✶ CHAPTER 05 - QIBLI ✶

CW: suicidal implications & vomiting

'You're invited!

The wedding of Prince Winter & Princess Lynx. Tomorrow, 4PM.'

The letter sat on the desk in front of him, a simple yet devastating string of words that didn't work with Qibli's brain. He struggled to catch up with the thought of the two royals getting married.

He knew that it was going to happen, but Winter was supposed to marry him. It wasn't right.

A sob caught in his throat and he choked when he tried to push it down. Qibli's eyes clouded with tears. His chest felt heavy as he tried to breathe in to steady himself, overwhelmed with burning jealousy and hurt. 

No, no, this isn't right. This wasn't supposed to happen. Winter loves me. Just me. Winter loves me.

Just. Me.

Right? 

If he loved me, would he be marrying Lynx?

Did he lie to me? Was his confession true? Did I pour my heart out to him for nothing?

His whole body shook violently, trembling as he fought back the bile rising in his throat. His hand, coated in sweat, grasped for the nearest object, which was his desk. He gripped onto the desktop, knuckles white, body shaking. The hot, sour bile in his throat did not leave. It burned in his throat. Qibli reached a hand to the base of his neck, wiping away a pocket of sweat. 

In front of him lay the letter. He stared at it, willing for it to be a hallucination. The memories of Winter pressed in his mind, fresh and familiar. He remembered the exact wild feeling in his gut as Winter had drunkenly slurred out the desperate confession. 

But the letter was still there. Was it real?

Yes, it was real. It was just as real as Qibli's wish that it wasn't.

Qibli swallowed thickly. Emptiness yawned like a hole in his heart. His eyes never left the letter, so much that the words didn't form a comprehensible sentence anymore. Qibli blinked at the letters.

A sob escaped him, and Qibli remembered Winter's voice, confessing his love, tears running down his cheeks. He remembered the way Winter looked at him, as if he were the only thing in the world that mattered. He remembered his own dreams.

And worst of all, he remembered Winter pressing a gentle, sweet kiss to Lynx's lips, and how Qibli wished to be in Lynx's position. He was so sickeningly enamored by the prince.

In his head, Qibli could hear Winter's desperate voice:

"I'm sorry for being in love with you."

And, somewhere else in his mind:

"Please. Make this quick. That's all I ask of you."

The memory hit him like a bullet.

I'm disgusting.

Qibli felt dizzy, and as he rushed to the bathroom, he stumbled. He reached out to grasp the doorframe, drag himself in, and collapse onto the tile floor. Trembling, Qibli held himself over the toilet bowl, and he was soon throwing up. It burned in his throat, coating his lips, dripping down his chin. The stench assaulted his nose.

Qibli shakily stood up after a few minutes of not moving, and flushed down the bile. He moved onto the sink, washing his face and spat out the remnants. 

Hot tears stained his cheeks. He wiped them away, sniffing, and wiped his running nose. Qibli stared blearily at his reflection. Dead, baggy eyes, hunched over the sink, breathing heavily, skin slicked with sweat, hair disheveled. The reflection looked foreign, warped, and cold. The shadows in his eyes sent a chill down his spine. When was the last time he had slept properly? When was the last time he hadn't been in constant stress? Or fear?

Qibli ran a hand over his face, rubbing his temples, and stood up to his full height. He exited the bathroom and climbed into bed. He would not be seeing Winter tonight. Not when he felt like this. This was the part of Qibli that was influenced by his family. This was the part that he embraced when he killed the innocent targets that were assigned to him.

Laying in the bedsheets, Qibli stared up at the ceiling, his mind filling with numbing static.

Hours passed. Qibli had not moved a single muscle, too entranced in thought.

He had a problem. He just had to fix it.

⋆ ☆ ⋆

The clock on the wall ticked, filling the silence. Qibli watched the hands align with the 2:00AM mark. He stood motionless in the shadowy hallway, a solemn, blank expression on his face.

From inside Winter's bedroom, Qibli could hear the soft snores of the couple. Winter and Lynx were both asleep. Good.

Qibli's grip tightened on the gun. Cold and familiar. He could already hear the firing of bullets, alongside the sound of them caving into flesh. Qibli had always hated the sound, but with such a wonderful reward at the end of his plan... he didn't mind having to hear it again.

It would be perfect. With Lynx dead, there would be no more complicated secrets between Qibli and Winter. 

He flipped through the scenarios in his mind, figuring out how he was going to execute the plan. What if they woke up? What if someone found out? What would Winter think?

His mind slowed. Winter.

The weapon suddenly felt wrong in his hands. Qibli felt sick again. What was he thinking?! This was selfish and disgusting. Lynx was innocent! If he killed her, he would be no better than the family he had run away from. 

He stared down at the muzzle. How many times had he put it to an innocent person's head? 

Shaking, Qibli began to wonder how Winter felt that night. He wondered how Lynx would have felt, if he had gone through with the plan. He put the muzzle to his forehead just out of curiosity.

Fear hollowed out his stomach. He began to shake even further. 

Did he trust his own hands to not pull the trigger? It wasn't like he wanted to die, but he clearly wanted to use the gun.

I'm disgusting. How could I ever do this to Winter? How could I ever want to do this to Lynx? How could I kill those people?

He dropped the gun from his forehead, before those trigger-happy fingers could shoot it.

Qibli ran, tears stinging his eyes, and pushed open his bedroom door. He shut it and leaned against it, chest heaving, limbs shaking. His fingers loosened on the gun, and it fell to the ground. As Qibli sobbed, his eyes fell on the desk across the room, where he knew the letter sat.

Winter doesn't deserve me. He loves Lynx, and that's okay.

His heart broke. 

That's okay.

⋆ ☆ ⋆

Slow music echoed through the palace. Everybody was milling around with excitement, cheering, and clapping.

Through the energetic crowd, Qibli stood unmoving at his seat. He was like a stone in the middle of a raging river, the odd stillness in the middle of chaos. Dark eyebags circled his cold gaze, and his eyelids looked red and puffy. 

Several detached thoughts swirled around his brain as he replayed the scene over and over in his mind, flipping it around in his head, unsure if it was real.

"Lynx, do you take Prince Winter to be your husband?"

"I do."

"Prince Winter, do you take Lynx to be your wife?"

"I do."

A nail in the coffin. 

"And by the power of the Great Ice Spirits, I command you husband and wife, prince and princess. You may kiss."

A second nail in the coffin.

Winter embraced Lynx, hands wrapped delicately around her waist, kissing her as if she were the only thing in the world that ever mattered. 

He saw Tundra and Narwhal among the crowd of seats. How dare they show up? They wanted Winter dead!

But I was the assassin. I nearly killed them both. Why am I here?

He found no answer to this.

Qibli exhaled a breath through his nose, trying to regulate his nerves, which were on the verge of exploding. He took a step back, further and further away from the crowd. He was closer to the exit with each minute. 

Qibli tried to find Winter, but he was swallowed up by the crowd. People were milling around the newlyweds, and Qibli's head began to ache with all the noise. He pressed a hand to his temple, feeling the pounding of his heartbeat through his skull. 

The crowd around Winter was starting to clear up, but Qibli didn't want Winter to see him anymore. He spun around on his heels, quickly and sneakily heading for the exit before Winter could spot him and flag him down.

Qibli rushed down the halls, up the stairs, and into his bedroom. With a heaving chest, Qibli locked the door and curled up on his bed, hiding his head in his knees. The music was still audible from downstairs. It reverberated through the walls of the palace, haunting Qibli. His head pounded. He just wanted silence. He just wanted to be alone.

Qibli covered himself with a blanket and hid underneath it, cupping his hands to his ears. It was insufferably hot underneath the thick blanket, but the silence was wonderful. A tear slipped down his cheek without him realizing, and that prompted a chain reaction of more tears. Each bead of salty tears tickled his cheeks as they slid down his face, down onto the mattress below. His whole face was wet as he was unbothered to wipe the tears away.

Quiet sobs soon lulled the boy to sleep. 

When he awoke, it was because of a careful knock at his door. Qibli jolted awake, confused at first as to where he was, before he remembered everything from earlier. He sighed, tossed the blanket aside, and slid off the bed. Qibli walked over, unlocked the door, and the newcomer opened it. Winter's beyond worried face appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, Winter," he said without any tone.

The prince stepped in and shut the door. "I'm sorry, Qibli," he blurted, eyes starting to water. "I'm really sorry. I don't want this marriage. I promise."

"I know," Qibli replied, not sure if he believed it or not.

Winter stared at him, a stray tear falling from his eye. "I just--" he sniffed and broke off as his voice cracked. "I just don't know what to do, Qibli," he choked. "I'm sorry."

The other boy brought a hand up to cup Winter's face, wiping the tears away. "It's fine," he said. His tone was still dull. "Don't worry about it. I can just leave."

Winter frowned, drawing back a little in shock. "What?" He gasped. "No, you're not going to leave. I need you, Qibli."

"No, you don't," Qibli disagreed. "Trust me. I'm not making this any better."

Winter grabbed him by the shoulders, gripping onto him with desperation. His eyes wildly searched Qibli's, scanning every part of his face. "I don't care if you're making this better or not," he vowed. "I need you."

"Fine, I'll stay," Qibli muttered, pulling himself out of Winter's grip and sitting down on the edge of the bed. He swung his legs back and forth, elbows on his knees, head in hands. Winter sat down next to him and cautiously rested his hand in his hair. Qibli relaxed at the comforting touch of Winter's fingers twirling his hair.

They sat like that for a while until Winter moved to hold Qibli from behind, pulling him in close to his chest, resting his head on Qibli's hair. He wrapped his arms around Qibli, clasping his hands in his. Then Qibli let himself be gently pulled backward to lay on Winter, and then he buried his face in his neck. Winter stroked his back with his palm, tracing the ridges of his spine.Qibli yawned, becoming sleepy from the comforting warmth of Winter's embrace. While he lay snuggled up to his lover, Qibli could feel Winter's breath steadying as he fell asleep. Qibli shut his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him.

It eventually did, because Qibli opened his eyes around two hours later, when the palace was dead silent and the sky outside the window was dark.

Qibli's eyes scanned Winter's face, taking in the peaceful expression of his face as he slept. He looked so gentle and perfectly fine, as if nothing bad had ever happened to him. The silver moonlight cast gentle streaks of light across his face, illuminating the curve of his eyelashes. 

Despite how warm and comfortable he was, Qibli gingerly removed himself from the blankets and pulled his arms out from around Winter, stepped out of bed, and snuck over to the coat rack. He slipped on a thick jacket, given to him by Winter in the first month they met, and opened the door. 

The hallways were pitch black. He squinted, feeling around the walls, and found a patch of moonlight illuminating the rest of the hall. Qibli hurried out as quietly as possible, went down the stairs, through the empty ballroom, and out the grand doors. The cold temperature assaulted him as soon as the door opened, and Qibli had to brace himself for a moment to enter the cold. He stepped out, footsteps crunching in the snow, and went as fast as he could through the snowbanks.

⋆ ☆ ⋆

He had been walking for what felt like an eternity. His skin was numb and frozen to the touch and Qibli was worried that his fingertips would begin to wither away from frostbite.

"Qibli!"

He paused. Was someone yelling his name?

"Qibli!"

There it was again. It was faint, but it was getting closer. And he recognized the voice. It was Winter.

Qibli tried to pick up his pace, but his feet hurt, and he was so, so cold. He didn't make it very far when Winter came rushing down the snowy landscape and grabbed him by the shoulder and whirled him around. 

He stared at Winter, shivering uncontrollably. Winter was breathing heavily, but he wasted no time and immediately started leading Qibli back to the palace.

"Why?" Winter asked once he regained most of his breath. "Why did you leave?"

"Because I've done nothing but cause problems," Qibli said. "And I'm scared of what I'll do next."

After those words, silence returned between them, which held on the entire walk back. When they finally reached the palace, Winter brought them to Qibli's bedroom. He set Qibli on the bed, left for the bathroom, and reappeared with a cloth in his hand. Winter pressed the cloth, which was soaked in warm water, to Qibli's frozen face and wrapped a layer of blankets around him. 

"Don't leave me, Qibli," Winter said, crouched on the floor in front of Qibli. He rested his elbows on Qibli's knees. "Please. Especially like that. Never leave without telling anyone. You could have died out there, Qibli. What am I supposed to do if you died?"

Winter was crying and pleading to him. Qibli felt guilty. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

Winter shook his head and took a couple deep breaths, wiped his eyes, and exhaled shakily. "You really scared me, Qibli," he whispered.

"Sorry."

Winter didn't reply. He stared into space, frowning. He was silent for a while, then he asked, "Are you all right?"

Qibli shrugged. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Do I look all right to you, Winter?" Qibli said bitterly.

Winter's eyebrows furrowed as he held eye contact with Qibli, his eyes piercing through his soul. "No, you don't, and that's why I'm asking," he said. "I care about you, y'know."

Qibli barked a bitter, harsh laugh. "You wouldn't care about me if you knew what I'm truly like," he spat. "You need to let me go already. I'm better off dead."

"Oh, fuck you!" Winter hissed, rising to his feet. He pointed a finger at Qibli, eyes wild with burning emotion. "I've done so much for you! I've risked it all, just like you told me to!" Winter's voice rose with anger. But it was the kind of anger that someone felt when their heart was broken. Qibli knew this was how Winter was feeling. He secretly hoped that this heartbreak was the icing on the cake, the final breaking point for Winter to leave him.

"We've risked so much, Qibli. You told me that we had to risk it. And now look at you!" Winter went on, his whole body trembling with emotion. "Am I just a mistake to you, Qibli? Am I a risk that you regret taking? Too much for you to handle?"

Those words cut deep in Qibli's soul. So deep, that Qibli hadn't even realized that he felt those things until Winter pointed it out. And now the guilt was so bad he couldn't stand it. Everything came crashing down at once, and Qibli burst uncontrollably into tears. He didn't want to think of Winter that way. He loved Winter. He wasn't a mistake. But Qibli had made a mistake of risking so much. He should have waited longer. He shouldn't have started a relationship like this.

"You're not-" Qibli broke off, swallowing thickly. "You're not a mistake, Winter. I'm sorry. I'm the problem, not you."

"Do you love me, Qibli?"

"I do," he said. And he meant it. He really did.

"I love you too," Winter said. "Qibli, I understand that you're afraid. So am I. But listen, I've done so much for you. I'm scared of being caught. But I haven't given up. Do you understand?"

Qibli sniffed. "Yeah. I'm sorry that I haven't tried hard enough. I started this after all."

Winter gave him a sad smile. He reached out to cup Qibli's cheek, then leaned forward to press a beyond gentle kiss to the side of his mouth. "So? Are you ready to start again?"

He does love me, Qibli realized. He doesn't love Lynx.

Qibli nodded, wiping his eyes. "Yeah. You?"

"Yeah."