14. Open the Door

SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

“Open this fucking door, Svoboda! Now!”

“Do you even want to talk to him now?” Tariq asked, standing with both hands on his waist. He noticed Filip's posture was a bit rigid, his eyes facing the door that Honza was slamming into so hard that it was shaking.

"Well...eh..."

"Stay in the bathing chamber."

The boy nodded, grabbing one of his bottles of pills on his way.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! OPEN THIS BLOODY D-"

Honza was ejected into the room when Tariq opened the door without warning. Instead of slamming into the wood again, Honza's open hand went right onto the prince's half-naked chest, unintentionally grabbing the dark-haired boy's right pectoral as he tried to regain his balance.

"So all this drama about my blood is because you're into dark-skinned men, huh? *Typical.*"

Dvorák went pale, his face contorting into a mask of humiliation. He recomposed himself, frowning and gritting his teeth.

"Get out of my way, Gypsy Prince!" Honza threw himself into Tariq, trying to invade the room, but the prince repelled him with his right arm. The son of the dean wavered, leaning against the wall, livid with outrage.

"WHY ARE YOU HIDING HIM?!"

"I'm not hiding anyone, mate. There’s no one here other than me," Tariq said, passing his hand through his hair and pushing it all back. "Also, stop yelling. You're getting on my nerves."

Honza stood there panting, staring at the prince for a short moment.

"Where is he?"

"Who?"

"YOU KNOW WHO, YOU DAMN N*GGER!"

"All I know is that I want to put my bowels to work, and you're holding me up, *sweetheart*. So unless you're interested in my excrement, have a good afternoon," Tariq said, slamming the door in Honza's face.

The son of the dean continued banging on the door and demanding answers for several minutes, then went silent. The sound of his boots stomping on the floor, disappearing towards the east, were the sign he was gone.

*That klazomaniac deuce is really clingy, huh? Trying to drag the other one to hell with him...*

The prince went into the bathing chambers, already unbuttoning his pants. He could see Filip still sitting on a velvet chesterfield bench, trying to hide his bottle of pills in his robe.

"T-These are just supplements!"

*No, they're not...*

"He's gone."

"Oh. I see."

The prince took off his shirt, now completely naked, and got into the bathtub.

Given the size of the building, the university dependencies were built with an indoor plumbing and latrine system, so the boys could clean and relieve themselves at any time without having to wait for servants.

Tariq had already warmed the water in the stone oven and filled the bathtub before Filip's arrival. He sank in, resting his neck against the edge and splashing water onto his shoulders.

*It would be better if the water wasn't so tepid... It’s all because of that asshole.*

Looking around the room, the prince noticed Filip still on the bench, staring directly at his body.

"Impressed?"

"Very much, actually. What do you do?"

“Oh, please…” Tariq laughed

"Really, I mean... How did you get so muscular?"

Still smiling, the prince shrugged, sinking into the water a little more.

"Well...I exercise a lot, eat a lot, and sleep a lot, too..."

"Oh, I see. I bet you're popular with women."

*Not only with women...*

"Modesty aside, my ladies never complain."

Filip laughed, shaking his head.

"Must be nice..." He stared down at his hands, specifically at the bottle of pills.

Tariq noticed the other boy's smile fade away and his eyes glaze over. His eyebrows pulled together as if he was about to cry.

*I have a feeling there’s a Pandora's box there, just waiting to be opened...*

The prince swallowed, staring down at his hands, submerged in the water and fragrances. He didn't want to know about any of this. It would be better to change the subject.

All of a sudden, his whole body went rigid in alarm. His mind was assaulted by only one thought.

"Have you seen him?"

Svoboda was shaken from his reverie.

"Excuse me?"

"Selden.. Do you know how he is?"

"N-No, I mean... I just took him to the bed, then I went after his things."

"Take me to the infirmary,” Tariq said, standing up in a flash, splashing water onto the black and white chessboard tiles, and into Filip's face.

"Eeeeeek! Are you ill?"

"I want to see him."

***

When Joseph woke up, the sun was already starting to set, engulfing the infirmary in the intense orange hues of crepuscule. Despite the pain in his right foot and injured arm, his senses were alert again and his mind was clear.

The boy sat up, supporting himself with his left arm. As he leaned against the pillows, he felt something cold in his left hand.

There was a key there. It was nearly two inches long and golden, with a Star of David on the end and a blue gem encrusted in the middle.

"Oh! Is it really made of gold?" Joseph said, feeling its weight and holding it up to the light. The yellow glint of the metal stained his white sheets. "More importantly, I wonder what this key is supposed to open…?"

He kept turning the object over in his hand, trying to figure out why he, a patient in the infirmary, would have such a thing.

"That's right! Mr. Brenner came to visit me earlier. He also said he had a gift for me..." he said, scratching his hair. "Maybe this key is related to it in some way..."

*But wait... How did he know I was at the infirmary?*

The boy turned his head, looking out the window behind him where some robins were chirping agitatedly in the old oak.

*Well, maybe he came thinking I was in classes, like I was supposed to be. Then someone told him I had had an accident and gone to the infirmary.*

Joseph shrugged. He allowed himself a bit of happiness because someone had come to see him, after all.

"Mr. Selden? Are you awake?"

The boy startled when he saw the chief nurse, Mrs. Weber, approaching from the opposite ward.

She for sure would examine the nightstand at least twice a day to clean it, and he was dressed in only his shirt, so he just tucked the key against his splint.

"H-Hello, Mrs. Weber!"

"Oh, lad, you slept through the morning and the afternoon. You must be starving."

In fact, he wasn't very hungry, but his bladder felt like it was about to explode.

"Er... I need to...relieve myself, before anything else."

“Of course! Let me get a bedpan for you.”

"N-No! I... I appreciate it, Mrs. Weber, b-but I can walk to the water closet."

"It's too far and your foot is injured! Also, you can't wet your splint, for the plaster is still drying."

She was right. He would have to limp and jump on his left foot to get there, but still… It would be far better than the embarrassment of using the bedpan.

"Please, let me try..."

"Sit down now and pull your shirt up, lad..."

"Eeeeehh... W-wait! WAIT!"

The older woman had already lifted up Joseph's shirt, exposing him to anyone who might be in the room.

And indeed, the doctor noticed as he blushed as pink as a peach, two people were standing in silent terror right beside his bed, watching as Mrs. Weber grabbed his member to direct it towards the bedpan.

It was Filip Svoboda and Prince Tariq.

***

Joseph ate his lunch off of a bed tray, eyes glued to the bowl of pea and carrot soup, his cheeks still on fire.

He didn’t exactly have much of an appetite, but it was all he could do to keep himself busy and try to forget a bit about the shame.

Svoboda grew as silent as a fart in a church and left when Joseph was forced to put all his rhetoric lessons to use in order to convince Mrs. Weber that he didn't want to defecate as well.

The prince was still there, however. He sat on a raw wood chair near Joseph's bed, staring at him.

*I'm eating. Stop ogling me, for God's sake!*

When the young doctor was finished, he put his plates and bowl aside on the nightstand. Then he cleaned his mouth with a napkin, straightening his back to gather what remained of his dignity.

"You said you wanted to speak to me, Your Highness."

The prince nodded, finally taking his eyes off of the doctor and staring out the window. He swallowed before his eyes found Joseph’s again.

"I came...to see you," he said, pausing for a few seconds. "I...apologise, for all the pain and trouble I caused you."

The prince spoke in a very low voice, staring straight into the doctor's eyes. His frown, filled with pity and worry, broke into a scant smile.

"It pleases me to see you looking so much healthier. Save for the arm, of course." he said, nodding at Joseph's splint.

Joseph felt his cheeks warming up again, but this time it was not due to embarrassment. He allowed himself to smile, too.

"T-Thank you for your consideration, Your Highness."

The prince nodded and stood up, dragging his chair closer to Joseph's bed. He sat right beside the doctor, facing him, and took away the bed tray he had used for his meal. The doctor shivered when the prince moved his body closer to Joseph's. He was so close he could've leaned his head on the doctor's shoulder, if he wanted to.

"I didn't mean to cause you any...distress that day, at your house. It's not my intention to meddle in your business."

He spoke these words in a whisper, right against Joseph's ear. Mrs. Weber had left to fill out some documents and had asked the prince to keep an eye on Joseph. They were alone.

The doctor felt the prince's breath on his neck. He swallowed, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

"I just...don't want to see you in such a helpless state as the one I found you in back in the forest, Doctor."

Prince Tariq raised his head, his face now at the same level as Joseph's, their noses almost touching. His amber eyes scanned his face, his lips...before finding their way back to the young doctor's eyes.

"Forgive me."

Joseph couldn't speak. His mouth was open, but his mind was overwhelmed with a swirl of thoughts. Even more overwhelming was the fact that the prince's gaze didn't give him any room to react. His eyes kept inspecting him hungrily… Searching through his body, searching through his soul...

Joseph remembered that the prince was the one who had rescued him and taken care of his injuries. If it weren't for him, he might have collapsed in the forest and God knows how long he would've been out there and who might have found him, if anyone ever did.

But it was also the prince who had broken his arm...

*Because of Dvorák...*

Joseph grew dizzy trying to navigate through his sea of thoughts.

*Is he ASKING me to forgive him, or is he ORDERING me to?*

Joseph frowned and swallowed. He closed his eyes, turning his head towards the window as if the dying sun could save him from the spell that the prince's golden eyes had cast upon him. The prince still sat there, waiting for an answer. Joseph's cheeks were as hot as embers, and his shaky hands grasped at his blankets as he tried to cover his torso.

Yet, he could feel the prince's eyes stripping him… Of his clothes... His certainties... His internal walls...

Still waiting for his answer...

*M-My God... What is he doing to me?*

*********

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