Fiori swallowed, blinking down at his hands for a few seconds before he could bring himself to look at Johan. He could not cry. Even though He felt Cadmus' loss like a physical thing he could not cry because if Johan knew he was weak he would never back down and then Fiori couldn't help Levi. "Yes?" He was still rubbing his hands together, feeling scar and skin and no blood. No blood at all.
(I feel so bad for Fiori)
Johan studied his expression through squinted, curious eyes. He uncurled his hands from his stomach and braved them on the mattress to inch carefully away from Fiori. “What are you doing with your hands?” He itched to be able to get out of bed already. He rarely slept beside anyone, most nights preferring to have the bed to himself. Being in bed beside a foreigner, who was supposed to be his master, especially put him off. But he knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it now, not when he could barely stand on his own.
(yeah, my poor bby needs some hugs)
Fi's gaze flicked from his hands to Johan's face and back again and he slowly let them come to a stop. No blood. He could see that now. There had never been any at all, had there? "Nothing." He squinted towards the window, watching the sun claw itself up over the horizon. It couldn't be later than six. Even so, he clambered out of bed, wiping his hands off on his pants just to be sure before he tucked the covers back around Johan. "It is barely dawn. Go back to sleep."
(He deserves all the hugs)
“What are you talking about?” Johan huffed, pushing away the blankets he had just been tucked into. “I always get up this early to train.” Granted, he knew he wouldn’t be able to train with his injuries for quite some time. He slid one leg off of the bed, and then the other. What proved most difficult was the stiffness in his joints and torso. Johan grimaced as he attempted to push himself up to sit.
(thank you for your pity)
"Johan." It wasn't a plea, but it was close. Fi tucked him in more firmly, sliding his legs back under the covers as smoothly as he could and pushing down on Johan's chest until he buckled and lied back down. "No." Fi would've preferred it if he could keep Johan in bed all day, still and safe and not aggravating his ribs, but he already knew that would be impossible. The best he could do was stall. "Get your rest. You need it to heal."
(yw)
After attempting to struggle out of Fiori’s restraints, Johan finally let out another sigh and begrudgingly fell back in the bed. He curled his lip in frustration, glaring down at Fiori’s hand. “The only way you can keep me in bed—in this room—is to tie me.” And even then he would do all he could to yank his hands out of the ropes. He supposed he did need to heal if he ever wanted to fight again, but he would rather take care of himself on his own terms.
Fi managed a snort, keeping his hand firm on Johan's chest. "You are uncreative in the extreme, prince." He wished he could just trust Johan to take care of himself but no. That would be too easy for someone as proud as him, someone as eager to start a fight. Fi wished he didn't see so much of himself in Johan. "There are many ways for me to keep you down, chief among them asking politely. I do not want you hurting yourself. Why is that so hard to accept?"
“Because I don’t want to be trapped in my rooms with an Usigen like yourself,” Johan snapped, “Let alone be under the hand of one.” He pressed his hand against Fiori’s arm in an attempt to dislodge it off his chest. “Get the hell off of me.” His eyes were much brighter than they were last night, more willing to put up a fight. Even bedridden, his spitfire personality seemed to be returning.
Fi pushed down harder. He didn't have the energy to fight today. He didn't have the energy to do anything at all really, but he had obligations. This wasn't his home. He couldn't just take a break when he wanted to anymore, he had to push through. He had to keep going. "No. It is my job to take care of you and if that means forcing you to stay in bed long enough to heal then that's just what I will do."
Johan grit his teeth, but relented enough to let his arms fall back to his sides. “You’re going to have to get food for me eventually. And you’ll either have to leave me here alone or take me with you.” He could figure out how to get away from Fiori if they went out into the hallway. He still hurt, but he could manage in desperate times.
Fi patted his chest and let up on Johan, flopping back down on the bed with a sigh. He was going to be a handful today, wasn't he? "Yes." Normally he would speak or threaten or… anything, but he didn't have the energy to way. All he wanted to do was sleep. He wasn't hungry, wasn't worked up, wasn't anything but exhausted, really. "Stop plotting. You'll get hurt."
Johan let out another long breath as he reached up to run a hand through his hair, instantly stopping when he remembered the length of it. He lifted his gaze absently to the ceiling, and then back to the man beside him when his thought from earlier returned. Fiori was different today, only slightly from yesterday, but different nonetheless. “What are you thinking?”
Fi didn't move much once he slumped over onto his back, letting his eyes fall shut. He should be watching Johan. He should be taking care of him. He groaned quietly and draped an arm over his face, doing his best to break away from that train of thought. "Nothing, I just… I want you to go to bed. Can you think about someone other than yourself for once?"
Johan’s expression twisted, contorted into surrender with particular bad grace. He rested his head back onto his pillow, but not without glowering at the ceiling and anything within eyesight. “Not like that’s worked out before,” he muttered under his breath. He hadn’t meant for it to be audible, more like a thought to himself. The longer he stayed awake the more his ribs ached, and stung like claws wrapping around his gut. If it weren’t for that he would have tried to stand again.
Fi didn't so much as glance at him, though he relaxed marginally when Johan didn't immediately get up just to spite him. He snorted at Johan's little remark, mustering up enough energy to toss him a disbelieving look. It was half covered by his arm, but at least he'd managed to move a little. At least he could do this much. The relief was muted, but he could feel that relief and wasn't that something? "Sure."
Johan looked back to him at the snort and replied with a sneer. He raised his head again, and sat up only enough to prop himself up by his elbow. “What exactly do you mean by that? ‘Sure?’ I wasn’t even talking to you anyway.” Just maybe if he grated on Fiori’s nerves enough he would leave the room completely, letting Johan alone to his rooms.
Fi glanced over at him and then sighed, setting his hand lightly on Johan's chest to push him down. He was still careful with Johan, even with his current apathy. "What I mean is that I doubt you have ever cared for a person who was not you and I doubt you ever will. You have all the compassion of a sea sponge, prince." For the first time, the title was sharp and hard, mocking instead of earnest.
Johan didn’t fight this time when he was pushed down, and he stayed down. He winced at the word prince. It hadn’t bothered him until now, now that it was said with sharp mockery. Officially, technically he was no prince in the eyes of Nord Widona. His breath hitched when he tried to speak again, despite trying to stifle it. “You don’t know me, not at all, so don’t say that.” After a moment he added, “Prince.”
Fi winced when he heard that tiny little hitch, a tiny flash of guilt spiking through him before being overwhelmed by the numbness. Johan wore his arrogance like a coat of armor, it was hard to remember that he was mourning too. He'd lost everything last night. Even if he was a horrible person that still had to hurt, it wasn't right to punch down at him with something so petty. "I know you well enough, but… I am sorry. You do not deserve my annoyance, even if you are a pain." There was something almost playful in his voice, almost teasing. Making the effort was hard, but it was worth it.
Johan brought his hands together at his stomach, where he felt a continuous pit since the guards surrounded him in the baths. He rubbed the prince ring indentation on his finger. It was very faded, but still there. Johan offered a small yet genuine smile up to the ceiling. He didn’t need the apology from Fiori, but it felt good to have it. “My brother used to call me that,” he admitted dryly. “Leviticus.”
Fi let out another snort and this one was softer, less derogatory. A laugh that had lost half its willpower somewhere. He still wasn't looking over at Johan, but if he had seen that smile on a better day he would've been absolutely delighted. "What? A pain?" He could see the image clearly in his mind's eye. "You are. Nice sometimes, but difficult always. And somehow it is still so easy to be around you."
“I’m surprised you feel that way. I sold my brother into slavery and yet I’m still ‘nice sometimes’ and ‘easy to be around with.’” He shook his head side to side, focused on the simple motion as if it could help him wrap his mind around the concept. Maybe Fiori wasn’t so unbearable to be around either. He still wasn’t completely convinced. “But if it’s between being forgotten and being remembered for that, I guess I’ll take it.”
"I never said you were not a conniving bastard, it is just… easier to be around you than I had originally anticipated." His hand was still resting on Johan's chest ad he realized, dully, that he could feel the prince's heart beating beneath his fingertips. It was a soothing feeling, steady and sure. "You are very similar to me, but you are also very different. It is… hard to explain in your language. I do not have the words."
“Rovnosiya.” Johan finished for him. “It’s a double meaning word, borrowed from another language I don’t care to remember the name of at the moment. It means both equinox and different yet the same. Two lines meeting at the same point and then continuing on their way in different directions.” He was very aware of Fiori’s hand on his chest. He didn’t particularly like it, but he also didn’t find it irritating enough yet to push him away.
"Rovnosiya," Fi echoed softly, feeling the word on his tongue. His pronunciation was too sharp. He'd never had the tongue for this lighter language, and his accent came out more now when he couldn't be bothered to polish it away., twisting words that should be feather-light into things as heavy as granite. "A good word, but… not entirely correct. Our lines have met already, and yet they meet again here. Do you have a word for the people whose paths you can't stop crossing?"