Chapter Text
Chaos was unleashing in the not-so quiet of Ava's apartment.
It had been fine a few minutes ago; the 5 Daemos' (and Ava, though she was secretly watching it) were watching "Socky The Sock Puppet", as usual, and they were all silent. Today's lesson was on respect. It was... peaceful, for once. Weirdly comforting - to Rhys, anyway.
And then Leif spoke. It was a petty remark, something to do with deserving respect, but it said the hot-tempered prince off none the less. They had started shouting like they usually do, so Rhys paid no mind to it and just furrowed his brows in concentration, trying to watch the show.
That's when he heard a familiar sound - the whooshing of flames. He snaps his head around (his neck will definitely be sore later) and catches Asch threatening Leif with fire, to which Leif responded with snarl, yanking his daggers out.
Letting out a frustrated groan, he stands up from the sofa, marching over to them both, activating his ice magic, "Both of you, enough!" The threat in his voice and the visibility of his magic causes them both to freeze.
Asch glances at Rhys, looking him up and down for a moment, before tutting and getting rid of his fire, moving his gaze to glare at Leif. Leif also yields, but he smirks at Asch instead. Asch's eye twitches slightly, and Rhys prepares himself to stop Asch from lashing out, but then Asch just turns and... walks away.
It catches everyone off guard but they all brush it off, Leif flauting about his "achievement".
Except Rhys.
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Asch storms through the portal that Rhys made into their little pocket dimension. It wasn't quite like home, but...it was enough. He debates sitting on the throne, but no. It would be too easy for them to see him. He walks over to his room and shuts the door. It looks nothing like his room back at home, which is fair enough. Rhys had barely seen his room, if ever. He couldn't expect him to know the layout of it.
Sighing, he sits on his bed, wincing as his sleeve rubs against what he expects is a burn. Whilst holding his breath, he yanks his shirt off, almost yelping at the pain it brings but not bringing himself to care. He looks at his side where he had accidentally rubbed his fire against during that fight with Leif and- yep. Burned. How great.
He drags a hand over his face and stares off at the wall.
Everytime this happens, he hates it. Obviously, since it's an injury. However, it's less about the pain and moreso the uncomfortable heat it brings in the area of the burn. He's no stranger to heat, but he hates not being able to cool down, even with his magic hidden and not being used.
The door creaks.
He stiffens, not looking at the door.
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"Your Majesty?.."
Rhys cautiously asks. Normally, he would knock when he knew Asch was in a room that was closed off. However, he knew that if he did this time, Asch would just discard his concern, making an excuse. Rhys could never prove that it was a wrong explaination, but he definitely had a feeling.
He takes a tentative step forward, waiting a second before gently closing the door behind him.
"You're excused, Rhys." Asch doesn't look at him when he says it, but Rhys can tell he's trying to dismiss not only him, but his worry.
Rhys' brows furrow. You aren't running away this time, Asch. He stands next to the bed, eye raking over Asch's bare torso. He always knew Asch was strong, all of them were, but seeing it in person feels different. He blinks, taken aback by his own thoughts. Recently, he's become increasingly annoyed by own mind, as these...thoughts, they keep interupting his straight-forward line of thought.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I said you can leave."
Rhys sighs, sitting down on the foot of the bed, whereas Asch is on the side, nearer to the pillows. It's always felt off: being so casual, as in sitting on the prince's bed with no repercussions. It wasn't something Asch had explicitly said he could do, no. It was something that Rhys himself had gathered from the few times he had been in Asch's room on Daemos. Back then, he hadn't even considered it to be informal to be sitting on the prince's bed.
Why was it different now?
Shaking his head to get rid of that annoying question, he speaks - "I'm not leaving until you say what's wrong. I can be just as stubborn as you."
Asch whips around to look at him at that, casting an offended look. However, Rhys doesn't miss the slight wince and twitch of his hand.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"
Rhys could almost laugh, but that would rude... and improper. He simply turns back around, facing the door.
"I don't mean it in a rude way, Asch."
No response.
He doesn't take offence to it, it's common by now.
They sit in silence for a while, until Asch speaks - though it's more of a murmur. "...Burned."
Rhys looks over at Asch, slightly shocked by how quiet his voice is. It's not often he's that quiet. "Hm? What did you say?" He keeps his voice quiet instinctively, mimicking Asch. He's not sure if it's a good idea or not.
Asch sighs, though Rhys can't tell whether it's a frustrated one or a resigned one. "I...burned myself. When I fought with Leif."
Rhys stares for a moment. That's.. not what he was expecting. "..Are you okay?" He asks, trying not to add any pity or sympathy to his voice, because Asch would immediately close up if he did. After no response, Rhys continues with a pause, thinking about what to say. "Do you...perhaps, want me to...help, in some way?"
Asch glares at him, but Rhys doesn't faulter. He's known him for too long to be wary of that glare. While Asch doesn't respond, he does shift himself only slightly so that he's still sitting on the side of the bed, but in the middle.
Rhys takes it as an invitation, one he's hesitant to accept. Why? He's not sure. He needs to get a grip.
He slowly sits behind Asch, now sitting on the middle of the bed. His hands hover in the air, towards Asch's back as if trying to ask a question. After a little bit of silence, he talks, trying to keep any shakiness out of his voice. Why is he so nervous? He doesn't get nervous, especially not around Asch. What's happened? "Where's the burn?"
When Asch moves and leans to his right, Rhys' expression twists into concern. Where- oh. On his side, his hip. It stands out as a flaming hot red against his slightly tanned skin, and looks quite painful. "Does it hurt?"
"What do you think?"
Rhys just...stares. Blankly. Seriously? Honestly, he shouldn't be expecting any less. It's Asch, the prince of Daemos. He's known for his sarcasm. Get it together, Rhys. "I can't heal it, but I can cool it down, if you'd like me to."
Asch just nods slightly, obviously.
Rhys reaches out to Asch's side, forcing himself to just rest his hand there. Since it hasn't been long ago that he used his magic, his skin is still quite cold.
As soon as Rhys' fingers even brush against Asch's bare skin, Asch gasps and flinches away from it instinctively. It's colder than he expected. However, it's a welcome reprieve from the scolding burn. He slowly relaxes into the hand - not fully, however. Never fully.
He leans back slightly, causing Rhys to gently place a hand on the back of Asch, on the middle of his right shoulder blade. Though, he's not sure if he imagined the lean or not. Rhys keeps his hand there to prevent Asch from falling back, if he ends up leaning more. Rhys is honestly quite glad that he's behind Asch at the moment, as his face is strangely hot. Maybe Asch's magic does that? From what he's learnt from Lady Grandma, it doesn't. Ava could have put a spell on him. But why would she?
Thoroughly confused, he doesn't realise that he's slightly moving his thumb on Asch's side in a soothing pattern. He's not sure why he does it, but all he knows is that Asch doesn't move away.
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After about 10 minutes, Rhys inhales. The sound is loud in the calm silence that had settled between them. As if the inhale had snapped Asch out of his settlement, Asch then moves away from the hand, indicating that it's cool enough.
"Is it okay now?" Rhys questions, his voice calm yet oddly quiet. Asch hums with a fake fascade of irritation, nodding.
Rhys hums and removes his hands from Asch, the pang in his heart making it feel like it physically pains him; what is wrong with him? That's his prince. That's it. He quickly stands up from the bed, hoping it doesn't startle Asch.
"I will see you later, Prince Asch." Rhys bows his head slightly and walks to the door, hand on the door handle - until he hears it.
A mumble. A very small one, but unmistakable, "...Thank you."
Rhys' chest suddenly feels constricted, like he can't breathe. He wonders if he's injured, but it wouldn't make sense if he was. His heart pounds against his chest like a battering ram. "I-..." Speak, Rhys. What's wrong with you? Why does your throat suddenly feel constricted??
Asch glances at Rhys, raising an eyebrow at the... is that blush? No, surely not.
"You're welcome." Before Asch can say anything, Rhys whizzes out of the room, slamming the door shut.
Asch blinks at the door for a second - what the hell was that? - He turns his head in periodic movements to look at the wall. He thinks for a moment, trying to figure out why Rhys was acting like...that, before shaking his head. Whatever.
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Rhys rests against the door, his heart racing and his breathing coming out in slightly faster puffs. What just happened. Why was his head...empty? It never is. Usually it's full of ideas, plans, even insults at times, but when Asch has thanked him... it all just left.
How do thoughts leave your head simply by getting a response?
That question was followed by a river of other questions - Why was his heart beating so loud, almost so loud that Rhys could feel it pounding in his throat? Why was there a weird, fluttering feeling in his stomach - the type that makes it feel like your stomach is being poked at by a bundle of feathers? Why, for the love of everything, couldn't he just get it together? And, why did his face feel so hot, almost as if he was-
Oh.
Oh no.
...
"Shit."