Caged Phoenix

Unsteadily, Aster attempted the usually simple act of standing up. As he expected, the old agony assaulted his chest immediately in a great burst of fire. However, this time, he would not be daunted. At the moment, all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but unfortunately, that would have to wait. Gritting his teeth, Aster forced himself to climb over the rim of the bathtub whereupon he fell to his knees on the hard linoleum squares below. Towel in tow, Aster ignored the new pain in his joints and began to dry himself with the towel Zane had so “graciously” left behind.
When will I even be able to walk?
What will ultimately become of me?
Brushing all questions aside, Aster rubbed the moisture out of his hair and dried his skin briskly. In the end, he wrapped the towel around his waist for some sense of modesty before making a dive for the door. He then hauled himself up by the glass doorknob itself. Once he was more or less on his feet, he pushed it open. Zane was waiting on the other side. Alarm lit his former tormentor’s eyes.
“Aster, you’re hurt.”
“Yeah. No thanks to you.” Resolutely, Aster took a step forward even though the effort nearly set him spiraling back towards the ground.
“Aster, you can’t move yet. You need to rest. Here.” Zane reached out his arms.
“Keep your damned hands off of me!” Aster snarled with as much force as he could muster in his weakened state.
“Stop being so prideful,” Zane hissed in response. The former Obelisk Blue took the liberty of grabbing onto him anyway. “I should have realized that you were still to injured to walk on your own. Here. Let me take you to…”
“The furnace?” Aster spit out angrily. “The boat deck?”
“Aster, I have no designs on your life.” Zane’s usually calm voice sounded rather strained, as if overwrought with some powerful emotion. “You can trust me.”
“You were my torturer, and now I’m automatically supposed to trust you. Forgive me if I don’t,” Aster ground out as Zane propelled him down the corridor. The teal-haired youth seemed incapable of leaving his side.
“Why did you stop torturing me?” Aster’s tone had taken on a hardened edge. “Did you run out of methods? Did it begin to bore you?”
“Crisis of conscience,” Zane interjected sharply. Aster couldn’t help but notice how Zane’s hands gripped considerably tighter around both his waist and elbow. “We’re almost there,” he continued needlessly.
“Zane, where are you taking me?”
Right in front of his nose, his former tormentor swung open another door. Then, for the first time in days, Aster found himself being led into a truly comfortable atmosphere that bordered on opulent. A gold carpet greeted his feet. White painted furniture that had been polished to a mirror-sheen surrounded a rather large bed that had been piled with rose-shaded sheets. To complete the illusion of grandeur was a hung crystal chandelier that decked the room with muted sparkles.
Zane felt the necessity to elaborate. “My bedroom.”
Aster turned back to look at his former and seemingly present captor. “What else are you going to do to me?”
“Nothing,” Zane replied firmly. “You will sleep here. You’re near falling over, Phoenix.”
“Don’t use that name,” Aster ordered wearily. “You called me that when you…” The imaginary stench of lemons still lingered in his nostrils.
“I understand.”
Zane was coaxing him to the mattress. Once in reaching distance, Aster immediately flopped his body onto the fluffy bed. He hurt everywhere. Zane, having just released his victim, looked on.
“Sleep, Aster. Sleep.”
Aster did. It mattered little if his same-sex oriented friend was in the room or not. He was that tired. Bathed in an almost heavenly warmth; Aster remained asleep for a good long spell until he was awakened by a sudden creaking as an unmistakable weight was added to the bed.
Zane’s here.
What is he takes me back to that torture chamber?
Aster would die. He would just die. If Zane hadn’t released him when he did, Aster was certain that his will, his mind, and his spirit would have been indistinguishable from broken glass. One more juicy lemon, and Aster knew he would have been begging for death.
He could still kill me. He could kill me right now. He…
Aster’s thoughts ceased as a lean arm looped around his overused chest. Zane’s arm. If that wasn’t bad enough, something else was invading the crook of his neck. Without warning, the top of Aster’s metallic tresses was kissed by the teal-haired youth himself.
What?
If Aster was nervous before, he was outright terrified at present. To be fair, Aster wasn’t usually the type to take any assault lying down. However, he quickly changed his principles in this situation.
The crazy bastard thinks I’m asleep after all. Why ruin it?
Zane sighed contentedly and mercifully retreated to his side of the bed. Aster was left stunned.
Why did he do that? Does he desire me in some sort of sick, twisted way…?
Aster was left feeling nauseous. It wasn’t as optimal situation to be placed in—hurt, immobilized, and trapped on a floating prison with a complex formerly vengeful villain that may end up slaying him anyway. Or, some other depravity.
In spite of the overwhelming negatives in his favor, Aster escaped back into his slumber to blot out the sensation of that fiendish kiss.