Fi's laugh was a little more wry than he'd intended, but he softened it with a weary, worn down sort of smile. He wouldn't pretend like he didn't pick up on the way Mordecai looked to him—spoke to him—but he was too proud to let himself feel hurt by it. "I noticed." He forced his lips into something like a smile, beating back the grim mood that had settled over him. "But it is as you said. He has his reasons for not liking me, I cannot fault him for that. I can only hope that he sees me for who I am, the way you were so quick to do." They made their way briskly down the hall, tired and wind whipped. Fiori, for his part, was eager to get back to the rooms he couldn't quite call his own yet and ensure that Johan hadn't made too much of a mess.
Levi solemnly nodded. Otherwise, he didn’t verbally give any other response. He hoped Mordecai would see Fi as he was too, and in good time as well. He couldn’t stand two of his closest confidants despising each other. Eventually they made it through the ornate halls, past the oh-so familiar tapestries Levi had grown up with. And finally back to what was meant to be the second-born prince’s rooms. “I’ll see you in the morning, my friend. Well, wherever our paths cross tomorrow.” He deliberately lowered his voice in case Johan had fallen asleep inside. “Here’s hoping my brother is too far gone in sleep to give you any more trouble tonight.”
Fiori wouldn't mind a little trouble, if it would take his mind off of the things he was all to quickly beginning to dwell on. Fighting with Johan was easy, in a strange way. Johan snapped at him and Fiori was soft in return and then they went back and fourth until something snapped in one of them and they either yelled or fell silent. Predictable, maybe, and distracting enough that he didn't have to meditate on how people saw him here. "I look forward to it, my friend." He did his best to be bright when he gave Levi a parting smile, nudging him further down the hall. "Though I doubt we'll be so fortunate as to have a proper meeting. I need to juggle meeting Mikhail and keeping Johan in check, and you are taking your personal time, away from all the messiness of this place."
Levi faced him even as he was nudged farther towards his bedroom. He didn’t want to end their conversation. Didn’t want to leave his friend alone to deal with a whole day of prejudice on his own. Though it was late, and he looked forward to falling asleep with Mordecai in his arms, it was only him and Fiori that came close to understanding each other’s situations. “I know, I know,” he rolled his eyes, mostly playfully. “I will be, I swear it.” Eventually he backed into his room door, catching himself with his hand on the doorknob. “Goodnight, to you. And… if he’s awake tell Johan goodnight for me too.”
Fi laughed as he watched Levi inch his way down the hall, watching him with a fond smile. "You had better!" he called in return, and then his smile was going a little softer than before. He hadn't expected Levi to bring up Johan, especially not in as pleasant a context as this, but it was nice to see him do it. "Goodnight, my friend. Rest well, and perhaps I will see you in the morning." His good mood didn't fade as he slipped into him room, it glowed like embers in his chest, still warming him even as he surveyed his surroundings for whatever damage Johan had caused.
Like the embers in his chest, the fireplace still sheltered a faint smolder beneath the logs. The room seemed to be in pristine enough condition. All the blankets were on the bed, and walls free of any blade punctures or fist holes. Without light from the fireplace, the space was bathed in just the soft glow of the lanterns mounted on each wall, and a candle on the bedside table illuminating Johan in the place Fi left him. Now turned onto his shoulder, hugging a pillow from Fi’s side of the bed against his chest. With his back to the door, it was difficult to tell whether he was asleep or just uncharacteristically peaceful.
Fi relaxed when he say Johan lying there, quiet and unmoved. He'd been half convinced he'd find him armed somehow, forming makeshift knives from broken glass and ripped bed sheets. It was fanciful, he realized that now, but he'd expected to be surprised in a much less pleasant way. He crept quietly to the bedside, sitting lightly so as not to disturb Johan while he pulled off his boots. "Are you awake, Johannan?" He didn't turn when he asked, for he didn't really expect and answer. Of Johan was this still and this quiet Fi was going to assume he had drifted off. "If you aren't, I'm sorry to disturb you."
If Johan had felt better he might have spent his time making weapons or escape materials. He might have even attempted to punch through the glass and climb out through his bedroom window. Even just anxiously pacing the room seemed more characteristic. That would come later as his wounds healed. He groaned in response to Fiori’s question, drifting somewhere between asleep and awake. “‘s fine.” His eyes opened into thin slits, too tired to even turn his head towards the source. Not that he wanted to interact with Fiori much anyway. He closed his eyes again, falling back into sleep.
Fi hummed quietly in response and slipped off the bed. He changed in the bathroom, though he doubted Johan would appreciate the privacy very much when he was so close to drifting off, and then slipped quietly into the bed, leaving as much space between them as he could. "I'm surprised," he said, because he needed to talk. It was rude, keeping Johan up, but it was clear they weren't going to fight tonight and he needed something to distract himself with. The worry and relief had passed and now there was only the quiet sound of Johan breathing next to him and the thoughts he desperately wanted to keep from dwelling on. "You didn't make a mess."
Johan let out a huff of annoyance through his lips when he woke up again. Lifting his eyelids open to glare at the man beside him. But he didn’t start an argument. “No. I di’n’t. Were you hoping I would?” He tensed—clutching the pillow tighter to his chest as he heaved out a breathy cough. Eirlys had said coughing with injured ribs was completely normal, and best not to hold them in lest he develop an infection. They seemed to vex him, nonetheless, and kept him on the cusp of sleep and awake no worse than Fi’s insistence for conversation.
Fi glanced over with an apologetic smile already on his lips. He didn't know what he had been hoping for, but it was certainly something other than this. The silence drifted a little too long before he answered. "No, I don't think so." Johan slurred his words when he was tired, he'd hadn't realized that before. He hadn't realized a lot of things, it seemed. For all his love of the spitfire prince, he knew very little about him. "I expected you to have more fire, but… I think I'm glad you do not. You would hurt yourself, ruining our room."
Johan groaned again, akin to a growl. “My room.” He woke up just slightly more than he was seconds earlier. Fueled by perturbation, though not enough to do much more than glare and add some emphasis in his tone. “Damn you, I have fire. I jis’ tuh-ah…” And just as quickly as the anger came, he flickered out, wincing. Shutting his eyes tightly to avoid the embarrassment of proving Fiori’s point. And the frustration building in his chest threatening to escape as tears for the second time that night. He wanted to turn over onto his other shoulder, avoid facing Fi altogether. “Jis’ shut up ‘nd let me sleep.” He groped around for the blanket hem, and when he found it, pulled it like a curtain over his head.
Fi glanced over at him when he winced and then away again once he was sure Johan hadn't managed to tear himself open or break his ribs. "Our room… everything is ours now, technically." It was poking the bear, he knew that, he just didn't care right now. Johan would yell at him and it would make all the other things bouncing around his head quiet, and he could apologize for being an ass later. "And you would be asleep already, if you could. It's late. You're tired. You've been coughing yourself awake, haven't you? Or sleeping on your side and aggravating the bruises."
Johan was quiet those first few moments. Doing his best to ignore Fi, hiding from those words under the blanket. Clenching his fists while simultaneously trying to relax. He couldn’t fall back asleep, though, not with more anger boiling higher and higher until he couldn’t stand it without rebutting. The blanket came off again. “So says my excuse-for-a-brother. It’s my room, ‘nd I say that it is. Not him.” His expression puckered at the mention of his coughing. The sleeping on his side. It was the only way he felt he could sleep easily, and the comment clearly hit a nerve. “What do you care?” he snapped, “I know the only reason you’re watching me is ‘cause my brother. Mind your own damn business. ‘nd shut up.”
He felt like he was underwater, almost. Johan's words rushed over him and separated him neatly from everything else in the world. It was strange to feel so distant from himself but it seemed like most of his life here would be made up of strange feelings. He'd cried in a hallway, cried and couldn't stop himself, and compared to that this numbness was nearly a blessing. "Your brother said to tell you goodnight," he said, because he couldn't think of anything else. He didn't know why he cared and he didn't know why he watched so attentively, he just did. There were no words to describe it. "I'm tired too, you know. It isn't easy for me to be here."
The fact that his brother wanted to say goodnight had him floundering. Not for long, just enough to sort through the thought in his mind and brush it aside as inconsequential. It didn’t mean anything. It just paused his anger and replaced it with confusion for a second or two, then he was right back to hostility. Unaware or not caring that Fiori’s mood had changed at all. “I bet you are tired. It takes a lot of energy being pet and preened by my brother, huh? Treated like you’re just like a part of the family. I wouldn’t know.” He pushed himself up by his elbows, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Fingers digging into the mattress. He needed to get up, escape into isolation somehow, maybe into the bathroom.
Fi reached over when Johan started to shift, hand settling on the center of his chest to push him down again. "Stop that." He didn't know what that was, the sarcasm or the movement, but it didn't much matter. The reaction would be the same. He glanced over when he was sure he was holding Johan down and it was then that he remembered to be mindful. It was his lower ribs that were broken but that didn't mean the pressure higher on his chest didn't hurt. "Stop hurting yourself. The only thing being preened is your ego. I don't see Leviticus very often, I see you—you and Mordeai and every other person who looks at me like I'm some creature. So yes, Johannan, I am tired. You of all people should understand that."
Johan couldn’t help a whimper at the pressure on his chest. It didn’t hurt as terribly as it might his hand was lower, but he still wanted to leave more than anything. He grabbed at Fi’s arm. His frustration dug into skin rather than the bedsheets. “Damn it, let me go.” He didn’t care about Fiori’s experience, at least not outwardly, and not in the moment. And he knew on some level that insensitivity made him selfishly cruel. Unforgivably so to completely disregard anyone else or their pain. Too caught up in his own. “I just want to sleep, Fiori, not listen to your sob story.”
Fi lightened his grip but didn't loosen it, uncaring of the way Johan's nails big into his skin. It hurt but then again he was hurting Johan, fair was fair. This was what he had wanted anyways, they were fighting and Johan was yelling and everything was normal enough and loud enough that he didn't have to care about anything else. "No, you're going to hurt yourself. You can't walk, Johannan, you can barely cough. Just lie still for once in your life and pretend like you care about something other than yourself."
“I’m not going to hurt myself!” Johan had his voice raised now, seething, and completely unrestrained. His chest heaved up and down in shallow breaths. Painfully, most likely. “And I can walk. You insist on carrying me around like some little pet—and-and not the mention that stupid collar!” He hadn’t been forced to wear it, of course, but it still struck a nerve nonetheless. Everything struck a nerve. “I couldn’t give a shit about any of this even if I tried. Not you, not my brother, not…not even this stupid palace.” He kicked his legs out. Flailing, still attempting to wriggle out of his hold. “I’m done trying.”
“Enough,” Leviticus swung open the bedroom door, Mordecai standing behind him still in his bedclothes. The advisor’s expression was placed somewhere between concern and sternness.
Fi pushed himself up on an elbow so he could grab Johan by the arms and keep him down, but he was kicking and yelling and it was all too much, suddenly. Normally he would've found some way to talk Johan down. Normally the words would come easily, and he could explain that he carried Johan because he cared and he hated to see him wince the way he did when he forgot how to place his weight without it aching and most of all that he deserved to be cared for. Unfortunately, normal was very far away, and he found himself staring up at Levi and Mordecai, face a mess of weariness and surprise.
Johan stopped fighting. He swung his glare towards his brother and Mordecai, then to just his brother making his way towards the bed.
“What is going on here?” Leviticus snapped, though he already knew the answer. At least the important part. His eyebrows pushed as close together as they could get, his face tinged with red—just barely visible in the candlelight. All directed at Johan, who seeing his brother’s expression, began to shrink. “Don’t answer that. I’m done listening to all your childish drama, Johannan, especially when it’s directed at my friend.”
Johan’s lip twitched at a feeling developing at the base of his throat. Traveling down into the pit of his stomach. He swallowed, trying to push it down even further. While it was a familiar feeling, it hurt nonetheless when it showed up.
Fiori forced himself to sit up properly which, as a happy consequence, kept Johan out of Levi's line of sight. He schooled his expression into something unaffected and looked Levi in the eyes before he spoke, aiming to draw some of his ire away from his brother. "Don't be upset with him, Leviticus. It's my fault." The distant, under water feeling was beginning to slip away, leaving him only with a cold pit of guilt in his stomach. He knew better than this and yet he had lashed out like a child, blind to anything but himself. "You don't need to look at him like that."
Levi softened when he turned to Fiori, the majority of his anger melting from his face. Just tired. They were all too tired. “No. I’m not mad at you, and I’m not going to be.” He knew his friend had gone through enough. On top of everything else, Levi didn’t want to be a source of pain to him. “I don’t care how it started, Johan has no excuse to talk to you like that.”
As soon as Fiori was off of him, Johan took the opportunity to slip out of bed, holding the pillow to his chest still and disappearing into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him, which Levi barely gave a glance to.
"You should." He reached for Levi, taking the prince's hands in his. Normally he would never be so bold, especially not with a near stranger watching, but he needed the comfort and Levi was the only person who knew him well enough to provide it. He ached, in his heart and in his stomach. In every place he'd been holding too tense since they got here and he'd decided to push his grief away. "I provoked him, I…" He glanced down, giving Levi's hands a soft squeeze. "I was looking for a fight. It isn't his fault for giving me one."
