a raised eyebrow.
“This one is a tutor.” Jacki grinned mischievously. “Philosophy, I think.”
“But he's not one of mine,” Yuri hastened to add. “He's out of All Saints.”
“Oh,” Angelo said. Again, he wasn't sure what his line was. He stood. “Well. I guess I'll be seeing you around.”
“Sure,” Jacki said.
“Maybe,” Yuri added.
Angelo went back to his room at the college and tried to study his economics notes but failed. All he could think about was Yuri being fucked by some much older guy and it left a horrible, sour taste in his mouth.
That night it took him several hours to fall asleep.
Angelo didn't see Yuri again around Oxford for several months. He almost broke down and asked Philippe, but that would've been as bad as asking Jacki. Still, it wasn't unheard of for him and Yuri to go long periods without seeing each other, but he'd been shocked to find that when he went to Mirea for Christmas that year, Yuri was conspicuously absent. Feeling completely at loose ends, Angelo left to go to Tanzhir. His parents were off on some sort of diplomatic trip, so Angelo spent his holiday reading, walking through the gardens alone, bickering with his sister, exercising, and deliberately not texting Yuri.
It had been, overall, a thoroughly shitty holiday.
When Angelo finally saw Yuri, his Yuri, he was holding hands with an older man as they walked along the river. Some devil, likely prompted by the memory of Rebecca Yardley, made Angelo jog over to the pair. The older man was handsome, with soft brown hair and strong, regular features. He looked to be possibly in his thirties, but it was hard to tell. He wore a very good suit. Not new, but bespoke and well cared for. Yuri wore a white button-down and gray slacks, his honey-colored hair longer than Angelo had ever seen it and hanging artistically in front of the left side of his face. His mouth didn't betray any emotion and Angelo couldn't see his eyes because they were hidden in a shadow cast by the older man’s much larger form.
“Hi,” Angelo said, something making his skin prickle. Maybe it was the possessive grip the man had on Yuri's hand. “Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“No,” Yuri said, then flinched slightly.
“Manners, pet,” the man said. Looking Angelo up and down he added, “I'm Blackheath.” At Angelo's blank stare, he added, “the Duke of Arrington’s heir. Not that the old man is planning on dying any time soon, naturally. So, for now, the courtesy title.” He smiled charmingly.
Angelo, for some reason, felt the need to punch him in the face, but he smiled back. “New boyfriend, Yuri? I thought you were dating a tutor.” He addressed Yuri but didn’t take his eyes off Blackheath, which was an extremely ridiculous name.
Yuri seemed to agree because he said, “Francis is a philosophy tutor at All Saints and we are together, yes.”
“I see.” Angelo held out his hand to shake, necessitating that Francis let go of Yuri’s hand. “I’m Angelo Devdan Nicolau Laurent Tanzhir.” He smiled toothily back at the man. “But you can call me Prince Angelo. Or your highness. Either will do.”
Angelo glanced at Yuri, hoping to find him furious, but saw instead that he had gone a strange, pasty white. “He’s a childhood friend, Francis,” Yuri said both quickly and quietly.
“Is he?” Francis gripped Angelo’s hand harder than necessary and shook it. “I’m honored to meet you, your highness,” he said smoothly.
“Likewise,” Angelo said. “I hope you’re treating my boy well.”
The older man’s face froze. “Your boy?” The question was sharp and icy.
“My betrothed. I’m surprised Yuri didn’t tell you. We’ve been betrothed forever. So technically, yes, he’s my boy.” Angelo’s smile widened. “I can live with you borrowing him, but I will expect him returned in excellent condition. I’m sure you understand.”
“I’m sure I don’t have any idea what you mean,” Francis said, both his tone and his eyes icy as fuck. “Come, Euripides. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be late.”
And without as much as a backward glance, Yuri walked away from Angelo.
Angelo knew he should leave well-enough alone, but he couldn’t. What he’d said to Lord Dickface had been true: Yuri was his boy. Never mind that Angelo wasn’t into dick or dudes or any of that. Yuri was his, and Angelo took his responsibilities seriously. It was part of being a royal prince.
As a consequence, he spent all his spare time skulking around St Johns, hoping to catch sight