Page 114 of The Frog Prince
But it hurt to see. And it hurt to accept. He’d never be himself again.
Otto stood up and pulled him to his feet, walking slowly backward, never breaking eye contact with Alwin, never letting go of his hand.
Alwin allowed himself to be led, trusting Otto with everything he was.
They reached the edge of the caved-in wall, and he could hear the water of his pond sloshing softly. The familiar sound echoed in Alwin’s head.
Would it be so bad?
Would it be that horrible if nothing had changed? If he were still the Frog Prince, but now with his love by his side? He could learn to be happy, he thought. He could make peace with being the monster if he was loved.
Otto’s sunshine would chase Alwin’s shadows away.
Otto led him to the edge of the water and knelt down, pulling Alwin in front of him to face the water.
“You can look,” he said and Alwin glanced down at the dark surface of the pond, curiosity and terror battling for control of his body.
He gripped the edge of the wall with his long fingers and rocked back and forth, seeing the top of his head reflected in the water.
Messy black hair, thick and glossy and achingly familiar.
He gasped and pushed himself farther forward. His forehead came into view, pale pink, smooth and so human he nearly choked.
A pair of thick eyebrows appeared next. Then two emerald-green eyes. Close together, more sunken than he had seen them in close to a decade. Not bulging, but surrounded by a fan of dark lashes.
Prince Adalwin’s famous green eyes.
He choked on a sob, and in a rush of bravery he leaned over the pond to look at his entire face.
He shouldn’t have.
He should have taken it slowly.
Because as human as the upper part of his face was, the Frog Prince was still there. In the pale green marks along the sides of his nose and the apples of his cheeks. His lips were human again, full and narrow and chapped from years of being stretched into a frog-like grimace. He had ears again, but the human pink of his cheeks bled into the green of the shell of his ear, spreading down over his neck, chest, and arms.
He had a human build again. His chest was narrower, rib cage feeling stronger. His arms were wider, muscles back where they were supposed to be, wrapping around fragile bones and stretching out his skin.
So much of his old self was back. And so much was lost forever.
He felt a dark cloud settle over him as he tried to wrap his head around this. His hands gripped the edge of the wall so hard he felt the cracks in his bones. He was shaking, he knew. He could feel it.
“I suppose this is as good as it will get,” he choked out. He knew he was supposed to be grateful, but it felt so unfair. He had lost so much.
He felt movement behind him and then another head appeared in the reflection next to his own.
Golden hair against pitch black. Sunshine against midnight.
“Hard to be better than perfect,” Otto whispered, placing a tiny kiss on the shell of Alwin’s ear, slowly, so he could watch him do it in the rippling water.
The cloud scattered, the self-doubt ebbing gently.
“Is it really enough?” Alwin asked.
Otto smiled. “It is if you think it is. I, for one, love getting to keep the parts of you I fell for.”
He took Alwin’s hand in his, twined their fingers together, and squeezed gently.
“These hands feel perfect when they hold mine,” he said, and Alwin squeezed back. Otto’s other hand traveled over Alwin’s arm and shoulder to settle between his shoulder blades. Alwin knew he was tracing the marks along his spine. “I hope these keep letting me know you want me as much as I want you.”
