”

If he’s getting his heart broken tonight, he’s sure as hell going to make Henry have the guts to do it right.

“Tell me you’re done with me. I’ll get back on the plane. That’s it. And you can live here in your tower and be miserable forever, write a whole book of sad fuc...

He tells his too-fast brain: Don’t miss it this time. He’s too important.

“You seem … less pissy.” Henry huffs a laugh. “You’re one to talk. I wasn’t the one who stormed the palace in a fit of pique to call me an ‘obtuse fucking asshole.’”

Have you ever seen someone eat toast without anything on it? Harrowing, truly.”

And it’s not that he’s unhappy. He’s fine. It’s all very deeply fine. A whole lifetime of fine.”

I’ve always thought of myself as a problem that deserved to stay hidden. Never quite trusted myself, or what I wanted. Before you, I was all right letting everything happen to me. I honestly have never thought I deserved to choose.”

I panicked, and it was daft and unfair, and I won’t do it again.”

“I’m terrified, and my whole life is completely mad, but trying to give you up this week nearly killed me.

So I can offer you all of me, in whatever way you’ll have me, and I can offer you the chance of a life. If you can wait, I want you to help me try.”

“Diaz, you insane, hopeless romantic little shit,” says the voice of the President of the United States, muffled in the bed. “It had better be forever. Be safe.”

“What was that for?” “I just, like.” Alex shrugs. “Really love you.”

“In here, at night, it’s almost like walking through a real piazza,” Henry says. “But there’s nobody else around to touch you or gawk at you or try to steal a photo of you. You can just be.”

He squeezes Henry’s hand and says, “Tell me everything.”

Please let this kind of love find me

Did you know the reason the King James translation of the Bible exists is because the Church of England was so displeased with James for flaunting his relationship with Villiers that he had the translation commissioned to appease them?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alex says. “The top list of reasons to love you goes brain, then dick, then imminent status as a revolutionary gay icon.”

“You are quite literally Queen Victoria’s worst nightmare.” “And that’s why you love me.” “My God, you’re right. All this time, I was just after the bloke who’d most infuriate my homophobic forebears.”

“When I was younger,” Henry says, “I had this very elaborate idea of taking somebody I loved here and standing inside the chapel, that he’d love it as much as I did, and we’d slow dance right in front of the Blessed Mother. Just a … daft pubescent fantasy.”

Alex exhales a laugh. “Aren’t you gonna ask if I know how to waltz?” “No waltzing,” Henry says. “Never cared for it.”

“I want you to know, I’m sure. A thousand percent.” He removes his hand and there, sitting in the center of Alex’s callused palm, is the signet ring.

“Keep it,” Henry tells him. “I’m sick of wearing it.”

At cruising altitude, he takes the chain off his neck and slides the ring on next to the old house key. They clink together gently as he tucks them both under his shirt, two homes side by side.

only you and I will know that I’m just sprawled in your bed, reading books and feeding myself profiteroles and making love to you endlessly until we both expire in a haze of chocolate sauce. It’s how I’d want to go.

I love you terribly, and I want you back here soon. I need your help picking a new bed for my room; I’ve decided to get rid of that gold monstrosity.

Have you ever had something go so horribly, horribly, unbelievably badly that you’d like to be loaded into a cannon and jettisoned into the merciless black maw of outer space?

Here lies Prince Henry of Wales. He died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock.

He asked why I was so intent on disrespecting the traditions of the men of this family, and I truly think I dissociated straight (ha) out of the conversation, because I opened my blasted mouth and said, “Because I’m not like the rest of the men of this family, beginning with the fact that I am very deeply gay, Philip.”

I don’t know. I’ve eaten a tremendous amount of Jaffa Cakes about it, to be frank.

Just leaving. Not coming back. Maybe burning something down on the way out. It would be nice.

But the first time I saw you. Rio. I took that down to the gardens. I pressed it into the leaves of a silver maple and recited it to the Waterloo Vase. It didn’t fit in any rooms.

I thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire.

And then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. Can you believe it?

1. The sound of your laugh when I piss you off.

That thing you do where you stick out your chin to try to look tough.

Your huge, generous, ridiculous, indestructible heart. 17. Your equally huge dick.

God, I want to fight everyone who’s ever hurt you, but it was me too, wasn’t it? All that time. I’m so sorry.

Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable.

Her face is taken over with a horrified gasp. “Oh, fuck my ass.”

It’s the worst he’s ever seen him, worse than a violent fit or the verge of tears. He looks hollowed-out, vacant.