✶ CHAPTER 08 - QIBLI & WINTER ✶

CW: vomiting

"Prince Qibli, here is a letter for you."

Qibli glanced over at the mailman. He was sorting through the drawers of mail, and had a hand outstretched towards Qibli with a letter.

"Oh," he said, taking the envelope. Qibli flipped it around in his fingers, examining the handwriting. "Thank you, sir."

The mailman nodded as Qibli began to walk away to an empty hall, still staring at the letter. He nervously pried it open and unfurled the handwritten letter inside.

His stomach dropped as the memories came rushing up to taunt him. The paper began to wobble in his grasp as his hands trembled uncontrollably.

No. Not now. This can't be happening.

On the bottom of the letter was the haunting signature 'Cobra'.

⋆ ☆ ⋆

The door creaked open. Winter looked up from the letters he was organizing, and his gaze landed on Qibli. The boy stood in the doorway, staring bleakly at Winter. Then, he shut the door.

Neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke.

A tear dripped down Qibli's cheek, and Winter saw the intense shakiness in his hands as he brought them up to wipe his eyes.

"Qibli?" Winter called out, concerned for his partner. "Are you alright?" He rushed out from his desk to cradle Qibli in his arms when the boy crumpled to his knees. Face red and puffy, Qibli's lower lip trembled as he choked on a sob, leaning against Winter. 

He rubbed Qibli's back with his palm, but Qibli only began to cry further. He was trembling violently in his arms, his breath coming in ragged, rushed gasps. He turned his head towards Winter, eyes wide and red, with dark red eyebags circling them. His jaw opened, but no words came out, only a strangled cry. Qibli shakily grabbed Winter by his shirt, the fabric balled up in his shaky, sweaty hands. 

Winter stared at him, unaware of what to do. "Qibli, breathe, it's okay," he assured the panicked, erratic boy. "Please. Breathe."

Qibli gasped for breath, suddenly looking faint. "No," he gasped. "No, it's not okay!" Chest heaving, the boy wept more, letting out a destitute wail. "I can't-" he broke off, swallowing. "I-I can't go back." 

"What do you mean?" Winter asked. 

Despite his intense shakiness, Qibli's grasp on him tightened. "Winter, please," he begged. "Please, please, please, don't let her take me back."

Oh. His mother.

Winter recalled that night, where a cold muzzle of a gun was pressed against his head. He knew it was Qibli, he didn't know why, but he knew it was.

Cobra had taken Qibli back a while ago, but at some point since Winter had nearly been assassinated, Qibli had left her again. But something clearly happened for Qibli to be panicking like this. Something must have provoked him to think that Cobra was going to find him again, Winter thought. Now he can't stop himself from panicking, and he needs comfort. But he can't tell me the truth, because to him, that could make me realize that he's the assassin. Qibli doesn't know that I already know.

But even so, why is he acting like his mother is going to take him back? Is he just being paranoid, or is she actually going to? What does he know?

Qibli stared up at him pitifully, eyes clouded with tears, lip trembling, nose red. He hiccuped, breathing unsteadily. 

 At the sight, Winter's heart completely broke. "Hey, I will never, ever let her take you back, or use you in any way."

Qibli tensed and reached for his temple, wincing as he pressed his trembling fingers against his skin. He must have a headache. The boy swallowed thickly, pressing his eyes shut. He whined and grasped his stomach. "I feel sick," he groaned weakly. Winter pulled away from Qibli so he could leave to the bathroom. Qibli swiftly hurried out of the room, and then he heard the bathroom door close.

Winter still sat there, his thoughts crowded. In the silence, he heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Winter strained his ears to listen. Is he throwing up? 

The prince stood to his feet and walked over to the bathroom door and listened cautiously. 

He heard a guttural sound, heavy breathing, and heaving. Definitely throwing up. Winter cringed, feeling his own stomach churn, and took a step back from the door, focusing on the floor instead.

He heard the toilet flush, the sink running, and then the door opened. Qibli staggered out, looking miserable and disheveled. Sympathy tugged at Winter's heart and he embraced Qibli in a comforting hug. The boy leaned into him, resting his head on his shoulder, silent.

Oh, what do I do? He's so scared. 

Winter gently brought him over to the bed, sat him down, and held him close. He pressed a kiss to Qibli's forehead, running fingers through his hair. Qibli stared into space, unblinking and wide-eyed. He gave no response to anything.

"Are you okay?" Winter asked, his voice as soft as possible, afraid to upset Qibli further. There was something wrong with him in this moment. Winter knew that he was lying-- just a little-- but there was something else. Something deeper, rooted in the darkest cracks of Qibli's desperate heart. 

Qibli didn't answer. He didn't even move.

"Qibli?"

"I'm fine," he said, monotone and quiet.

Winter swallowed nervously and continued to run his fingers through his hair. It seemed to be calming him a little, judging by how he leaned into Winter's touch. "Do you need anything?"

"No," Qibli pressed closer.

"All right," Winter murmured. "Just let me know if you need anything."

Qibli buried his face in his neck. "Okay. Are you done bothering me now?"

There was a beat of silence when Winter found himself unable to create a response in shock. "I'm just making sure you're okay, y'know."

"Sorry."

Winter sighed.

Qibli raised his head and stared at Winter with suddenly panicked, watery eyes. "I'm sorry," he said with a tremor in his voice. "Please don't hate me, I didn't mean it."

Winter felt his heart break. He cupped Qibli's face with his palms. "I would never hate you," he promised. "And I know you didn't mean it. You're just scared right now, and that's okay."

Qibli stared back at him, the panic and terror in his gaze subsided into relief and admiration. A tear escaped the confinement of his eye and ran down his cheek, where Winter caught it with a thumb, wiping it away. Qibli rested his head back in the crook of Winter's neck, snug and comforting, like he had always belonged there.

They fell into a content silence, letting their warm intimacy speak for them. They curled up in the blankets, tangled in each other's limbs. Winter's hand went down Qibli's back, tracing the ridges of his spine. Qibli pressed closer, his breath hot on his neck. His skin burned with the contact of Qibli's fingers on his skin, from where he ran his fingers across his hip bones.

Everything was warm, warm, warm. It was comforting. Winter could feel the rise-and-fall of Qibli's chest eventually slow a little as he drifted off to sleep. He kissed the top of his head and closed his eyes, waiting for the comforting warmth to bring him to sleep.

⋆ ☆ ⋆

A bang echoed through the night as the gun fired. Winter slumped to the ground, blood gushing from his heart, his eyes locked on Qibli's. 

"I know it was you."

The gun was in Qibli's trembling hand, but it wasn't him who pulled the trigger. It wasn't him who killed Winter. Right?

Qibli awoke with a scream, heart hammering wildly in his chest, so fast that he could barely breathe fast enough to catch up with his heart. Qibli flailed in the sheets for a moment until he felt Winter's steady hands clasping his shoulders, steadying him, anchoring him back to the present.

Winter was immediately all over him, eyebrows furrowed in worry, arms wrapped around him, his mouth moving with words, but Qibli couldn't hear them. The bang still echoed in his brain, and he could only see Winter's dying gaze when he stared back at Winter.

He looked away, squeezed his eyes shut, and massaged his temples. Gradually, the real world came back to him. Qibli could hear Winter's voice, the gruff accent sounding like music to his ears. It felt like he hadn't heard him in forever.

"Qibli?"

"I can hear you now," he said.

Winter pulled him in closer. "Oh, good," he replied. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, just a dream," Qibli assured, but the shakiness in his voice was still audible. 

Winter's hands rested on his torso, pulling him into an embrace. They laid like that for a while, basking in one another. Qibli's heart rate began to slow down as Winter comforted him.

But Qibli pulled away. This isn't right.

"What's wrong?" Winter asked, his eyes flashing with worry and fear. "What did I do?"

He shook his head and looked away. "You didn't do anything wrong," he assured. "But I have to leave. We can't do this- not now. You're supposed to be with your wife." He spat the final word, hating how it felt on his tongue. The word seared with acid and rage and he hated feeling like that.

Winter propped himself up on his elbow, staring up at Qibli with furrowed brows. The mattress creaked under his weight. "She's out with Snowfall tonight. We're fine."

"I don't give a shit where she is!" Qibli cried. Winter flinched. "The problem is that we can get caught like this!" 

 "We have to take risks, Qibli," Winter pointed out. "We already went through this."

His gaze dropped to the blankets underneath them. He didn't reply.

"If you're so concerned about Lynx, she doesn't love me, y'know," Winter said after a moment of silence. 

"How do you know she doesn't love you?" Qibli retorted. "Just because she loves Snowfall doesn't mean she doesn't love you too. You guys seem really close with one another."

Winter sighed. "We're close because we have to be convincing, Qibli. We've also been friends since childhood," he reasoned. "And I know that she only loves Snowfall. She told me that before we even got arranged together."

"She could have lied," Qibli pointed out, stubbornly clinging to his beliefs. "You don't know for sure. You can't read her mind."

Winter gave him a strange look. A little scared? Worried? What was that for?

"Qibli.." the prince started, hesitating so he could put his words right. "Listen, I obviously can't tell if she's lying to me or not, but what I do know, is that I love you. Only you. Aren't my feelings the ones that matter? You're dating me, not Lynx."

"I guess," he replied. "But I don't want her to love you. I want to know that I'm the only one who does."

Winter's gaze dropped to the floor. He still looked worried.

"What?" Qibli asked, his tone a little harsher than he meant to sound. "Why do you look so worried?"

The boy hesitated, mouth open, but words failed to come out. "It's just-" he broke off, not tearing his eyes away from the floor. "It's just.. you're really, um. Possessive?"

Qibli went still. He knew he was possessive and obsessed towards Winter. But he couldn't help it, right? 

"Qibli?"

He dragged himself out of his thoughts, realizing that Winter was now looking at him. That was definitely fear in his eyes. "Are you scared of me?" He blurted, icy panic gripping his heart. 

"No, I'm not," Winter said, and Qibli could see that he was honest. "It's just how you act like this sometimes. This scares me."

Panic and fear settled deeper, rooting into him. "Please don't be scared of me," he begged without thinking. "I'm really sorry, I don't mean to act like this. You're all I have, Winter. I don't want you to leave me. Please don't leave, or hate me, I'm sorry. I really am," he went on, unable to be stopped. "No, that's selfish of me. If you hate me, you can leave. I won't forgive myself for making you hate me."

Winter stared at him, eyes wide. "Great Ice Spirits, Qibli, breathe," he said, reaching out a nervous hand to rest on his shoulder. "Hey, I don't hate you. I'm also not scared of you. I know that you're like this for a reason."

He could feel all the weight in his heart crumbling down, like a dam exploding and releasing all the water. Qibli caved in, uncontrollable tears sweeping down his cheeks. Nobody had ever understood him before. Nobody had ever understood how he had grown up, so deprived of love. All Qibli had ever wanted was to be loved, and when someone-- Winter-- finally did, Qibli latched onto him, afraid to feel alone ever again.

Winter wrapped his arms around him, letting Qibli rest his head on his shoulder. He seemed to understand what Qibli was crying about, because he said, "I'm not afraid of you for having a shitty childhood. I know what it was like. You're not alone, Qibli."

Those words were enough to fill his heart with happiness and warmth. For Qibli's entire life, he just wanted someone to tell him that he wasn't alone in this cruel world. Nobody had filled that void-- not until Winter. He completed Qibli in a way that there was no going back without the second piece attached. Without Winter, Qibli wouldn't function properly. Once he tasted love, he couldn't let go of it. And he knew that Winter felt the same way. 

They needed one another in a messy, complicated, difficult way. But it was their messy, complicated, difficult way. And it was perfect.