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Leona opened his eyes, glaring up at the bird sitting on the branch above him and the bright blue sky — cursing all the while.
He couldn’t sleep. Leona Kingscholar, the guy known for sleeping in ten seconds flat, couldn’t sleep.
Irritated, he shot a concentrated spark of fire at the bird.
He missed. Leona Kingscholar, the guy known for his magical prowess, couldn’t pin down a single bird.
…Why yes, Leona’s day was going very well, thank you very much.
To make matters so much better, with the greatest timing in Twisted Wonderland, a very familiar, grating voice ripped him out of his catatonia. “Leona?” Ruggie called out, the shout accompanied by the loud snaps and cracks of the branches and vines. Leona tried to turn over, letting out a low groan when doing so.
He couldn’t move.
Leona Kingscholar, everyone.
Ruggie only continued, voice getting nearer, “Leona, you here?”
Soon enough the footsteps stopped, and across the forest clearing there Ruggie stood.
“Knew it,” the hyena said with a sigh. “Dude, you missed your meeting. Riddle’s been houndin’ me like crazy.”
Leona shot a glare as he tried to sit up… but each creak of his limbs earned him a series of lung shattering coughs. “Ruggie,” he barely managed to get out, trying to not acknowledge how ragged his breathing got when he kept on trying to move.
After being momentarily stunned, Ruggie jumped to his feet. “Right, stay there, I’ll get some water and call someone over—”
“Don’t,” Leona grunted. “Don’t take another step.”
Ruggie let the silence hang; to prove something, no doubt. Feeling petty, Leona followed suit.
Leona's pettiness paid off, as Ruggie interrupted the silence with an irritated click of his tongue. “What, am I supposed to leave you like this?” Ruggie asked. “You’re sick man, ‘course you’ve gotta get—”
“I’m not going to the infirmary, Ruggie.” Clamping down on a wince, Leona wiped the sweat on his face. “I’m not about to let any of those damn buffoons see me like…”
The sudden, ensuing coughing fit made him double over in pain, blinding him as everything around him melted into a thick, blurry paste. His insides were roiling aflame, and it was undoubtedly getting hard to breathe. Just great.
Even as all his surroundings spun, Ruggie’s inquisitive “Like?” struck through, suddenly way nearer than before. It was useless to run away from Ruggie’s approach, to bark out orders for Ruggie to stay back. The only thing Leona was able to notice was the fact that he pathetically fell to the ground, Leona Kingscholar, falling to the ground like an invalid, he grit his teeth and demanded to his body that he get up again—
Piercing through his thoughts was a cool touch to his forehead.
“Get out,” Leona could barely say.
“Sevens, you’re boiling,” Ruggie said, his breath fanning Leona’s face as Ruggie went to check his cheek too—the nerve—Leona swatted at the hyena’s hands before he could check the other. “How long have you been like this—”
“Ruggie,” Leona spat out, “get out of my damn sight before I MAKE you.”
He couldn’t see the face of Ruggie, but Leona could only assume it was something of pity, of abject superiority.
Voice carefully neutral, Ruggie got up and said, “Alright.” And so, his voice got further away. “Fine.”
For the first time in a while, Ruggie actually listened to the instructions, and all was quiet again.
With the ensuing silence, the buzz laying dormant in his conscious came alive as the air choked him with the threat of death—how ironic, a fate like this. Dying by a dry feeling in his throat, this impenetrable, sand-wielding sad excuse of a prince. Certainly a sad, sad way to die—
And then the sound of branches and vines cracking echoed again across the forest.
Leona snapped open his eyes. “What did I tell you.”
Through the blurring of his eyes, Leona saw Ruggie holding a bright red, first-aid bag and a glass of water. Distinctly, Ruggie was not moving.
“Ruggie, what the hell did I tell you,” Leona repeated, “and what do you think I meant?”
There sure was lots of hesitation for what was an easy question.
Leona rolled his eyes. “Well?” he asked, impatient.
And.
To Leona's eternal dismay, Ruggie silently walked forward and sat by Leona’s side, hovering a cup of water in front of him—like Leona’s supposed to oblige him like a little lamb. As if. Leona swatted the cup away, and with a resolute glare he turned the hell around.
Ruggie only sighed, reached to pick the cup, and filled it again with a water spell… or at least, he tried his best to, because he kept on failing for what must have been a few minutes—both Leona and him knew that he struggled particularly with conjuring a specific, small amount of magic.
After the third attempt, Leona let out a sigh. “Just stop. I don’t need your pity.”
But Ruggie kept on trying. Such a concentrated furrow for such a trivial, benign thing. And, before long, there in the cup was water again.
Leona, distinctly, did not move to drink it.
Ruggie laid down the cup on a book and unzipped the first-aid bag along with Leona’s growing confusion, taking out the miscellany of medical supplies and laying them all out on the ground.
Among them, Ruggie reached down to pick up a towel as if it were a blanket of gold, soaking it with conjured water.
…And Leona, distinctly, was at a loss for words. The scenario was too absurd; a sack of shit uselessly caring for another sack of shit. Really, if all of this were coming from any other person, being done to any other person—anyone could say that it was… a kind and respectful gesture.
The dry feeling in his throat worsened so he moved to cough, if only to shake off the now very evident, uncomfortable feeling.
And of course, Ruggie had the nerve to hold the soaked towel gently to his forehead. “If you’re sick, you’re sick,” he said distantly, to a person that could never be him. “There’s no use in pretendin’ you’re not.”
Leona gave into the urge to laugh cruelly. “Save it for someone who cares,” he spat out, even as his throat threatened to close up. “Word of advice, it isn’t called survival of the kindest. That’s herbivore shit.”
The grin he wore remained plastered on his face as he continued with the cruelty of the desert wind. “It’s survival of the fittest, and I’ve every interest in surviving. It’d do you good to follow suit,” he finished in the way that never failed him—taunting a reaction out of his prey. Triumphant, Leona flicked his eyes up to meet Ruggie’s gaze…
But nothing happened.
Leona’s superior grin melted away.
“Say something.”
Silently, Ruggie took Leona’s towel and soaked it anew, placing it back on his forehead.
“SAY something,” Leona repeated.
But Ruggie kept his eyes down, lost in his ministrations. “No.”
Leona growled. “What are you doing? What’s the point? What use is all this?!” Feverish, Leona searched Ruggie’s face to find nothing save for a distant gaze—no grimace, no look of fear, disgust, pity—it was as if the chess pieces were all knocked off the board and any semblance of strategy or advantage or control went away with the wind…
Helpless. He was feeling helpless.
So Leona doubled down, grabbing Ruggie’s wrist, “You want to feel good about yourself, is that it?” Say something, Leona was too close to pleading, fucking SAY SOMETHING. “Me, the great Savanaclaw housewarden writhing uselessly on the ground and needing YOU to tend to his wounds! How absolutely gratifying for you, how smug you must be—”
“How could you?” Ruggie interrupted, piercing. “How could you even think of me like that?”
Finally. “What, were you expecting something different?” Leona smirked haughtily.
Ruggie looked on with a shaky gaze as if he was physically hurt, and the tightness in Leona’s throat worsened.
Ruggie grit his teeth, yanking his wrist out of Leona’s grip. “You’re sick, curled-up-on-the-damn-floor sick, but because of some stupid stubborn PRIDE, you think I—” Ruggie stopped himself, shooting up off the grass to yell, “It’s infuriating! I should be infuriated! I should’ve just…!”
He trailed off, looking down at everything around him; the med-kit messily strewn about the flooring, the barely-filled glass of water… and Leona, whose gaze refused to truly meet Ruggie’s eyes.
“I should’ve left,” Ruggie finally said.
“You think?”
Ruggie shook his head. “I should’ve left a long time ago.”
Oh.
Leona moved to say, “Ruggie—”
The hyena interjected, “But I’m still here. And for what? I do all this for you, I help you with everything you need help with, and for what? I’ve been doing something over and over and OVER, expecting a different result like an insane person—and the worst thing is! I don’t even have an answer for you! It won’t ever be what you want to hear!”
For the first time in a while, Leona didn’t know how to respond. Ruggie ruffled his hair in frustration, looking off into the distance.
“If I stayed with you, could you really say that this wouldn’t happen again?”
Leona, still, couldn’t respond.
Ruggie’s shoulders dropped. “When we’re both done using each other,” Ruggie carefully said, “would there even be anything left?”
“Really?” Leona asked, genuinely surprised. “You’re really asking me that?”
Ruggie clicked his tongue. “…Fine. I’m going. Fuck you, asshole.”
“It’s a stupid question,” Leona reasoned, watching him leave.
“For a stupid clown of a housewarden, I’m aware.”
Leona rushed to say, “No, because it’s…” But Ruggie kept on walking away. Leona struggled to get up. “Dumbass, don’t—” go. “Listen to me, damn it, stop moving.”
At Ruggie’s continued footsteps, Leona breathed in and desperately called out, “…Please, Ruggie.”
Finally, Ruggie stopped.
“What?” he asked, back towards Leona. “What the hell do you want from me?”
“It's a ridiculous question, because it’s obvious that nothing would change. You’d still be naggin’ me ‘til my ears fall off, and I’d still be tryna sleep the day away. All that ‘using each other’ shit is just a part of it.” Leona hesitated, then added, “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not, Ruggie.”
Ruggie let out a quiet sigh. “I’m halfway out the door. Don’t think I’m stuck anywhere.”
The retort Leona had prepared died in his throat the moment Ruggie choked on those last words.
Whatever grip Leona desperately tried to hold for the entire conversation, waiting for the opportunity to emerge victorious, waiting for the opportunity for it all to return back to being a predictable game of power… is gone.
There was nothing to protect against. There was nothing to win.
And all he had to show for it was the departure of one of the only people closest to him.
Leona cleared his throat. “I’m… sorry,” he said, instead of anything arrogant or smart or callous.
Ruggie was as surprised at the words as Leona was.
So Leona continued, “You know I don’t do well with,” he paused, “all of this, but I meant what I said. I… appreciate what you’ve done, too. It’s sure made my life a lot easier.”
At a loss for words, Leona grabbed the cup that was clumsily filled with water and tipped it back. And, lo and behold, his throat was all the more better for it. It was a wonder why he hadn’t drank it before. It was a wonder why he hadn’t realized the depth of Ruggie’s help, really.
…But, it wasn’t a wonder.
Leona Kingscholar, second prince of the Sunset Savanna, knew exactly why.
So, he kept his gaze in the cup. “I don’t know why you believe in me,” Leona said, the most sincere he’s ever been, “but you’re a better person than me by a mile for it.”
This time, the two of them both let the silence hang.
And slowly—
Silently—
Ruggie walked back to him, sitting down across from Leona.
With a deep breath in, Ruggie cleared his throat. “So you admit I’m better than you.”
What? That’s the takeaway? “Not sayin’ it again,” Leona responded, clipped.
“In Spelldrive,” Ruggie started, “I’m persistent, my stamina’s through the charts, and I go for the ball no matter what, right? Naturally, that means—”
“Ruggie. You’re not better than me at Spelldrive.”
“Well, I am better. It’s your words.”
“Yeah,” Leona said, a bit irritated, “my words that you deliberately misinterpreted…”
Leona trailed off as Ruggie looked on at him meaningfully, expecting something.
What, was it something I said—
…Ah.
Ruggie let out a soft laugh. “Doesn’t feel good to have your words twisted, right? Like, I’m not out to get you all the time. I’ve got plenty of other stuff to worry about, man,” he said. “Thanks for apologizing, too. Means a lot.”
Then he hesitated, soon adding, “And bsides, I’ve been told that friends believe in each other.”
Leona huffed, amused. “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said. “Humour your friend, the sick man, and get some grub for the both of us, will ya?”
Ruggie rolled his eyes, getting up. “Sure, sure.”
And so, a day passed.
“Yo, Ruggie,” Leona called out. “Catch.”
Ruggie caught the satchel midair. “What’s this?”
“Coupons. From the store you like.”
Ruggie furrowed his eyebrows at it. “Why?”
“It’s for yesterday.” Then, Leona hesitated, and added, “And I wanted to say that I’m sorry again.”
Ruggie blinked. “Okay.”
“I’ll try to be better.”
“Alright.”
“I know you just want the best for me, so I’ll… start wanting… the best for you.”
“Mm.”
Leona and Ruggie stood there, awkwardly.
“Y’know, I appreciate it, but,” Ruggie began, “I think it’d be great if we just went back to how we’d normally act. Just, not as hostile.”
Quietly, Leona let out a sigh of relief. “Sounds good.”
“‘Course. All my ideas are good.”
“Are they now?”
“You know it,” Ruggie said. “Like, my idea about the fact that you haven’t attended to any of your housewarden duties—”
Leona blinked innocently, letting out a fake cough. “Wow, really? Pushin’ all the work onto a sick man?”
Ruggie rolled his eyes. “Sick, my ass. If you’re well enough to be like this, then do your JOB, man.”
Leona grinned. “Oh, hm, I can’t hear all of a sudden,” he said, starting to walk away. “Huh, my legs are takin’ me to the greenhouse of its own volition—I can’t seem to stop it, oh, no.”
“LEONA! GET BACK HERE!!”