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“Sit still,” Sebastian ordered, perhaps a touch more sharply than he’d meant to. Ominis made a disgruntled sound but obeyed, closing his eyes as Sebastian carefully dabbed at the skin around his mouth.
Normally, Sebastian would have relished the excuse to touch Ominis' face like this, with such a perfectly legitimate reason. To cradle the sharp line of his jaw, watch pale lashes cast shadows over strong cheekbones. To see the tiny pores in otherwise smooth, light skin; to feel the faint suggestion of stubble beneath his fingertips.
The blood streaming freely from Ominis' nose rather ruined the image. Sebastian sighed under his breath.
“Hold on.”
He stepped out of the cramped toilet cubicle and went to the sink, rinsing and re-wetting the cloth in his hand. When he returned and squeezed himself back inside, Ominis, the stubborn bastard, had lowered his head again. Sebastian caught his chin and tipped his head back, pressing the cloth gently to the bridge of Ominis' nose, pointedly ignoring the affronted noise of protest he made.
The cubicle was far too small. Sebastian stood between Ominis' knees, leaning over him. With Ominis seated, Sebastian had the unusual advantage of being taller.
A sudden, absurd thought struck him — that Ominis' nose might never return to its elegant, straight shape, that it would heal crooked and misshapen. Not that it truly mattered; Sebastian suspected he would find Ominis beautiful regardless. Still, it was a matter of principle. Someone else had taken the liberty of defiling Ominis' fine features, of permanently altering his face without any right to do so.
Sebastian didn’t realise his grip had tightened until Ominis winced slightly and said, “Sebastian, you’re holding too hard.” His voice was thick with congestion.
Sebastian blinked. “Sorry.” He loosened his hold, forcing himself to focus on stopping the bleeding.
The silence in the bathroom was oppressive. He became acutely aware of how close they were; he was practically straddling Ominis in the narrow space. He still didn’t know what had happened. He’d been on his way to the library when Ominis had hurried past him, wand out, his steps quick and erratic. The blood running down his chin and staining his shirt had made Sebastian stop short before half-running after him, as Ominis irritably steered his steps towards the lavatory.
He’d refused to answer when Sebastian demanded to know what had happened — though, to be fair, that might simply have been because blood kept pouring into his mouth. It had taken a fair amount of nagging, and a little physical coercion, to make Ominis stop rinsing his face under cold water and instead back into a cubicle and sit down on the toilet lid.
“How does it feel now?” Sebastian asked after a moment. At least the bleeding had stopped. The nose was red and swollen, and the blood on Ominis' chin had begun to dry.
One might have thought it grotesque: bright red blood still forming speckled trails along his chin and mouth. Sebastian couldn’t help thinking Ominis looked indecently attractive. Like an avenging angel who had carried out his duty, exacted his price. Under the harsh bathroom lighting, his skin appeared even paler, the blood throwing his sharp, elegant features into stark relief.
Ominis frowned. “It feels fine.”
Sebastian hummed. His back was starting to ache from the awkward position, half-leaning over Ominis in the cramped space. He tried to shift, but there was no way to do so without practically sitting in Ominis' lap. He muttered a silent apology to his knees and stayed where he was. Besides, he had something far more important to deal with than finding the optimal position for wiping blood off his friend’s nose.
Sebastian lowered the bloodied cloth. His other hand closed around Ominis' jaw again — this time with a different sort of intention.
“And now…” He turned Ominis' face towards him, searching the whirling grey eyes. “You’re going to tell me who did this.”
Ominis snorted and immediately tried to twist his head away, but Sebastian’s grip was unyielding. His friend’s brows drew together in irritation when he realised Sebastian wasn’t going to let go.
“Nothing. No one. I already told you,” he scoffed. His eyes slid just to the right of Sebastian’s head — a movement Sebastian knew all too well. Ominis' equivalent of refusing to look him in the eye.
“Do you think I’m stupid, Ominis?” Sebastian asked.
Ominis rolled his eyes.
“No,” he drawled. “I think you’re impulsive, irresponsible, and possessed by some strange need to be my avenging angel — with absolutely no concern for, I don’t know, not getting expelled from school?”
Sebastian couldn’t help finding the symmetry in their opinions of one another faintly ironic.
“I’m not that foolish, Ominis,” he scoffed, lifting the cloth again and resuming a half-hearted attempt to dab at the dried blood on Ominis' chin. “I would never get caught badly enough to be expelled.”
Ominis merely rolled his eyes again and fell silent. Sebastian gave him a few more seconds of careful wiping before repeating, more firmly,
“Ominis. What happened.”
“I told you. It was nothing. I walked straight into a suit of armour that moved unexpectedly. I didn’t even have my wand out.”
Sebastian looked at him.
Ominis was good at lying. Genuinely good. He didn’t blush, didn’t stammer, didn’t let his gaze flicker. But Sebastian was not an idiot. He knew Ominis better than anyone, probably better than Ominis knew himself. And —
“I can see that someone punched you square in the nose,” Sebastian said evenly. “Unless you somehow managed to collide face-first with a suit of armour’s elbow at the exact moment it swung, this was done by a person who aimed a blow and followed through.”
Ominis snorted and turned his head away. Sebastian dabbed at his chin once more, then said sharply,
“Ominis.”
No response.
“Ominis, if you don’t tell me who it was, I’m going to walk out there and start hexing people one by one until I find the guilty party.”
Ominis muttered stubbornly, “There are over sixty people in our year. You won’t get very far before a professor catches you.”
Sebastian stilled.
“So it was someone in our year.”
Ominis bit his lip.
Sebastian’s grip tightened just slightly.
“I can put two and two together, Ominis,” he said, voice low. “And even if I have to work my way through our entire year, I already know exactly where I’ll start.”
“Oh?” It was impressive that Ominis could sound so sullen when his nose was clearly aching and his voice slightly congested. “You’ve always thought so highly of yourself.”
“So if I go and look for Leander Prewett right now, he won’t have a bruised fist?”
“... No.” Ominis hesitated. “He’ll have a bruised fist, and he’ll be vomiting slugs in the hospital wing.”
Sebastian looked at Ominis, who still refused to turn his face towards him.
“So it was Prewett?”
Ominis shrugged. That was answer enough. Sebastian set the cloth aside on the toilet roll holder and cupped Ominis' face in his hands, brushing his thumb over Ominis' lower lip, where a bit of blood had dried in the cracked skin.
“I’m going to kill him.”
Ominis looked far more disturbed by Sebastian’s statement than by Sebastian’s hands, which were still stroking his lip.
“You are not. I handled it. Like I said, he’s throwing up slugs right now.”
“Shame he can’t vomit up whatever it is that makes him such a terrible person.”
Ominis shrugged. “One can hope.”
Sebastian was still torn between staying exactly where he was — holding Ominis' face, wiping away the blood he’d missed — and going to find Prewett and bypassing magic entirely in favour of simply ramming his wand into… well.
As if reading Sebastian’s thoughts, Ominis reached up and closed his hand around Sebastian’s right wrist, holding him still. His fingers were cold.
“Sebastian, no.”
“You don’t even know what I was thinking,” Sebastian protested, while vividly imagining Prewett covered head to toe in blisters.
“I know you,” Ominis said. “And I know you were thinking of tracking him down and using a spell that would get you expelled.”
Sebastian scoffed.
“You don’t need to,” Ominis went on. “As I said, I got a hit in as well. Literally — before I drew my wand, I managed to land a punch to his jaw. It sounded like it hurt.”
“What?”
Sebastian let go of Ominis' face and immediately reached for his right hand. Sure enough, the knuckles were slightly red. A ridiculous surge of pride flared in his chest. Before he could think better of it, he lifted Ominis' hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the bruised knuckles. Ominis sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t pull his hand away.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Sebastian huffed.
“Maybe. But I won’t stand by while someone else hurts you.”
Ominis rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were pink now. “I can take care of myself.”
Sebastian’s hands moved on instinct, rising to cup Ominis' face again — but this time the motion was gentler, meant to hold rather than restrain.
“I know you can.” His thumb brushed over Ominis' cheek. His nostrils were still stained red with dried blood. Another smudged mark lingered at the corner of his mouth, one Sebastian had missed.
He leaned down and pressed his lips to Ominis'. Soft, but deliberate. Ominis tasted warm, yielding — and beneath it all, the metallic tang of blood. It shouldn’t have affected Sebastian as much as it did.
He pulled back, licking his lips, almost disappointed when there was no trace of blood on his own tongue. Ominis' eyes were closed, and he kept them shut as Sebastian murmured,
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to take care of you too.”
At last, Ominis opened his eyes. He sighed quietly, though the pleased smile on his lips was unmistakable.
“My knight in shining armour,” he teased. “Do you come charging in on a horse as well?”
“More like flying in on a shitty broom, but I like the image,” Sebastian replied. Ominis laughed, then winced as the movement sent a twinge through his nose. Sebastian leaned in for another kiss, searching eagerly for the taste of blood, parting Ominis' lips with his tongue and slipping into the warmth of his mouth. He settled himself into Ominis' lap — awkward, but workable — and nearly purred in satisfaction when the metallic taste returned.
He briefly considered licking Ominis’ face clean of the blood, but realised it might be a tad too bold. Besides, he had (unfortunately) been thorough with the cloth — there was no more visible blood on Ominis’ chin.
When they parted again, Ominis' cheeks were scarlet. He sounded a little breathless as he said,
“You have no shame.”
Sebastian shrugged. “Maybe not. But I hate the thought that someone else was allowed to touch your face. Only I get to do that.”
Ominis tried to look stern, though Sebastian caught the pleased shiver that ran through him. “Is that so?” he asked, deliberately coy.
Sebastian’s grip on his jaw tightened slightly.
“Yes.”
He kissed him again — quickly, the taste of blood gone now, washed away by Sebastian’s lips and tongue — and stood.
“Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”
“It’s just a nosebleed,” Ominis protested as Sebastian pulled him to his feet. “I’m not mortally wounded.”
Sebastian slid his arms around Ominis' waist and drew him close again.
“Oh, that’s not why I want to get you into bed.”