Vermillion eyes clash with Vermillion eyes. Both filled with surprise--at first. Soon, however, their emotions diverge; one growing somber while the other pair turns to befuddlement.
The one thing that Julius has been hoping to do these last few weeks, other than not coughing out blood and growing anemic due to his depleted health, was to punch Nazareth Everett Odum across the face (and maybe give him a black eye for breaking their friendship off with a fucking letter.)
If Thomas and Mother had not insisted for him to stay in bed and treated him like he was going to keel over and die, he would have rushed to the academy the moment he received the bastard's letter and pulverized him.
"Odum," Julius glared, stepping forward with a glower.
The other boy had the audacity to crack a smile, although it looked nervous.
Nervous to see him? That bloody fucker...
Julius felt his mood plunge further, his hand unconsciously rolling into a fist in his grievance.
"Julius... how are you?"
As if the awkwardness wasn't enough, Nazareth had decided to ask about his well-being like nothing was wrong. Like the world was alright, and that a year's worth of friendship and secrets and bonding ties was child's play.
"Fine" He crossed his arms. "And you?" The question was just for the sake of formality. Julius was too pissed to care two shits.
"It's been good--"
"I imagine," He cuts the boy off, snapping in a way that he hadn't intended, though the haze of irrationality was just about to set in as he finally looked at Nazareth's stupid face. "After all," He cast an ugly smile at the other, "you finally unshackled yourself from lesser people. Afraid we'll bring you down, huh? Now that you and your brother are the best of friends..."
It was a jab.
The rumors that the scummy trouble-making bastard of the Odum House has somehow reconciled his relationship with his younger brother had reached his ears. Now that Nazareth seemingly becomes "a part" of his family, he tosses away the "shady" acquaintances he's acquired over the years to become a better person.
What bullshit. Julius didn't think it was true until that letter came...
There was a lingering pause in the air.
The look on Nazareth's face was tepid, lukewarm at best. Julius could see the way his eyes turned soft as he looked at him. As if he were an animal needing to be placated. What right did he have for treating him in this manner? Like some wise old man?
And then, what comes out of that mouth was:
"I never meant to hurt you."
Which made Julius feel even more shitty because Nazareth has an expression on his face that he has never seen before.
He didn't want to be pulled in by that look. The way Nazareth looked at him, like a tarantula with particularly big and round eyes, in need of care. It was all a trap to drag him into his web of lies. A trap.
And yet--
"Don't look at me like that." He snaps. "You have no right to look at me like that. Like... like a victim." He practically stutters. Like a pathetic child.
"Julius, please--" The idiot is practically begging.
"You hurt us."
There.
That's what he wanted to say. That Lester and Elliot were feeling.
Elliot might never admit it. He would scream himself hoarse at Nazareth and then go and stew, but he would never admit his true feelings about the matter other than the surface of his hurt.
Meanwhile, Lester would forgive. Sweet, young Lester. Trying so hard to be a part of the nobility and seeing Nazareth as an older brother. Nazareth had taken the boy under his wings, cared for him as best as he could while he could never do the same for his own brother.
That boy would forgive him in a heartbeat. Might not even say much about it other than that he was sad at Nazareth's actions.
But Julius was different. He was far more articulate than either of them. He was the oldest in the group, and therefore, he knew how to care and how to process his own feelings.
He may not have the luxury of moving around and going to their meetings, but he knew. He still kept an eye on each of them, because he cared, despite the walls he had built.
And all he can say, all that he can summarize from this little drama with the letters and Nazareth, was the hurt.
He had hurt them dearly. He had. This was fact that couldn't be erased. It was an action etched into their minds.
"You hurt us, Nazareth." Julius reiterates, stepping closer as the rage slides off him. What covers him instead was a whirl of emotions he has been feeling since that day.
"You tossed us aside like nothing, and it hurt. It stung. Deeply and irrevocably. That's what you did with your letters."
"I..."
He gave Nazareth the chance to speak, but for once, the great Nazareth Odum was speechless. He seemed like he knew what to say for everything as of late, but now he is speechless.
Julius doesn't even know how he should feel about that.
Instead, he turns to the florist. Graham, was it?
"I want Asphodels. The biggest blooms you have."
Sutton had watched the atmosphere grow tense with apprehension. For a moment, he was worried that the boy who just walked in would faint with anger. What relationship does he have with his dear customer?
Neo purses his lips as he and Julius stand awkwardly a fair distance in this tiny flower shop. The silence was overbearing and filled with many unspoken words. He knows Julius, and despite the stoic mask and icy front, the other boy was beyond angry with him and... betrayed.
He cannot believe they were going to have this confrontation in Sutton's shop, but...
Biting the bullet, Neo snaps his head to Julius and speaks.
"Julius, listen--"
"You had your chance to speak."
"Please. Julius--"
Julius finds that his patience has snapped. He glowers at Nazareth with all the pent up anger he's been experiencing these last few weeks. He was about to open his mouth to yell again, but before he could, he felt his throat clench before a wet cough sounded.
"Master Julius!"
Thomas comes to his aid, a handkerchief already prepared at hand.
Julius' coughing fit continues.
"Julius...? Julius!"
The doctor inside him snaps to attention. He wasn't necessarily trained in medical aid, but he knew how to diagnose an ailment and produce solutions.
Julius was struggling against himself. And it looked like he was coughing blood.
It dribbled out of his mouth with every cough, like a spurting faucet that only knew how to trickle.
"Julius..." Neo takes a step forward, trying to get closer to examine the other, worried eyes colliding with wearied ones.
Julius, of course, takes three steps back and avoids Neo like he was a plague.
"Don't touch me..."
"I just want to help." Neo insists.
"Your help is unwanted," Julius spits, his voice was rather calm, if not slightly haggard.
Neo knew no other approach to help, to do something. Whether it was to help alleviate his own guilt at practically abandoning the other without a thought, he can only stew on it later. For now, though, his instincts desire him to fix whatever is hurting Julius.
He was back. This is his life now. He could do something for once so no one has to suffer for what he did or suffer more for what he couldn't do. He had the abilities, so it was his duty to help.
Not only for his own repentance but as a doctor. A pharmaceutical doctor, who knew medicine.
But if Julius won't listen to Neo, then who else will he listen to?
It takes him a moment to deliberate, but he knows what can help and what can't. It's been nearly forty years, but it doesn't mean he has forgotten. Not really. He just needs to job his memory, get back into the game.
Because, Neo realized with abrupt clarity, sometimes it doesn't matter whether he is Neo or Nazareth, it doesn't matter if he became wiser or more foolish, because, at the end of the day, these boys were still children, and he was not a child.
Not really.
It doesn't give him higher moral grounds, though. He was never supposed to be perfect. He had been flawed. The only difference now is the slow, crawling integration into the modern world that made him self-realize. He had forty years, to make something of himself and change.
But that didn't mean he shed every bit of himself that made him to that point.
He was just given an opportunity, and that politically conniving part of him grasped that chance desperately.
To be someone that's good, when those around him weren't given the same chance as he was.
That small wicked part of him that he constantly tries to push down assures him that it's there. That he can still go on and make choices, carefully, tepidly, and do some good.
And being a once-villain meant he can't condemn those who have chosen the same path he did. This second chance was a gods-given gift, but it took him dying to end up to this point.
He can feel that part of himself unfurl in pleasure, as Neo allows himself to redon the same composure he once wore like a second skin. He wasn't sure if he should be frightened by how old habits can be re-indulged, but for now, his focus was on Julius.
Julius, the villain. The heir of the Elysium Family. Aurelion's competitor in the Court of Rhine. A shady noble.
People can think all they want, allow the rumors to spread, but Neo is reminded of something else.
Julius, who is sick.
Julius, who might have also died, or ended up in prison, or exiled. He doesn't know.
Julius, his friend.
Someone who had offered him a way to live a little longer--it was a dim light, but still, a little light that had made that catatonic chaos swirling in his mind more bearable to live with.
Perhaps he hadn't been saved. Not really. There was an attempt, but an attempt was better than nothing.
Here's the thing, though. He's making the attempt this time, he's the one reaching out. He's the one who knows their fates if they don't change.
"Master!"
The sound of a body hitting the ground brought him from his thoughts with a sick realization.
"... Julius?"
It was Rainier, who had been standing there, that got into action. He approached the fallen Julius, kneeling down and rolling him over. He had fainted, most likely due to exhaustion.
Rainier checks for a breath. He checks for a pulse.
Blood continues to leak from Julius's mouth.
"One bouquet of Asphodels--"
Sutton re-entered the front of the store at the worse time possible. He makes a strangled noise before frantically walking over.
"What's wrong with him?! Is he alright? Why is there so much blood?!"
---
Julius groaned, feeling his head pounding. He tried to open his eyes, but the setting sun shining from... from... the window? It made his headache worse.
The sound of curtains closing had him snapping his eyes open, the usual paranoia setting in like a natural instinct.
In the dim-lit and too-small--but cozy-looking--bedroom, he sees a figure approaching him with a cup of water.
Julius squinted slightly and saw--
"... Nazareth?"
He grimaced slightly. His voice sounded like sandpaper, and it hurt.
As the other boy got closer, Julius noticed that his hair was let down. The red ribbon that bounded his hair was tied to his wrist.
"Julius?"
Nazareth stared at him, two bright Vermillion eyes gazing at him, observing his features. Then, he sighs. "Oh, thank the gods you're alright. You lost a lot of blood."
Julius sees him bring a bowl of water and a white handkerchief from a table beside the bed.
"... What time is it...?"
"Dust. Near evening. You were out for quite some time, Julius. It had us all worried," Nazareth dipped the handkerchief into the water, squeezing the water out, and then reached it out to him. "Here, clean your face. I'll bring you some water and some pain medications. Do you need something for the blood loss? I'll be right back."
Nazareth leaves in a flurry of movement that was quick and concise. Julius has never seen him like this before. It was bewildering, and quite frankly, he was rather stunned.
He wipes his face half-heartedly and sits up from the bed, looking around.
"--Sutton had a willow tree lying around. I turned the bark into tea. Here,"
He was handed a steaming bowl of brown-colored water with a spoon.
What the fuck is this shit?
"Drink it." Nazareth insists with too-wide eyes.
Is he trying to kill me?
His reluctance must have shown on his face because Nazareth had taken the bowl out of his hand and scooped up some of the liquid. He shoves the spoon in front of his face.
"Here, I'll help you drink it."
No, thank you.
"Does Thomas know that you're doing this?"
"He sent a message to your family hours ago when you fainted. And Sutton--that's the florist--can confirm that willow bark has medicinal properties. It's commoner medicine, but it should temporarily relieve you of your ailment."
Julius pursed his lips. Thomas wouldn't let Nazareth anywhere near him if he didn't trust him.
But Nazareth had already broken his trust. So why is he...
"Julius."
He meets the other boy's eyes.
Nazareth's brows were furrowed with... worry?
"Please, Julius. Just drink this for now. You'll feel better if you do."
He shakes his head. No. And looks away.
Nazareth sighs and Julius believes he's about to give up, but--
Clink.
"What are you doing?!"
Oh, that hurt. He frowned at the dry pain in his throat, but his attention was mostly on Nazareth... who took a sip of the brown liquid inside the bowl.
The boy smiles, "See? It's just medicine. Will you drink it now?"
You just used that spoon!
He doesn't quite trust that smile, but...
His shoulders drop in defeat.
Fine.
Julius opens his mouth to assent when he feels the spoon pop into his mouth.
Bitter liquid is shoved down his throat, and his own brows furrow at the taste.
Wait, Nazareth just used that spoon...
Glancing back at the other, he notices the smile had stretched ever so slightly.
"I'll give you a candy once you finish. Can you say 'ah' for me?"
Julius had always been cold, the production of blood in his body never quite able to beat his continuous coughing fits that result in the loss of blood.
But right now, he feels particularly warm as a rush of blood filled his head.
Tch. Even if Nazareth was trying to appease him in this manner, he was still angry. He just doesn't have the energy to argue against this deplorable display of... what the hell is this, anyway? What do you even call this type of treatment?
Whatever, he's still angry. Very much so.
Neo watched Julius turn red. In anger, most likely.
The Elysium heir has always been prideful, so to have someone feed him like... well... there's no dignity to it. Neo regrets telling him to say 'ah.' What was he thinking, treating him like Aurelion?
He sighs to himself.
Let's not worry about that for now.
He shoves another spoonful into Julius' mouth.
His patient has to drink his medicine first.