the remarkable misfortunes of ryan ross

Chapter 7 - The Payback Shoe

"Are you okay?" Brendon asked, his words dry and impersonal. Ryan noticed that a lot of what Brendon said came off as detached and bordered on cold. Maybe it was the way he had been raised?

Ryan stared, unresponding, with large coffee colored eyes. He didn't really know what to say in response. What a dim-witted question. Did he look okay?

"Ahmm," Brendon cleared his throat, clearly expecting a more prompt answer.

"No," Ryan said, bitterness unintentionally creeping behind his voice.

Brendon arched his eyebrow, waiting for something.

When Ryan realized what he meant he rolled his eyes, "your Majesty," he added unable to hide the sarcasm. Brendon flinched at the tone, but did not complain.

"Yes, obviously." The prince didn't clarify of what he spoke but Ryan assumed it was about his injury. "So what happened?"

"I was hiding in some hay, and one of your men struck me twice with what looked like a thick golden wand. One of those times he hit me directly on the side of my ribs, and now they hurt horribly." Ryan tried to keep his voice as matter of fact and aloof as the prince's, but it was hard; he was resentful, and in his mind he had reason to be.

"Do you think they're broken?" Brendon asked dropping some of the pretense of his words and letting a remarkably small sliver of concern slip across his face.

"Well, I can't see inside my chest, but I assume they've cracked," He reached his slender hand towards the injury, "I can barely force myself to breathe, so I'd say it's a possibility, yes."

Brendon stared at him, moving his eyes over the boy's frame as though deciding what kind of emotions he should allow himself to feel for the creature at his feet.

"Thank you," Ryan added, "for sending for a doctor."

At those words Brendon broke his stoic facade and beamed, "I do have a most gracious soul."

Ryan's face turned puzzled. He'd expected a, 'You're welcome,' at the most, and silence at the least. Damn, Brendon was an arrogant ass; he would have shaken his head in disbelief had his body not been so damaged.

Brendon, however, didn't catch Ryan's reaction at all and began to seat himself cross-legged in front of the smaller boy. Ryan wrinkled his nose at the sight of Brendon's pristine white britches settling onto the filth covered stone floor.

"Can I see it?"

"See what?" Ryan followed the prince's eyes toward the spot on his ribs where his hand rested, "Oh, do I have a choice?"

"You have a choice because I choose to grant you one."

Ryan frowned, but undid the buttons on his thin overshirt, sliding both it and the ratty brown vest he wore down to reveal his upper body. Brendon winced, and Ryan himself was afraid to look.

In an odd way, the injury was beautiful. It looked as though someone had taken a sponge and splotched deep purples and blacks together with a vivid ocher yellow near the center.

Brendon felt queasy to think about one of his own guards having shoved his hand against such an injury for no other reason than pure sadism.

Still, the view wasn't all bad. Other than the wound, Ryan's body was beautiful, small and frail, but beautiful. Brendon was awed at the way his chest tapered perfectly from his slightly broader shoulders down towards his more slender waist. He gawked at the way the boy's hip bones showed, sharp and curved at the same time, just above the top of his pants, and how Ryan's skin was slightly paler than his arms and face, but looked no less soft and touchable.

"I'm not a thing. Please do not stare at me as though I were one," Ryan pursed his lips in annoyance.

"I – I wasn't," Brendon flat out lied. "I was just noticing how your skin changes shade slightly at the bottom of the neck, and just half-way up your arms."

"It comes from having to work outside in the sun." Ryan made it clear that he did not find anything admirable about sitting around all day in perfect white pants while courtyard girls fawned over you.

The prince's face fell. "Do you never do anything fun?"

Ryan sighed as best he could without moving his chest. "I play the lute."

Brendon narrowed his eyes questioningly. "You play an instrument? How can you even afford an instrument?"

"I made it myself," Ryan's voice bordered on outrage, "Me and my best friend, Spencer. He helped me." Ryan hated saying Spencer's name; it reminded him how much he missed his friend who was always there to comfort him. "I like playing it because when I do, I think of him, and of when I was younger, and didn't have to worry about things."

"Are you any good?"

"I'm okay. But I honestly just love playing, not really trying to be the absolute best or what not. It's a comfort thing. I guess."

Loud noise rumbled from the stairs, and Zack pounded back down. "The doctor refuses to come."

"What?" Brendon spat the word in frustration.

"Your father informed him that he is not paying him to tend to prisoners, and that if you wish to play favorites down in the dungeons, then you can find and hire your own doctor."

Zack tried to keep his voice level in hopes that Brendon wouldn't explode when he was finished.

Brendon dug in his pocket, pulled out a coin and threw it, bouncing it off Zack's chest. "Will you please ask the doctor if I may purchase some of his supplies so that I can at least wrap the wound myself!" Brendon shouted, his face showing an odd mix of red and self righteousness all at the same time.

Ryan laughed at the almost comical expression and QUICKLY regretted having done so. "Ohhhh," he groaned, clasping his hand over his multi-colored ribs.

"No need," a mischievous smirk boiled across Zack's face, "I nicked these from his chambers."

Zack reached behind him and into a back pocket and pulled out several rags and clasps. He tossed them down to Brendon who was still sitting in front of Ryan.

"And that's why I pay you with both money AND friendship." Brendon winked, picking the rags up from the floor. "Now lets see if I can't wrap this without hurting him."

"Fold it over so it's flat and about a foot wide." Zack clearly knew what he was doing, and Ryan was grateful that Brendon obeyed. "Now wrap it around EVENLY."

Brendon moved closer and pulled the cloth around Ryan's torso; his cheek was inches away from the boy's, and Ryan could smell him. The prince smelled a lot better than he did.

Brendon tightened the rag, firmly compressing against the ribs. Ryan hissed and stiffened at the pain.

"Shh, it'll be okay," Brendon whispered.

Ryan actually calmed; for the first time since Brendon had spoken to him, the prince sounded genuinely concerned and sympathetic.

Ryan turned his head and the two boys nearly, accidentally, brushed their lips against the other's cheek. Both pulled away instantly, and both blushed, though Ryan's was quickly accompanied by a grimace at the stabbing sensation caused by the sudden movement.

"Sorry," Brendon sucked the side of his cheek into his mouth, "It'll get better. I promise. It's all wrapped up proper and everything."

"Thank you."

Brendon beamed again and opened his mouth, but then stopped himself and muttered simply, "You're welcome."

Ryan wanted to smile, but couldn't quite, not after all this. At least the "charade" part was over. Then he remembered that Brendon, supposedly, had plans to use him just like everyone else. The only reason he was fixing him, was because he wouldn't be of any use broken.

Ryan scowled again, and Brendon's face fell a little as a result. He stood again and unsuccessfully tried to brush the dirt off the bum of his sterling white trousers.

"I'll bring you some food." The prince's voice was formal again, and the more human traits were gone.

Ryan felt the cold stab of the other boy's words, and he instantly thought of the dungeon guard's contempt for his own person and found it hard to believe that Brendon would help him if it were not for selfish reasons; he needed to know when the payback shoe was set to drop.

"Are you going to rape me?" Ryan spat. He decided that it would be better to cut straight to the point. He wanted to know what to expect out of all this.

Brendon's eyes flamed in shock and his mouth dropped open, "What did you say to me?"

Ryan set his jaw and raised one of his already arched brows.

"Was my voice not clear your majesty?"

"Asshole!" Brendon snapped as though someone had stabbed him in the back.

Ryan looked down at his lap and started to feel bad for having snapped at someone who had helped him... and as of YET hadn't asked for anything in return.

The prisoner decided to correct himself; he looked back up, and opened his mouth, but in one swift, fuming, motion Brendon kicked some of the dirt and hay scattered on the ground into Ryan's face. "Eat that."

The prince and his guard marched from the room leaving Ryan alone with a mouth full of dirt.