The Mist and the Lightning. Part 15. Ви Корс

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      Chapter three

      Kors brought Arel to his room and sat him on the bed. Arel was silent, he lowered his head and covered his stained face with his palms, on which there was paint as well. Kors felt his pain, the way the dye was now stinging in his eyes, like soap had gotten into them. These sensations were so vivid that tear began flowing from Kors’s eyes involuntarily. He was surprised that Arel didn’t twitch, didn’t rub his eyes and didn’t ask for anything. Kors rushed to his bag, where the first-aid kit lay, found an anesthetic and moistened several pieces of gauze with it, having previously cut it with a knife, making something like tampons. He put them to the prince’s eyes, gluing them on top with wide strips of black plaster, feeling how the pain in Arel's eyes passed, releasing him.

      Kors gently ran his hands over his head.

      “You will feel better now. The burning sensation will pass.”

      Kors sat down on the edge of the bed next to Arel and hugged him, Arel didn’t move away. Kors stroked him, caressing and undressing him carefully. He wanted to kiss his prince, but the piercing prevented him, long spikes didn’t allow him to touch Arel’s face. Kors covered them with his palm, pressing the hated jewelry tightly to his chin, which made his lip curl down a little. So he touched Arel’s lip, in which the cork was sticking out.

      It was only a pathetic resemblance of a kiss, but Kors hesitated to pull out the plug. He just shook it slightly, realizing how tightly it was inserted into the incision and fearing that even if he managed to pull it out, he would definitely not be able to insert it back. Kors feared taking out the “decorations” of the Demon, he feared that he would take his actions for willfulness and insubordination. So, kissing awkwardly, Kors tried to console disfigured Arel, who, due to the evil act of Lis, had completely lost his human appearance.

      “Everything will pass,” whispered Kors, gently running his fingers along his back, stroking the painted black wings, gently running his fingernail between the shoulder blades, noticing how Arel involuntarily arched a little in pleasure, apparently without even realizing it. But Kors saw that the prince reacted to his touches, and they were pleasant to him.

      “I think that in a couple of days, vision will be restored,” said Kors, continuing to gently stroke Arel.

      With a black face, a deformed mouth and nose, blinded by the dye, Arel was silent. Accustomed to being mute, he only breathed, opening his mouth, and Kors involuntarily touched the ring in his nose, feeling how deeply and tightly it was thrust in, blocking the air and slightly widening his nostrils. Still holding his jewelry with his hand, Kors continued to gently touch the prince’s face with his mouth. Arel tried to respond to his light and gentle touches, he didn’t succeed either. Kors pulled away in frustration.

      “Arel, do you love me?” He asked quietly. “Answer, you can speak now, don’t be silent.”

      “Yes,” Arel answered simply.

      And Kors gladly hugged him:

      “Forgive me for throwing you away. Forgive me for not appreciating your love,” Kors squeezed him more and more in his arms, “forgive me…”

      Arel pulled back and lay on his side on the bed:

      “It's all in the past,” he said slightly nasally, from behind the ring. “Don't ask for forgiveness, words don't matter, nothing else matters, and I'm not human anymore.”

      “No! You are human! And now I understand what it is like to be rejected, to wear shameful makeup on your face. How did you manage to withstand it all these years? I can't imagine.”

      Arel was silent.

      “And still you were a handsome prince. Always. Everyone called you that.”

      Arel smiled slightly, his spoiled lip getting in his way:

      “Stupid handsome prince,” he said, “that's what they used to call me.