Look After You

The Crown

     Ralph slithered across the floor faster than Ryan's double vision could catch him. Suddenly, that man was behind him, tangling his fingers up in bloody locks while his other hand forced the gun against his temple. He saw stars exploding when dirty fingertips touched his wound. The maroon combustion of brains against old wood and pale hands left him dizzy. He swallowed down something that was stuck to the lining of his throat. If Bo saw such a sight, he'd never be the same again. Ryan knew he wouldn't be.

     Speaking of Bo, he could hear his shoes slicing through twigs and plants. It grew closer and closer until it was right outside the door. The doorknob turned, and in one single moment, the man on everyone's mind was before him. Heaving shoulders, oily face, trembling limbs supporting the weight of his crowned head. He was a frantic mess. Ryan wanted to punch him until blood and red hair were stuck to his knuckles.

     "Ryan." Bo gasped. His eyes raised to meet Ralph's before turning to slits. "Father."

     "Son!" Ralph chuckled. "My, how you've grown since the last time I saw you in person. The newspaper clippings I have just don't do you justice—"

     "Let him go." His fingernails dug into his palms. "Now."

     "I'd love to. You know what you need to give me first, don't you, boy?" Ralph's gaze was fixed on the gold on Bo's head.

     Ryan didn't like the look in the king's eyes.

     He didn't like the way that his pupils dropped to the floor, squashed under the weight of the decision thrust upon him. Ryan could feel a pit in his stomach that was forming just beneath the ropes around his chest. He refused to allow the idea of surrendering his crown to fester in his mind for another second longer. It would grow like a parasite if he didn't stop it, consuming the king's logic until he was handing over everything he had. Ryan could see it now, a fiery dictatorship glued to the inside of his eyelids. It felt like there was sand in his mouth.

     "Bo, stop." Air snagged in Ryan's throat when fingernails dug into his wound.  "S-Stop, don't even think about it."

     "Star—"

     "Don't 'Star' me, asshole, I'm serious. Don't give him your crown. Don't give this guy anything. You worked so hard to get to where you are now. Please, Bo, don't throw all of that away for me."

     Bo's shoulders fell. He finally noticed the red tangled up in his hair and rolling down over his earlobe. It was impossible to tear his gaze away from it.

     The king whispered, "He'll kill you."

     "He's going to kill me regardless."

     "There's a chance that I could save you."

     "No, there's not!" He shouted loud enough to disturb the crickets outside. "Just let me die, goddammit! You can't give up your kingdom over me. If you do, you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life. Think about it for a second. Think about yourself, think about your people, think about Kyle."

     He shifted from foot to foot, hands faltering every time they even considered going towards his crown. 

     "I-I..." Bo stared through his father. "I don't have a second."

     "Yes, you do." Ryan tried his best to calm the two thumping heartbeats in his chest. "As long as that crown's on your head, he won't hurt me—"

     Ryan didn't feel it happen.

     Not right away, at least. There were a few silent seconds before he felt anything. A few seconds before he got a good look at Bo's face. At wide red eyes that had been flooded with horror and uncertain limbs that were now paralyzed. Before Ryan could ask why he had such a puzzling expression, he felt fire. An inferno, actually. A blaze that was worse than the flames curling at the bottom of hell itself. It swallowed up his right shoulder until there was nothing left but paper muscles clinging onto wax bones. The heat pushed him out of his body until he was forced on the other side of the room, standing next to Bo as they both witnessed his body go still. A black handle with familiar fingers curled around it was buried into his shoulder. He couldn't even see the blade, just the red bubbling up around it.

     Ryan watched his own mouth open. He heard someone scream from the other side of the world.

     "So, your real name is Ryan."

     A voice dripped into his ear. It dragged him back into his body before he could blink. Back into a fire that made his vision smear until the king was a red blur with watery gold on top. He gasped until static filled his chest instead of air. The voice stuck to the inside of his ears like honey.

     "Well, Ryan, I have to wonder what made you come to that conclusion."

     The knife was turned clockwise, snapping muscles and ripping through veins as if they were made of plastic. Anything in his arm that had managed to stay intact was melting down into magma that made his body involuntarily twitch in his bindings. Those deafening screams died down into insufferable hisses that hit the ears like nails on a chalkboard.

     "I don't ever recall saying that I wouldn't hurt you." Ralph poured another drop of honey in his head as he twisted the knife in the other direction. "Now, this may come as a surprise to you, but I'm willing to go as far as I have to to get what's mine."

     Ralph yanked the knife out of Ryan's shoulder and pointed it at Bo. Red rolled off of the blade and onto his jeans.

     "My son and I both know that though," Ralph said.

     Ryan couldn't look at the king.

      He tried like hell to meet those red eyes that he always loved to stare at, but he couldn't raise his gaze above broken lips and flared nostrils. If he got more than a glimpse of what sat inside those pupils, he'd be weak against the tears he was desperately trying to fight back against. He couldn't cry in front of Bo, not now. He'd sooner let himself be turned to dust and ashes from the fire in his shoulder than let anything more than sweat and blood roll down his face. He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip until he tasted metal.

     "So, about that crown." Ralph sounded lightyears away when he spoke. "Well, you don't need me to ask you again, do you, boy?"

     Those uncertain limbs trembled as they raised above Bo's head. He held gold in front of his chest, turned it over enough times to fill Ryan's stomach with wet cement. The assassin tried to open his mouth, tried to beg him to think about his decision before he made it, but his brain couldn't make his jaw move. It was too busy trying to come to terms with the throbbing in his shoulder. His muscles were breathing as fast and hard as he was. He wasn't sure how he heard Bo's voice over the constant sound of it.

     "I'm sorry, Ryan."

     Ryan was sorry too.