When Rhy takes his hand, Wilhelm follows as easily as water carried by a current. He doesn't care about cutting their dance short. It's a different kind of intimacy, abandoning the party together to find a quiet corner, being an open ear and shoulder for him. Following Rhy's example, he snatches up a glass of wine from the same tray. If not for Rhy's heavy mood, he would be levitating — beyond the effect of the alcohol. But that's the thing about hanging your heart on someone. You carry a part of what they feel with you.

At the far end of the ballroom, they find an empty balcony through the open crystalline doors. The night air rests coolly on their skin. Corralling himself against the balustrade, Wilhelm holds his glass up to Rhy.

"Cheers," he says soberly before tipping back the first sip. Then, he'll wait for Rhy to release whatever is on his mind.