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Haku slept on his couch, Citrus’s couch. The cushions smelled of orange and citron, the laundry soap that Citrus had. What Haku had found when he’d arrived, and used on every cloth and towel that wasn’t nailed down.
He awoke in the morning with sunlight streaming in, and the scent of baking wafted in with it. His little heart fluttered, and his lips curled; he forced his face into a pillow both to spite the sunlight and stifle the squee. How could he help it, how... CITRUS!!!! Come on!!!!!!! He was here, with him, in the Castle of the King, he finally the knight he was meant to be....
He could really hardly handle it. All too much, really, he had to remember to breahte... breahte... smell the orange in the pillow... it was beautiful... he was beautiful... Citrus... oh lord.......
He was alright. Take it down a notch. He pulled the pillow down and- smelled the baking auuugh. Citrus was baking, and he would get to taste it, it would be for him and.. Take it down a notch. He sat up, and got up, and looked into the kitchen to see His Majesty sitting upon his throne.
The chairs didn’t match, he only normally needed one. It seemed odd to Haku that Citrus took the simpler one, but Ponta was a simple man. And it was more comfortable. He didn’t use the back anyways, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. And he stared at the floor.
He knew the floor very well.
Haku watched him watch, for a moment, then.. moved past. Went to fix his eyeliner, get himself ready for the performance of the day.
He came back and the oven-timer was beeping. Citrus stared at the floor.
His Majesty must be tired. There was a slight bit of a smell like burning. His Majesty knew the floor very well.
Haku found the oven mitts hung above the stove, with little oranges painted on, and pulled out the tray of muffins. They were beautiful, just perfectly past when you could first call them done. Haku liked that extra taste it gave them. He set them atop the stove, and replaced the potholders, and turned to see if His Majesty might like some tea to wake Him up.
The eyes met him and his heart stopped. The eyes of his king met him, and his heart melted and flowed with his blood. He blushed at the intensity of them, so powerful even as they were so... tired. Haku yearned to see them wake, yearned to be their rest.
The haze, he saw through, a double image his eyes focused. Their back was turned, he.. oven. Heh, oops. Kinda zoned out there. They turned, and looked at him like a hawk. His eyes were sorta greenish-yellow like that, like a hawk’s. His own eyes were green too... right? Yeah, they were. Haku had just pulled the muffins out of the oven. He was smiling down at him. Words, a moment...
“thank you.”
The muffins would have burnt, if Haku hadn’t pulled them out. Even though he... He, liked them underdone, just a touch, Ponta never shortened the cook time. Force of habit. The recipe always said 10 minutes, he did 10 minutes, but he always pulled them out just early. It seemed he... couldn’t, today. Ugh.
He got up heavily, past the one whose mind he’d just exploded. The heart within that thanks, the beautiful simplicity of it, like the piercing roar of lime and fizz upon your tongue! He had heard it so seldom, known it so little, it was still so sweet... From Citrus, a taste he could never tire of.
Ponta looked at the pan on the stove. Just a tad too brown. Fuck. He went to the fridge and grabbed a coke, the strongest thing he had to just... wake him up. Those muffins would work for breakfast, for him and his guest, at least. They’d be fine for that.
But they had to be perfect. Today, every day, what he baked had to be perfect, just the way the one he baked them for liked it. He always did it just a minute or so under, just a moment.
But he looked at the pile of dishes in the sink. The crowning jewel of it, the bowl and paddle from the mixer. Damn it. Damn it. he’d have to wash or mix by hand, if he wanted to make a new batch. And the time was... late. Too late for all that, without.. help.
He had that, at least.
“Haku, can you, uh, give me a hand with the next batch? I... wanna do one more today.”
Haku’s face that had drooped to neutral watching stand at an open fridge too long, shot into absolute joy. “Of course, my liege! For You, anything.”
“awesome. uh... here take, eggs. And, big bowl, from down there.”
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Whoever said it was good to be king was a damn liar.
Anyone who thought that being king would be good, that it’d be nice, that kings were nice; was a liar or a fool. Or, most charitably, they hadn’t been one before.
More likely, they were a greedy egotist, like that whole damn Hocari family. Every one of them. Yeah, he was sorry for what he did Io, what losing did to the guy. But everything else was on him. Screwed up so bad that Cota had to save the kid from himself, damn them.
Cota...
If they’d tried it, tried really being king, they would know it was tiring. Boring. That it meant getting up early, getting home late, going to bed later. They’d know why he tried to leave it, they’d stop trying to call him, email him, send private freaking investigators after him.... they’d leave him alone, if they knew.
The world was better without a bottle-king. At least when it wasn’t him. But without one, in that world without one, that he’d tried to know and see... Things were better.
In that world he’d wanted to secure. Only when it became clear, to HIM at least, that Cota wanted it too; wanted to see his world, without the machinations of corporate greed and waste; did he dare to take the risk. Did he dare, damn him DARE, to think it would be okay. To be... “himself” again. To wear the crown one last time, just so he could throw it off.
No bottle-kings. No bottle-corporations. Only bottleman. That was all they needed.
He thought Cota would understand... Someone would understand.......
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Ponta clawed his way back, just out, just barely, to lucidity. He looked at the one who’d made himself no more than a stand mixer, with less specific tools, at his beck and command. He watched him work, and noticed the way a sidelong glance caught that stare. The way they looked away when they knew he was looking, like a schoolgirl living out a cliche.
“Haku, why are you here.”
He paused. His whole body paused, tensed, like a stick broke behind it in the forest. He turned and smiled at him, his head tilted just-so. Juuust so. “Hah, well, to serve you, my liege. Why else?”
Citrus turned, and took a step towards the wall. The one with the window, there was a bush outside, the glass was dusty. What was his.. full name, he heard the announcers say it.. “Haku Kurenai. Why, are you here.”
Haku held the bowl, kept stirring, and turned. Looked at his liege, framed against the light of the window. His hair, the neon streaks, his frame and silhouette so strong. So regal.
His cheeks flushed, and his head went to mush, he could hardly even think. “I... to... to serve you. My liege. Your Majesty.”
Citrus turned, and those royal eyes were empty. They looked at him like nothing, looked at Haku like nothing; and Haku’s smile faded. Of course he’d seen it before, of course he had, but... the heat of the oven at one side warmed him, but the other carried a chill down his spine.
And Ponta saw what he hoped he would. Something in this silly roleplayer’s head finally clicked, this boy saw him for what he really was. That look of disappointment, would make reality easier. Disappointment always seemed much easier, lately.
He was determined to drive this home. That was one thing his face spoke clearly.
“I’m not who you think I am.”
Haku set the bowl aside, on the counter he backed against. He... was right, but.... “Yes, m'lord, you are... You’re Citrus.”
There was a shake in that voice, like an opponent off-balance. Just before they were defeated. He remembered when that’d made him happy, and stepped closer. “That doesn’t mean what you think it means. I know you can see that.”
He.. was right, Citrus was always right. Except when he... wasn’t the Citrus he knew. When he’d shown up in that frumpy tracksuit, when he’d insisted he make him dinner, and offered to let him crash at his place; like both were nothing. When that place, had been an apartment more run-down than Haku’s room. When he lived there all alone.
When he had a knight already. Even if one who would not bend a knee, and drop to Citrus’s feet like he did now. One who would not supplicate himself for someone who, no matter all that, so deserved it.
“I only see you. My eyes work well, Your Majesty. I see only you.”
Please Haku, c’mon... just open them a little wider... and pick yourself up off the dang floor...
“Look into mine. Like you did before. What do you see?”
Haku stared up into them. How sweet it was, to have his permission this time. “They are... intense. Determined. I feel your royal judgement like a flame.” He hesitated, they both knew that wasn’t all. “But they are... dark. That flame is there, but... without its spark.”
They both knew what that spark was.
It was presumptive, insolent; perverse beyond his wildest imaginings, were in his right mind. But he was not in his right mind. Before him stood Citrus, the Bottle King, power beyond power and glory beyond glory, the king of kings of kings! Haku Kurenai, fool that he was, snatched Citrus’s tight balled hand to his, the hand whose skill had won his heart! Snatched it in his, and held it close, so gently with his two, and... fool that he was, mistake that it may be, he kissed it.
He looked up in panic, to plead his case. “You already are that spark, my liege. Your path of bottle-battling, your path always... you inspire me. You are why I grew strong, my King. To follow you, and... perhaps, now, inspire you. If you miss that spark, the one you gave to me all these years, then... let me pass it back to you. My lord, your Majesty, as I’ve never begged before, let me be your spark!”
It was cliche, yes. This guy did that, then dropped an anime line. But... the words, either through volume or intensity, managed... something. In Citrus. His face, steady while they were said, shifted into a soft smile.
Then a broader one, and then a laugh. Haku’s face went unchanged for the long moment, as Citrus laughed. At what, Haku was scared to know. It felt... good, to hear him laugh. Very good, he wished he could hear it more. Wished he could join him. But knowing it might be at him, clipped the wings he wished to fly on.
Citrus sat down in the chair, smiling, hand still in Haku’s. He crossed his legs, one knee over the other to give the arm somewhere to rest. And his other hand, it held his chin. And he smiled face to face with his ever-willing servant.
“You’re not a spark, Haku. That’d be silly. You’re... a light. Steady, and true. Even if to a fault.” Citrus closed his eyes and his tone wandered off with him. “But nowhere near hot enough to start a flame, y’know? Sorry, I just...”
His head tilted down. Eyes opened. He knew the floor very well. “Maybe in another life. A light like you, would be enough.”
Ponta slouched forward in his chair, chin nearly on his knees. Haku knelt before him, holding his hand, his own trembling gently.
“Sometimes, I think about if it was. If just a light, and one that... shines so bright as you, was enough. Wouldn’t it be nice, huh?”
“I-it.. would be, m-my... Ci... Pon..ta.”
Citrus cracked a smile. “heh, hey, you figured out the name! Good job.” Gently, the balled hand, now loose, was pulled away from the gentle embrace of the two that held it. “Citrus is.. fine, if you want still, though. Sounded like it felt weird to say, like it almost hurt or somethin’, haha.”
It did.
Like throwing up. It tasted like hell in his mouth, but refreshingly. A new understanding, of the hell he was in. And understanding was its own refreshment. Gastric and citric were both types of acid.
“Of course, Lord Citrus.” the knight rose.
Ponta looked at the counter, while Haku washed his hands from the floor that was still dirty despite his best efforts. “oh, should probably get those in, it doesn’t work well if the batter’s out too long. I’ve uh, got the rest of this, Haku. If you wanna... go.”
He’d shifted. Sometime as they’d talked, but certainly now. Gone from Citrus demanding he look in his eyes, to Ponta saying he could go. But... in that pause, he’d caught a glance of Citrus. Saying he could go.
Haku stood for a minute, and looked at him working. Pouring the batter into tins and cups, pouring slowly, and just to a line. Not a line he could see, but it was obvious. Each and every one, just... perfect.
The Ponta he had just spoken to. The foolish blind mess, that he almost couldn’t blame for shredding his heart. Taking such care. He almost wept, he almost screamed, he almost went for his-
He breathed slowly. Smelled the orange in the air.
The laundry would be done, wouldn’t it? And the dishes in the sink, Citrus had needed him because they were dirty. After, he could tend to those. By then it would be time to leave, for the bottle royale.
Citrus, there, would be Citrus again. The king he ought to be.
Haku arrived, behind enemy lines, to make the delivery. Citrus himself could not, though he wished to so; but it’d be too conspicuous.
“King Citrus sends his regards.”
“oh word? Ponta baked? fizz yeah, I forgot breakfast, thanks!”
those words tasted of dirt, from him. Dirt. The cola peasant looked through the basket that he, he and Citrus, prepared. And picked from the side, one of the darker muffins. One of those he had pulled out, on His Majesty’s behalf.
Haku stared in silence at the mistake. The gremlin would realize sooner or later, give him a minute, to find the kind he did like. The kind Citrus made just for him, that-
Cota bit into the darkened muffin, and his face lit up. “woaaah, this is fizzing! it’s, like, kinda like a soda almost or something!”
“You... like it?”
“oh, yeah. Did you make ‘em or something? it’s not how Ponta always does.”
...
“No, it isn’t.”
“Wwell, whatever!” Cota grabs two more burnt muffins, and.. one from that batch they made, that he and Citrus made together. “Tell Ponta I really liked these, whatever y’all did to ‘em, ‘kay dude?”
Haku wished this fool would die. Wished he would drop and fall right now. Please.
“You’re an idiot, Coga Cota. Citrus wants you to join him. You should.” Haku spoke with the most command he could, in his voice. It wasn’t his natural state, to be serious quite like this. He wished Citrus could, but he would in his stead if nessecary.
Cota looked at him, more worried than insulted. “you... okay, dude?”
Haku stared a second more. Then turned, and walked away. “You’re unforgivable. It’s a wonder He offers you salvation at all.”
Cota blinked. Watched him walk away, with a whole basket of Ponta’s awesome orange muffins. And shrugged, then took another bite.