a Lout and a Prince

Part 10

Cale had to have imagined the disappointment that flickered on Ron's face at his change in decision. It wasn't like Ron had wanted to tell the prince to fuck off, right?

Well, that didn't really matter. What mattered was the brightly smiling and impossibly handsome bastard who came into the room looking the same as he always did. Alberu Crossman's bright refreshing smile and gentle face didn't offer Cale any comfort whatsoever though.

'I can't tell.'

Alberu was the same as he looked in public during every stupid event or speech and really the majority of the time Cale had known him.

...well, not including the evening on the balcony. Just that time, he'd seen a slightly different side to the prince. But that was years ago and it hardly mattered now.

It didn't help him to crack the code that would enable to find out if he bit the crown prince.

And the way Alberu took over a room definitely wasn't helping.

The crown prince swept into the room, his smile morphing to one of perfect concern as he approached Cale's bed. "I'm so relieved that you were able to return home safely, young master Cale." Alberu spoke, glib tongue at work to ooze out meaningless words that sounded good to the listener. "I was so worried after learning about your capture! Is there anything I can do to make up for my oversight?"

Blah, blah, blah.

Cale felt a bit of the tension in his heart dim.

The Alberu who'd made his heart flutter certainly behaved like this. He was a politician first and foremost. He'd treated Cale like this as well.

Maybe it was because he'd allowed himself to get a bit delirious about his position, but Cale had felt that there was something slightly different about how Alberu handled him. Something in the way he listened or talked or just looked at him–it was a really stupid thought that had been brought upon from too many years romanticizing a single evening.

The Alberu in front of him proved that was all in his head. Everything about him, his attitude, his speech, his over the top cheer and concern–it all drew a line between them. The same line Alberu Crossman drew for everyone.

It wasn't that Cale was an expert in the Crown Prince's behavior. He was just good at reading people and, well, just maybe he'd spent a bit of time observing Alberu's interactions from afar during the two pathetically short times he'd been in the same space as him.

It really felt pathetic when he lined it all up like that.

It was a stupid crush, he'd known that from the beginning, but it really had bloomed from almost nothing and persisted despite having absolutely no fertile earth to grow in.

Cale hardened his own disposition. He was trash. He'd just use this as a good opportunity to make an even poorer impression on the prince and then he'd never be sent to the damn capital ever again and then he'd never have another reason to get his hopes up by spending just even one stupid moment thinking that he was special.

He sneered at the prince, surrendering the disposition of a recovering patient to hop out of bed and head towards the liquor cupboard. "Thanks for your concern, highness." Cale called out flippantly, sarcasm dripping in his words. "Good of you to take responsibility since it's your damn fault." He took a swig from a bottle, still not daring to look back towards the future son of the Roan Kingdom.

"...ah, yes. We'll be compensating the Henituse family appropriately for this oversight." Alberu's enthusiastic voice stilted with the familiar stilt of a person being exposed directly to Cale's thuggish behavior. Cale smirked bitterly to himself.

That's right.

He'd let himself get drunk on the drama and excitement and for just a moment he'd forgotten that this was his primary goal from the start. Make a fool of himself, get sent home, pave the way for Basen's future.

"Good, now if you're fucking done how about you beat it?" He swayed, just enough to look convincingly drunk. "I'm busy."

He wasn't expecting the gentle hold on his shoulders.

Cale's eyes widened, his entire body freezing over.

Alberu's gentle voice reached his ears and in the same way he'd gently escorted him from the event, he was being guided back to bed. "You're still recovering, young master Cale." Alberu chastised and Cale realized that he was once again absolutely helpless to do or say anything when Alberu touched him. He even let the wine bottle get pried from his hands as he was brought back to sitting on the bed. "You shouldn't exert yourself."

And there it was.

Cale's eyes flickered despite himself to meet Alberu's and there was that lingering look that he'd swear meant something. That made him feel important and fuzzy inside and absolutely drawn into the moment.

He was letting himself get fooled all over again. Fooling himself into thinking this moment meant anything at all.

He shouldn't have done his drunken sway. That was the only reason Alberu was doing this. He was just being a 'responsible prince' and insisting the recovering victim rest properly.

That's all there was to it.

Why did it have to feel like Alberu's hand lingered on him just a moment too long? Like the world slowed down as he saw that look in Alberu's eyes? Why was he feeling like he was a stupid brat again, kicking his blankets with a muffled scream into his pillow as he couldn't help but think about his ridiculous crush?

And in a moment that was far too quick, Alberu's expression closed off again. A bright political smile as he gently urged Cale to lie back down and returned the alcohol to the shelf.

"It's good to see you're doing so well." Alberu said with all the cheer that indicated that he was sincerely grateful. It still felt political and fake. "I won't hamper your recovery anymore, young master Cale. Please rest well."

Cale could do nothing but wordlessly accept it as the crown prince swept away from the room with the same authority as he swept in.

Cale stared blankly at his ceiling.

Had he imagined it?

That lingering moment? Was it just a product of his wishful thinking from his pathetic crush?

Or was he misreading the flickers in Alberu's emotions? Maybe his composure had cracked but it was just a simple concern for another human being?

Cale frowned, wanting to seek out that bottle of wine all over again to drown all these useless thoughts away even though he knew that would be an entirely futile effort.

"...bastard means to drive me fucking crazy." Cale muttered miserably and turned over in bed, trying in vain to calm his fluttering heart.

He really was weak to that bastard.

And he still had no idea if he'd bitten him or not! Probably not, right? He would have looked more awkward, right?

Right?