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"Mueller, have you ever had a girlfriend?" The question came absolutely out of nowhere as the two of them were taking tea after a long morning of work. Mueller nearly spit his mouthful of Earl Grey out onto his biscuits.
"Why the hell are you asking?" He scowled at the prince, somehow managing to swallow his tea normally before he spoke.
"It's just strange, is all," Olivert said casually, closing his eyes and waving a hand. "You're the Vander heir, aren't you? And you're so handsome," he continued with a dramatic sigh. "One would think that you would have no shortage of potential lovers to choose from."
He was really asking him this to his face? Mueller had hoped desperately that his conversation with Neithardt would have shut this line of questioning down, but apparently the prince's unwarranted curiosity was not yet sated.
"...Like Neithardt told you, I don't exactly have the free time to maintain that kind of relationship," he said, setting his teacup down on his saucer with a clink. "A certain somebody makes sure of that."
Olivert paled, freezing midway through bringing his cup back up to his lips and splashing a few drops of dark tea onto his white cravat. "A... Ah. He told you about our conversation, then..."
"Of course he did, he's my friend," Mueller snapped, rolling his eyes. "What did you expect?" He sighed, and the prince looked at him sheepishly. "I really don't appreciate you snooping around and asking uncomfortable questions about my personal life, especially to people who don't deserve to be involved in any of your nonsense."
"I'm sorry," Olivert groaned, setting his cup down.
Mueller sighed, taking another sip. "You're still not going to drop this though, are you?"
"I'm just concerned! You're nearly thirty and I don't think you've ever even fallen in love! As your closest friend it is my duty to make sure you are finding the happiness in life you deserve," he said, leaning in across the table and touching his fingers to Mueller's hand, which was still curled around the handle of his teacup.
Mueller looked up, frowning. The prince really did seem genuinely concerned for him, which was discomforting. This paired with the casual intimate contact made him drop his guard just a little bit, his feelings a little bit more difficult to fully repress. "Of course I've fallen in love," he grumbled, pulling his hand away and his cup back up to his lips. Olivert stared at him wide-eyed as he finished his cup, then set it back down. Oh Aidios, I shouldn't have said that. "W... What?"
"Mueller!" he cried out, an insistent exclamation. "You open your beautiful secret heart to love and yet don't tell me, your dearest companion? I want to hear every detail! Who is it?"
Yep, this was a mistake. Mueller covered his face with his palm, groaning. "It was a long time ago, Olivier. There's nothing really to tell."
This did not seem to satisfy the prince's curiosity at all. Instead his eyes seemed to brighten even, twinkling with devious interest. "Nonsense! There is plenty to tell. What were they like? Why did you love them? How were you torn apart, left to drift loveless in the wind, despondent and alone?" He clutched a hand to his chest dramatically to accent his theatrical delivery, of course.
"I'm not answering any of that," Mueller said, standing, still mentally kicking himself for his slip-up.
"Oh come on, just tell me something," Olivert whined, rising along with him. "Were they exquisitely beautiful? Dashingly handsome? Were you tragically separated by insurmountable boundaries of social class?"
"Do you think my life is some kind of cheap romance novel?"
"It could be, for all you're telling me about it!"
Mueller sighed. He was definitely starting to get a headache, but he knew he would only be digging himself a deeper hole of unending migraines if he didn't at least tell Olivier something somewhat satisfying. He sat back down hesitantly. Olivert's eyebrows jumped up and he sat with him, smiling and rapt with anticipation.
"...Love is a pain in the ass," he said finally, picking up a biscuit and beginning to slice it with a knife. "Like I said, it was a long time ago. Yes, they were beautiful, but that wasn't it. In the end though, our circumstances were just too complicated, and it didn't work." He grabbed a spoonful of lemon curd and stared flatly at the prince, who looked nearly on the verge of tears. "That's all you're getting. I don't want to talk about this."
"Oh Mueller," Olivert worried, face full of pitying sympathy. "I'm so sorry."
Mueller looked down at his biscuit, spreading the lemon curd on one half, trying to keep his cool. This conversation had taken a turn for the bizarre. "It's fine."
"Was it still worth it in the end," the prince asked delicately, "to have loved them at all?"
The brunette breathed in, not realizing he had been holding his breath. "Yes," he said quietly, then picked up his biscuit and took a bite.
Olivert smiled hopefully at him, eyes filled with understanding. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "I really shouldn't have pried."
Mueller looked up, nodding and swallowing his food. "It's fine," he said again, and Olivert's expression changed curiously. "Just don't do it again. There's a reason people don't like it when you meddle," he continued, standing and taking the biscuit with him.
The prince relaxed, drooping his shoulders guiltily. "I understand," he said with a sigh, staring at his half-eaten mini quiche.
"I'm going to get the forms you'll be going over this afternoon. You'd better not be missing when I get back," Mueller warned, then popped the rest of the biscuit into his mouth and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Olivier slumped onto the table, pushing his plate forward. This was so sad. A huge relief that at least Mueller had been attracted to somebody at some point, but for his only experience of love to be so bittersweet and tragic... ah, his heart ached for him. If only Mueller would let him in and allow him to heal his wounded heart and show him an undying love...
He stared into his half-full teacup, contemplating this person Mueller had once loved. Had they been kind to him? Mueller was so giving and loyal and patient -- he deserved the best the world could offer. A better man than Olivier himself was now, he thought, rising back up. If he wanted to tell him how he felt someday, he would need to become that man.
He poured himself another cup of tea, drinking it quickly, feeling the subtle rush of caffeine pick him gently out of his melancholy. Well, there was no time like the present. Time to get back to work.