Angelo, for some reason, felt the need to punch him in the face, but he smiled back. “New boyfriend, Yuri? I thought you were dating a tutor.” He addressed Yuri but didn’t take his eyes off Blackheath, which was an extremely ridiculous name.
Yuri seemed to agree because he said, “Francis is a philosophy tutor at All Saints and we are together, yes.”
“I see.” Angelo held out his hand to shake, necessitating that Francis let go of Yuri’s hand. “I’m Angelo Devdan Nicolau Laurent Tanzhir.” He smiled toothily back at the man. “But you can call me Prince Angelo. Or your highness. Either will do.”
Angelo glanced at Yuri, hoping to find him furious, but saw instead that he had gone a strange, pasty white. “He’s a childhood friend, Francis,” Yuri said both quickly and quietly.
“Is he?” Francis gripped Angelo’s hand harder than necessary and shook it. “I’m honored to meet you, your highness,” he said smoothly.
“Likewise,” Angelo said. “I hope you’re treating my boy well.”
The older man’s face froze. “Your boy?” The question was sharp and icy.
“My betrothed. I’m surprised Yuri didn’t tell you. We’ve been betrothed forever. So technically, yes, he’s my boy.” Angelo’s smile widened. “I can live with you borrowing him, but I will expect him returned in excellent condition. I’m sure you understand.”
“I’m sure I don’t have any idea what you mean,” Francis said, both his tone and his eyes icy as fuck. “Come, Euripides. If we don’t hurry, we’ll be late.”
And without as much as a backward glance, Yuri walked away from Angelo.
Angelo knew he should leave well-enough alone, but he couldn’t. What he’d said to Lord Dickface had been true: Yuri was his boy. Never mind that Angelo wasn’t into dick or dudes or any of that. Yuri was his, and Angelo took his responsibilities seriously. It was part of being a royal prince.
As a consequence, he spent all his spare time skulking around St Johns, hoping to catch sight of Yuri. He finally did, but it was several weeks later, and nearing the end of Trinity Term. Angelo divided his time between studying outdoors and hunting for Yuri. He was eating a sandwich and revising for history when he looked up and saw Yuri.
He seemed thinner than he had the last time Angelo had seen him. He’d always been slender, but now he seemed gaunt, and he moved with a curiously stiff gait.
“Yuri!” he called out.
Yuri froze in his tracks and turned around. He looked haggard and exhausted. Angelo’s stomach dropped. This was not right. None of this was right. It was, in fact, entirely wrong.
He seemed to hesitate, then Yuri slowly moved toward where Angelo was seated. “Hello,” he said, his voice dull and lifeless. He wasn’t angry at Angelo. He wasn’t pleased to see him, either. He was just… nothing. His expression was entirely blank.
Angelo stood and went to where Yuri stood. Closer to him, he could see that Yuri’s skin and hair were as dull as his expression. He wasn’t sure what he’d meant to say, but what came out was, “What’s happened to you, princess?”
Yuri shrugged and said nothing.
“I know what you need,” Angelo said, his voice gone low and husky.
“No.” It was a mere whisper of sound and it barely reached Angelo’s ears.
“Yes, I do. You know I do. Come on. This has gone on way too long.”
Angelo grabbed Yuri’s wrist to tug him along until they got to Yuri’s room, where Angelo could start to fix what was wrong in the way Yuri responded to best. When Angelo touched him, Yuri hissed and tried to pull back, but Angelo didn’t let him.
“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Let me see your wrist.”
“No.”
Yuri tried to flinch away but Angelo was already unbuttoning Yuri’s cuff. His wrist was bandaged. “Yuri?”
Yuri said nothing and tried, ineffectually, to tug away from Angelo.
Angelo let that wrist go only to seize the other. He unbuttoned Yuri’s second cuff and saw that wrist was bandaged, too. “Yuri, god, what did you do?”
With Angelo’s grip slackened, Yuri pulled away and took a step back. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Forget you saw it.”
“No. I can’t forget shit like this. You need help, Yuri. You tried to hurt yourself and you need to see a doctor. Or doctors. I’m sure your parents can find one that’s discreet and—”
Yuri let out a low, ugly laugh. “You’re such a prat, Angelo.”
“What?”
A little bit of life seemed to seep into Yuri’s face. “I didn’t do this to myself, you twat. Look.” He unwrapped the bandage from his left wrist and Angelo saw that the skin was raw and pink there, but not cut. “I like it rough,” he said. “You should know that by now. Francis can give me what I need. Everything that I need. Can you?” Yuri waited a beat, but Angelo was too stunned to say a word. “That’s what I thought. Leave me alone, Angelo. Let me have this while I can. Francis has a fiancé and I have you. We both know it isn’t forever. So let me have something before you take away everything. Okay?”
Angelo had no idea how to react to that, and he said nothing as Yuri walked away, winding the bandage back around his wrist. This was what he'd wanted, wasn’t it? Yuri out of his hair until the wedding? Angelo could be with whatever girl he wanted without worrying that Yuri would come and spoil it all. This was good. It was. It had to be.
He walked back to Keble College slowly and kept trying to assure himself that he could stop worrying about Yuri and things were exactly as they should be.
Angelo was having a very exciting afternoon of reading Aristotle’s Politics, translated, thank fuck, because his Greek was absolute shite. Having his mobile ping was like a reprieve from a prison sentence.
Unknown number: Hey, Prince Angel face. I need your help.
Angelo: Who the fuck is this?
Unknown
