Chapter Text
He looks in the mirror one last time. His dull eyes stare back at him. His face almost matches the color of his hair. That isn’t great, but this isn’t an event for him. It's for Shen. Kusho had guised it as a networking event, but Usan knows it’s more than that. Shen is Kusho’s heir, the future Eye; he will be sized up by the other leaders of Ionia’s many factions today. Usan is nervous for him. He knows that Shen is as well trained as he is for situations like this, but he doesn’t know if Shen knows what this is all about. Kusho is temperamental as a master and the same as a father. He would let Shen go in blind, only to rebuke him for not knowing later.
He coughs, pain blooming from his chest as his lungs spasm. He has himself to take care of too. But Shen is more important. He quickly puts the finishing touches on his outfit. Nothing is out of place as he looks in the mirror again. He lines his eyes with kohl, paints his lips, and brushes his cheeks with dust. He seems more alive. Now he can finally look for Shen.
Shen had shared a room with him for a couple of years before Kusho had put an end to it. They had been closer before. They were still close of course, but there was no where they could truly be alone without Kusho having some sort of eye on them. Kusho had never said it to him directly when he moved Usan into a different room, but he got the message. He was a danger to whatever plans Kusho had for Shen. Usan just couldn’t stay away from him though. Shen was one of the only people to show him kindness, they were rivals, they lived as brothers for so long, it wasn’t fair of Kusho to take this away from him.
He stands in front of Shen’s door. There isn’t much time, not only because they have to leave soon, but because one of Kusho’s minions has surely seen him and gone back to report. He hesitates anyway. Shen might already know. He probably doesn’t need him. But his hand tilts forward on its own. The door swings open immediately.
Usan sees Shen’s chest first, and cranes his neck to look at his face. He’s sweaty and his cheeks are flushed, but he exhales when he sees Usan. “I thought you were Father,” Shen pulls him into the room, shutting the door after a glance into the hallway. Usan starts to protest about being manhandled, but the warmth from Shen’s hand leaves him quiet.
“What’s going on?” Shen asks him once they’re both sitting on his bed together.
Usan eyes his suit instead of answering. It was handmade for Shen, that much is obvious to him. Small patterns of blue and purple swirls are stitched into the fabric, all the pockets are lined with silk. His tie is similarly detailed, but askew. In fact, much of Shen’s attire is in disarray. “Stay still,” he reaches for him, and fixes everything he can see.
“Thank you,” Shen says when he’s done, and right when Usan is content to sit and stare at the door, Shen has to ruin it.
“You have a little thing over on your- I- could I just fix it for you?”
“Okay,” he scooches closer as Shen’s hand reaches for him. He holds still as the pad of Shen’s thumb gently brushes beneath his eye. He fights to not lean into the contact. If Kusho were to find them like this, if he were to see Shen’s hand on him. But Usan doesn’t move, not even when Shen starts preening his hair with his other hand.
“There,” Shen pulls back, smiling. He doesn’t seem to see the effect he has on Usan. That’s a good thing though. Shen will never know, Kusho will never know, and no one else will ever know. “What did you want to talk about? Unless you only came here to fix my clothes.”
A cold wave washes over him, snapping his focus back into place. It was stupid of him to get distracted, this really isn’t the time. “This party isn’t only about networking,” he trails off.
“I know. Father is looking for a bride for me.”
Usan is struck speechless for a second.
“What?” Shen asks, questioning the look on Usan’s face.
“No he’s not looking for a bride for you. Just- no,” he pauses to get the surprise out of his system. “Kusho is presenting you to the leaders of the other factions. They’re going to-,” tear you apart, “-assess your character.” He pauses, searching for the right words, “you need to be careful Shen. You need to show them what they want to see.”
“And what’s that?”
Shen looks at him like he’s a guiding light and Usan almost wants to tell him off for it. “They want to see the heir. They want to see how you act under pressure, and they want to see how easy it will be to bend you to their whims.” Usan gives him a pointed look, “and they’ll see that you don’t bend; that you won’t entertain that.”
Shen’s voice is light, “Should I act like Father trained me?”
“Yes,” Kusho had drilled manners into both of them.
“Okay, I will,” Shen smiles at him, like Usan is the one in trouble. Usan can’t help but sigh. Shen always cares about others above himself, but the only person Usan does that for is Shen. He considers that it will only be Shen for the rest of his life. The thought doesn’t bother him.
The door opens, halting their conversation. Usan jumps to his feet, Shen rises slower. Kusho observes them for a few seconds before turning his gaze away. “You are dressed acceptably. Come now, we are leaving.”
Shen follows Kusho and Usan walks behind them. Aside from some bows as Kusho passes by, no one pays much attention to them. He notices Shen’s hand worrying the hem of his suit and he reaches out to tap it before Kusho notices. Shen grabs his hand, and for a second Usan thinks he’s going to pull him forward, but Shen just squeezes it and drops it.
Usan finds his mind wandering as he walks through the halls. Kusho is always elegant when he acts. Even through anger, his composure always remains. He is a cruel methodical man. At least to Usan. Kusho never punishes him in front of Shen, and Usan doesn’t want Shen to know either. Usan has his own methods: long sleeves covering bruises, wraps over bandages, and excuses for every wince that have kept him under Shen’s radar. However understanding and kind Shen may be, Usan doesn’t want to make him choose between him and his father. Even now, he swallows back his coughs.
When they finally reach the courtyard, Kusho enters the back of the carriage with them. He starts to talk as the carriage passes through the main gate. “Shen, my son, this will be a great opportunity for you to get familiar with my colleagues. I expect your best behavior.”
“Of course Father.”
They spend the rest of the ride in silence. Shen stares out of the window, Usan can feel the bubbles of anticipation floating off of him, he’s surprised Kusho hasn’t told him to tone it down, but in the same breath, Kusho probably hasn’t noticed. Usan spends his time looking at the floor, not wanting to risk any eye contact with Kusho. Soon enough, they arrive at the venue. This party carries a modern, more Piltoverian, theme. That is the reason Kusho has dressed them into suits, and although they are sleek and elegant, Usan yearns for the freer fabric of traditional Ionian wear. But he doesn’t dare complain, it’s not something he’s willing to get punished over.
“Go on son, I just have something to say to Usan. And tell Yo that he can go get a drink.”
“Yes Father,” Shen slides out of the carriage without a second glance. Kusho calling Shen son so many times had short circuited his brain.
Kusho waits for Shen and Yo to leave and then he suddenly leans in close, too close. Usan feels his shoulders hunch as he tries to make himself as small as possible. He tries to control his face as the purple of Kusho’s eyes meet his. This is what he’s been hoping to avoid the entire trip. It’s fear, plain terror, and he’s angry, furious, that he is scared of this man. “Look at me, Usan,” Kusho grabs his chin, turning his head up. “You will stay away from Shen. Do not talk to him. Do not touch him. Do not even look in his direction. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” he wants to spit in his face, but he has no choice.
“Usan…” Kusho growls.
“Yes Master.”
“Good,” Usan tries not to flinch as Kusho pats his head, a pale imitation to Shen’s touch. Kusho steps out of the carriage with that, and Usan watches as he walks away, his hair billowing in the wind. He can’t stay here forever, he must leave soon, or Kusho will do worse than scold him.
***
The party is being held in a ballroom, complete with a buffet and dance floor. Usan keeps to himself and avoids everyone, but he does grab a plate and eat, just to fit in. He spends his time watching the crowd glitter and laugh. Shen is part of it somewhere, but Usan doesn’t try to look for him. Time passes by and he starts to get comfortable. He isn’t one for large crowds, but being away from the temple and Kusho’s gaze is quite nice. There’s only one thing that would make this better, but Usan is okay by himself. He wouldn’t want Shen to see him coughing away anyway.
He’s fine, he’s perfectly fine, and then he’s not. A surge of nausea hits him, and he rushes for the bathroom. Thankfully it’s empty and he slips into one of the stalls. His knees hit the ground hard as he kneels in front of the toilet. He gags on bile and what little food he has eaten. There’s nothing he can do except wait as his own body tears vile noises out of him. He doesn’t pass out, but he comes close. His awareness flits in and out of focus. One second on his shaky breaths, another on the chill of the floor seeping into his knees.
He eventually feels well enough to try and get off of the ground. He goes slow, waiting for the dizziness to subside before flushing the toilet. He handles the mess on his face efficiently. Toilet paper gets rid of any snot or other particles. Soap and water gets rid of his makeup. The cool water can’t get rid of the pulsing headache though. He hears voices getting louder and louder before the door opens. He hears the timbre of Shen’s voice, the warmth of his laughter. He immediately faces away from the small group that enters.
He’s cold and sweating at the same time, seeing Shen feels like a lifeline, but his help isn’t an option, not when he’s surrounded by others. Odds are that Kusho’s friends hadn’t bothered to mention Usan to their children, and as long as Shen doesn’t act like he knows him, he can sneak by without issue. He uses one of the thin towels in the basket closest to him to dry his face. Then he simply turns and walks past Shen like he isn’t even there. Shen barely gets the, “Us-,” out of his mouth before he’s out the door and mixed into the crowded ballroom once again.
He tries to go back to the table, but he finds it occupied by none other than Kusho and a smattering of high aristocrats. He doesn’t realize until he’s close enough to see their faces, and by then Kusho is already giving him a death glare. A woman in an emerald dress taps Kusho’s arm, gesturing to Usan, and that's when he finally unfreezes and walks in the opposite direction, only to lock eyes with Shen who is walking out of the bathroom. He tries to twist back into the crowd, but Shen manages to follow him anyway. He needs to get farther from Kusho though, so his only escape is one of the balconies surrounding the ballroom. He slides behind a heavy curtain and opens the door to a balcony. He’s lucky enough to find an empty one, but the wind starts to make his chest tight after a few minutes. A sudden bang makes him jump, but it’s only Shen, opening the door quite forcefully.
“Why did you run off like that? I was-,” he stops as his eyes finally register Usan, “are you okay?” Shen’s hands land on his shoulders. Usan is shivering even though it isn’t that cold, and that should be concerning, but the way Shen is looking at him makes his guts twist.
“You need to go back,” he makes to shrug Shen’s hands off of him but he keeps his hold.
“You really don’t look that great, Usan,” Shen pulls him in more to scrutinize his face.
“I’m fine Shen,” he tries to bite with his words, but he sounds unconvincing, even to himself. A bolt of pain behind his eyes makes him wince.
“You’re not. We need to go and get you- why didn’t you say anything?” Shen cradles him closer to his chest. Usan doesn’t know if he means to but the warmth feels nice. “Usan?”
He opens his eyes again. “Kusho,” he says, hoping Shen will understand. If he had claimed sickness, Kusho would have acted kind only to punish him for his weakness later.
“Father? What about him?” Shen sounds concerned now, well more than before.
He can’t explain everything to Shen right now. “Just go back before he notices,” he doesn’t know if all the words come out of his mouth.
“You can’t even stand. You can’t possibly expect me to-”
“I’ll be okay on-,” he coughs hard, something metallic floods his mouth but he swallows it back. Shen’s grip on him tightens. “The ground,” he finishes.
“No, absolutely not. I’ll find you a chair inside.”
He gets a sudden burst of strength, “Kusho cannot see me, no one can see me. Shen I’m telling you-,” he breaks off into another coughing fit. It takes him longer to recover this time. He pants, his energy dissipates, but he needs Shen to understand.
“Okay, okay.” Shen leans him back against the wall. “Just wait for a second.”
Usan opens his mouth, but all that comes out is a small rasp. Shen doesn’t notice and he steps back into the ballroom. The sky seems to spin around him as Usan attempts to balance against the wall. He probably looks atrocious right now. Kusho would- he would- Usan shuts the thought down before it can process. Shen was careful when he needed to be. Everything would be fine.
The balcony door slides open as Shen appears once more. This time with a chair. He sets it down and guides Usan to sit. Then he takes his jacket off and drapes it over Usan like a blanket. He protests, if Kusho were to question Shen about where his jacket is, that would be the end of Usan. Shen ignores his concerns, “this is the only way I’m going to leave you here, okay?”
Usan glares at him but he still replies with an affirmative, “fine.”
Shen’s face softens, he opens his mouth, but then closes it again. He gives Usan an unreadable look and then steps back into the party once again.
Usan slides the balcony door shut, locking it and collapsing back into his chair before the dark spots in his vision take over completely. All he has to do now is wait for Shen to come back to get him. He tries his best to keep his eyes open, but eventually they slide close, unwilling to listen to him.
“Usan!” His cheek stings as Shen stares at him with tears in his eyes. “Thank the spirits,” Shen gasps. His thumb strokes Usan’s reddened cheek. “I’m sorry I hit you, I didn’t know how else to wake you up.”
“S’ okay,” he can still barely keep his eyes focused. The only thing grounding him is Shen’s warmth.
Shen sniffs, “the party is pretty much over. Father sent me to find you, but he’s going in the carriage of another family.”
That’s good, Kusho won’t see him until tomorrow at least. He makes to get up, but he instantly falls forward, only to get caught by Shen’s waiting arms. “I’m fine,” he says. Shen needs to let go of him if he wants them to be able to walk out of here.
Then Shen bends over and Usan is about to ask him what’s wrong when he feels pressure on his back and knees. A breeze whistles into his ears as Shen picks him up in one fluid motion, like he weighs nothing. In the same moment his head tilts back too fast and his vision blacks out.
Color flashes behind his eyelids as he wakes up again. He hears Shen’s footsteps slosh in the damp grass, and he feels the beat of his pulse from where his head is curled into Shen’s neck. He presses his head against Shen more, trying to let him know that he’s still here, trying to get that concerned expression off his face.
Shen stops for a second, “Usan?”
“Sorry,” he tries to say, but it comes out like a whine and he turns his face back into Shen’s neck so he can’t see him.
“You don’t have to-,” Shen trails off as he continues walking. “It’s okay, nothing happened,” he says a few seconds later. Usan doesn’t try to speak again, for fear of what could come out of his mouth.
Usan still has enough strength to pull himself into the carriage. Shen climbs in beside him, and instantly becomes a support for Usan’s weight. Their driver, Yo, takes them back to the temple. They sneak in through a back entrance. Shen supports most of Usan’s weight as they walk inside and then he carries him up the stairs once they’re past anyone on guard duty.
He is half-asleep in Shen’s arms and he registers being put down, but he has no idea where he is. “I think you should change out of those before you sleep.” Usan tries to shake off the force dragging his eyelids down and he sits up. “Here,” Shen places a loose gray sleeping tunic onto his lap.
“Thank you,” Usan mutters, but he can’t stave off the coughing fit that comes after.
He sees Shen’s hand reaching for him out of the corner of his eye, but he retracts it when Usan looks up. “I’ll get you something from the infirmary, I’m sure some of the healers are still awake.” Usan blinks and he’s gone. He might as well change then.
The tunic is loose and soft and warm and the urge to drift off is overwhelming, but Usan folds his shirt and hangs his suit jacket and pants on a hanger, he still had enough sense to avoid wrinkling them. He wants to wait for Shen to come back. He lays down and tries his best to keep his eyes open. He finally closes them when he sees Shen in the doorway of the room.