Bassanio was restless. The young man thought that marrying Portia would make content and calm down his restless soul, but it appeared the contrary. Antonio had left Belmont in haste as if the devil himself was chasing him and the gentleman was very confused why the merchant did so. But Bassanio realized one thing for sure – he could not seem to pass even a single day without longing for the other man.

Every time Portia would smile disarmingly at him, he would be swept off his feet by her charisma but somewhere in the blue orbs of the lady, he would find a tinge of green and that reminded him of his very best friend. So, he was unable to get lost in his wife's eyes like the romantic novels made it seem as his guilty conscience, a small voice in the back of his head would remind him that he wished that it was Antonio in front of him instead of Portia.

Bassanio was utterly bewildered, when he first met the lady of Belmont, he wanted to marry her only because her wealth would help repay his debt and he no longer wished to burden his dear friend with his prodigal ways because he was afraid – he was afraid that Antonio would walk away from him, that he would lose his closest confidant. But when the merchant went away from Belmont, leaving nothing but a mere piece of letter in his wake which said that his business needed attending, Bassanio felt his heart ache in ways more than one. Never had Antonio preferred anything over him and his haste and shady departure worried Bassanio.

The master of the mansion knelt at the chapel, trying to figure out what was wrong with him and that was when he was hit by the crude, harsh, cold truth. He cared for Antonio, and not just as a friend and realized that his feelings for the other man ran deeper than just friendship. To say that he was terrified at his realization would have been the greatest understatement of all times. Bassanio had a freak out there itself – vehemently apologizing to God for having sinned. His lungs burned as he tried to take in huge gulps of air to calm himself down but was failing miserably. His palms curled in on themselves as he tried to ground himself with the pricks of pain form his blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on his palm. When he had finally made peace with himself, Bassanio stood straight – he had two tasks at hand - "CONFESS AND LOVE".

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This is the second part which I wrote after such a long time. I like Tempest too, but The Merchant of Venice is the best.

There nay or may not be a third part featuring Portia and a last addition showing the happy couples and maybe a bit of smut too.

But there is no guarantee when they will be uploaded. But still I will try as I really love the chemistry of Antonio and Bassanio.