✶ CHAPTER 11 - QIBLI & WINTER ✶
CW: self harm (burning self)
Qibli stumbled into his bedroom, eyes bleary and sunken with red eyebags. He rubbed his eyes with the side of his palm, feeling the itchy grittiness of his eyes after crying for so long.
He had one more day.
With the liquor flowing through Qibli's veins, infecting his never-stable mind, he was dragged into the haunting memories that he had tried to push away. He collapsed to the floor, taking a drink of a bottle, and tossed it aside noisily. Qibli held his tear-stained face in his hands as overwhelming guilt overcame him with each memory.
Qibli, wielding a gun, watching as bullets fire into an already-dead man, caving into cold flesh. He would later dump the body into a river, with the instructions of his grandfather.
Qibli, holding the same gun to the skull of Prince Winter. The prince trembled before him as Qibli's finger rested on the trigger, hesitating. He would think of the reward, but also how much this would wreck him.
Qibli, sitting in bed, conducting a plan to murder Lynx as she slept. There was no reason whatsoever for his plan, other than his own selfishness and obsession.
Qibli, yet again holding a gun to Winter, with fingers threaded in his hair, pulling him towards the ground. Tundra, Narwhal, and Cobra hovered over him, encouraging him to kill the boy he had vowed to protect.
Each memory was stained with blood and misery. He was a disgusting, selfish psycho. Who was he? A sick freak who was always on the verge of killing someone, apparently. He hurt everyone who got in his way. He hurt everyone except for himself. Qibli needed to know what their pain felt like.
The drunk boy stood up on wobbly legs and wandered over to his little wooden desk. He grabbed a candle and lit it with a lighter he had found in the drawers. He remembered seeing Winter burn himself with the candle once-- he never told Qibli why. He would only say that it was a punishment.
Qibli stared blankly at the little flame, watching it dance around, twisting and flickering around. He watched it until an odd fascination overcame him. He reached a hand out to slowly approach the flame, fingers outstretched, yet tentative.
Qibli could feel the heat washing over his fingertips, growing hotter as his hand neared closer. The flame occasionally flickered towards his fingers as if it were testing him. He reached closer.
A flash of pain spread through his hand as the flame made contact with his skin. He jumped back and pulled his hand away from the candle, hissing in pain. But he continued to watch the flame, eyebrows furrowing. He didn't blow it out. Instead, a minute later, Qibli held his hand to the candle again.
It hurt. It burned. The flame lapped at his hand. Qibli gritted his teeth, trying to keep his hand there as long as possible, even if he couldn't take it anymore. No matter how his body protested, Qibli would have to press on. He couldn't chicken out. He had to teach himself how others felt.
His vision blurred with tears and his whole body was screaming with pain, begging Qibli to stop. But he persisted with gritted teeth, and stuck a fingertip cautiously into a part of the hot wax.
As the wax touched his skin, more pain followed. But it was strangely satisfying, with the way the wax seared his flesh. He dipped the rest of his fingers into the pool of wax, wasting no time. The fire was now dancing at his wrist, scorching and searing with overwhelming heat. He felt like he was in Scorpion City again, with the sun beating mercilessly down on him.
A hot tear slipped down his cheek. It was too much. The pain was unbearable. Qibli hung on for a few more seconds, a low whine of pain escaping through gritted teeth. Then he yanked his hand away, which was shaky and sweaty. Qibli nervously touched his burnt hand with the other, and yelped as the pain exploded with the gentle touch.
It hurt. It hurt so bad. But it was what he deserved. He wanted to feel the pain of his victims, so there it was.
The boy blew out the candle and lowered himself to the floor, holding his knees up to his chest. I'm so sorry.
⋆ ☆ ⋆
Qibli was splayed out on the floor in the shadows of his bedroom. An array of alcohol bottles were strewn about around him. He stared up at the ceiling with a watery, haunted gaze. As Winter approached the mess of his boyfriend, he felt a pang of concern. Qibli looked like shit. He had no shirt on, dark shadows circled his red, glossy eyes, and lines stained his cheeks from previous tears that had dripped down.
"Qibli? Hey, Qibli," Winter called out, shaking him lightly by the shoulder as he crouched down to the floor. He ruffled his dark, curly hair, gently coaxing Qibli to sit up. "What's wrong?"
Qibli sniffed, lips trembling, and sat up. He wobbled from side-to-side, barely even sober to sit straight and keep his eyes open. He hiccuped and stared blearily at Winter.
As Winter reached out to graze Qibli's cheek with his hand, the drunken boy broke down immediately to his touch. Tears erupted from his eyes, flowing constantly like a waterfall, and he leaned into Winter's chest. He sobbed loudly, wailing and gasping for breath. Winter rubbed his back soothingly, tracing the ridges of his spine.
"Shh, it's okay, it's okay," Winter murmured, using the most tender voice he had. He was scared to use the wrong tone and make everything worse. "Qibli, baby. It's okay," he tried.
"Shut up," Qibli slurred bitterly against his neck. "Don't call me that."
Winter blinked, taken aback. He continued to rub Qibli's back. "What's wrong with it?"
Qibli made a desolate, annoyed noise. "Because I don't- hic- fuckin' deserve it." His voice broke on the last words, and began to cry even harder. "I don't deserve it, so quit fuckin' lyin'."
"What the fuck am I lying about?" Winter asked, and when Qibli didn't answer, he added, "What are you talking about?"
Oh, shit, Winter thought. His words came out too harsh. Too soon. Winter felt his heart sink. He already fucked it up. It was too late to take the words back and calm Qibli back down.
"I'm- hic- a piece of fuckin' shit," Qibli slurred. "I fucked everythin' up. You almost died, your parents are- hic- in jail, whatever. All because I'm a stupid fuckin' greedy whore."
Winter frowned, some kind of protective anger bubbling inside of him. "Stop that!" he scolded, grabbing Qibli by the shoulders to shake him and force his eyes to meet his. "I know you're drunk out of your mind, but you need to snap out of it! You aren't any of those things, and none of this is your fault. You took risks, and that's the only reason we're even together!"
Qibli rolled his eyes and shoved him backward. "Are you stupid or something?" He nearly shouted. "We shouldn't even be together! You're too good for me!" Qibli scowled at him, glaring bitter, rage-filled eyes at him. The rage burned Winter. Qibli went on. "I'm a fuckin' criminal. I killed people. I'm a piece of shit lowlife who's so fuckin' greedy that I fuck up your entire life. Just look at you! You're damn royalty. You lived a perfect life before I came along and flipped everythin' over! I don't deserve you, Winter. Let me go!"
Winter stared at him with wide eyes that glimmered with tears. His heart pounded and his hands began to shake. "I never lived a perfect life," he scoffed with a bitter laugh, voice wavering with a sob. "I fucked it up myself. You had nothing to do with it, asshole!"
"See?" Qibli hissed, pointing a finger at him. "I'm an asshole, you said it yourself.".
"You know I didn't mean it like that," Winter retorted, smacking his hand away--
What is that?
Oh. Oh, moons, no.
Winter paused, grabbed Qibli's wrist, and pulled his hand forward with surprising gentleness. As he examined his hand, Qibli fell silent, tensing up.
"Where'd you get these from?" Winter asked cautiously. It was a series of burns along his hand, running down to his wrist. They looked fresh. His gut began to churn--
His own hand, reaching into the lit wick, trembling as the flame seared his sweaty flesh, burning off the dream that replayed in his mind. The pain of his nails scratching at the blisters, digging at them until he couldn't take the pain any longer--
"None of your business," Qibli said defensively, squirming around in an attempt to wrestle his hand free of Winter's grasp. "Let go."
"No."
"Let go, Winter. Please." His voice was beginning to shake with fear.
"Not until you tell me about these burns," Winter demanded.
Qibli looked pale. He stared at Winter with pleading, desperate eyes, like he was begging Winter to understand without having to tell him. And unfortunately, Winter was pretty sure he understood.
"Did you do this to yourself?" Winter asked, his voice returning to the soft one he had used before, words laced with worry.
Qibli's gaze fixed onto the floor. His lips were pressed into a thin, unmoving line. He swallowed.
"Qibli, please."
Winter was shoved again, and Qibli stood up to his feet. He made a move to leave, but Winter swiftly got up in an instinctive reaction, rushing over to grab Qibli and haul him back, sitting him down on the bed. "Qibli, you can't just do this and up and leave," he scolded, taking his burnt hand in his. "Tell me what happened."
Qibli stared at him, fear and rage embedded in tear-clouded eyes. Winter felt guilty for being so pushy and harsh towards him, but he had to do what he had to do. If he let Qibli go, Winter had a feeling that the drunken boy would do something worse.
The silence was loud and pointed. Neither of them moved.
"Qibli, please. I need you to talk to me," Winter pleaded. "Just– anything, please, I'm begging you. Don't hurt yourself. I- I can't- I can't lose you." He was getting choked up, overwhelmed with tears. He let go of Qibli's hand, then shakily reached upward to cup his face. "You're all I have. So please, just tell me why you did this."
Qibli looked worse by the second. His eyes were bleak, devoid of any happiness or comfort. "I deserve the pain," he mumbled.
Winter very nearly smacked him to bring sense into him. His hand hovered in the air, dangerously close to Qibli's face. He lowered it and gently put it back to Qibli's cheek. "Don't say shit like that," he reprimanded. "That's not true, and you know it."
"Just because you- hic- believe that doesn't mean it isn't true," Qibli argued, pulling his face away from Winter's warm hands. Flinching away, rather.
"It's true to me!" Winter cried. "Isn't that what matters? Aren't we here to support each other? I need you, Qibli. I can't lose you."
Qibli sniffed, head cast downwards. A tear snaked down his cheek and plopped onto the floor below with a small thump. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "I need you too."
"Then why are you trying to separate us when we both need each other?" Winter asked, trembling with emotion.
Quiet.
Instead, Qibli replied, "I'm sorry."
Winter sighed. "I know."
Qibli's gaze was stuck on the floor. "Do you really love me?"
"I do."
"Sorry."
Winter regarded him with glimmering, teary eyes. He extended an arm. "Come here."
Qibli complied immediately. He climbed into Winter's embrace, letting the prince hold him close with tender gentleness and care. He gingerly took Qibli's hand in his, careful not to touch the burns that littered his soft skin. "Promise me to never hurt yourself again."
The other boy stared quietly down at their intertwined hands. "I promise."
Winter's spare hand reached up to run through Qibli's hair, and he leaned forward to kiss the crown of his hair.
"I missed you," Qibl murmured against his neck. "That prison cell was awful. I kept imagining that I was with you."
Winter was silent, his mind caught on the moment where Qibli flinched away from him, even after he stopped himself from smacking Qibli. He shouldn't have flinched. "Did she hurt you?"
Qibli stilled. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible. "Yeah. In the prison."
Winter pulled him back enough to look into his eyes. With his gaze clouded with tears, lip trembling, Qibli was the most beautiful sight Winter had ever seen. He wanted to protect Qibli for eternity and shield him from any kind of damage.
He cradled the boy tighter, reached a hand upward to graze his scar, and kissed him on the forehead. Qibli leaned into him, resting his head in the crook of his neck. Winter felt the shaking of his body and tears dripping onto his skin as Qibli sobbed. The prince rubbed his back, kissed his head, and held him as close as possible. He wanted Qibli to feel every ounce of love he had for him.
"I'm sorry for almost hitting you," Winter apologized. "I'm sorry she hurt you. You don't deserve anything she did to you."
"It's okay," Qibli said quietly. "I'll be fine now, since I'll be with you."
He smiled. A tear slipped down his cheek. "I love you, Qibli," he whispered. "I really do. I love you more than anything. You mean everything to me."
"I love you, too," Qibli replied. "I'll never leave you."
Tears clumped Winter's eyelashes together. "And I, you."
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