Kingdom For A Heart

Vince spoke about the gang's sinister operations — human trafficking intertwined with political connections — which sent a wave of anger through Ruìsāng. His jaw tightened, the muscles tensing visibly as Vince's words sunk in.

As Vince leaned against him, Ruìsāng instinctively wrapped his arm around him. He exhaled a deep sigh, a release of pent-up tension and concern. “All because you’re here?” he inquired, his voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and protective fervour. “What does your family think of this?”


Vince's response this time wasn’t laced with apologies or denials. Instead, he thanked him, and Ruìsāng's reaction was a gentle smile. “No need for that,” he gently reminded the boy, echoing his earlier sentiment. “You would do the same. You deserve so much more,” he affirmed, his words steeped in sincerity and admiration. Ruìsāng knew that no matter how much he tried, he might never fully match the depth of support Vince could offer. Yet, his resolve to try, to be there for Vince in every possible way, was unwavering.

“So, let’s go home. Let’s crawl into bed, and please, ease my mind by staying, alright?” he continued. In the end, it was Ruìsāng who yearned for Vince's presence.

The revelation that Vince's father might be orchestrating this to 'bringing him back' ignited a dangerous fire within Ruìsāng. The idea of someone manipulating Vince in such a way brought him perilously close to a boiling point. Murderous thoughts flickered in his mind, but he suppressed them, acknowledging Vince's words with a solemn nod.

“You’re not going back to him,” he declared firmly. Gone was the questioning tone; this was a vow, a resolute promise. He remembered asking Vince once about returning, but now, his resolve was unshakable.

Vince's easy admission that he’d do the same was both surprising and heartening to Ruìsāng. It was an odd sensation, having someone enter his life and pledge such commitment so readily. Yet, even more odd was his own willingness to offer the same—and mean every word. Vince's chuckle and promise to stay ignited a warmth in Ruìsāng's chest, a soothing balm that momentarily eased the chill of the lingering curse.

“Good,” Ruìsāng responded with a sense of relief, resuming their walk towards home. He gently urged Vince to follow. Home was where he could finally give in to his deepest instincts—to hug Vince tightly into the night.

But first, he would tend to Vince's wounds.

Vince's assurance that he wouldn't return to his father was met with a solemn nod from Ruìsāng. He understood the weight of this declaration. Ruìsāng silently vowed to himself that he would ensure Vince remained out of his father's reach. A low, approving hum escaped him as he affirmed, “Good.”

Their walk home was mercifully short, and soon they arrived at the doorstep the building. As Ruìsāng held the door open for Vince, he listened to the other's apology for leaving. A gentle shake of his head conveyed his disagreement. “You’re allowed to go outside, Vince. I will not see you locked up here in fear of your father,” he asserted, his voice tinged with anger at the thought. Despite his efforts, he couldn't completely mask the rage simmering beneath his words. The idea of Vince living in fear was intolerable.

With a calm, yet firm tone, Ruìsāng laid out a plan. “We can take precautions. Share your location with me and take Lìeyàn if you leave alone, until you’re confident in your own skills. It is no problem,” he stated. He was ready to entrust her with Vince's safety. After today, he had no doubt she would protect Vince.

Ruìsāng felt a weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He was determined to help, yet uncertain how best to do so. With a supportive hand, he gently guided Vince up the narrow staircase, their steps echoing softly against the walls.

Upon reaching his apartment, Ruìsāng carefully unlocked the door. He assisted Vince in shrugging off his coat with a gentle touch, his movements deliberate and caring. He then gestured towards the couch, inviting Vince to sit down.

The Vulpix and Mawile quietly entered and settled into their respective favourite spots in the room, while Ruìsāng quickly retrieved the first aid kit.

“Let’s make sure none of it gets infected,” Ruìsāng murmured, his voice tinged with a blend of concern and determination. He took a seat next to Vince, positioning himself to get a clear view of the injuries.

“Let me know if it hurts, or if there’s anything I can do to make it better,” he requested as he opened the first aid kit.

With the first aid kit resting on his lap, Ruìsāng's gaze fell upon Vince with a mix of concern and a barely concealed storm of emotions. His brow was furrowed as Vince's quietness tugged at Ruìsāng's heartstrings, stirring a protective instinct. In that moment, he wished for nothing more than to escape the harshness of their reality, to hide in bed for the rest of the day. But first, he had to tend to Vince's wounds.

Unlike when dealing with his own injuries, where he might dismiss the need for care, Ruìsāng meticulously slipped on a sterile glove over his bandaged hand. A wince flickered across his face as the glove snapped tightly around his wrist. He then reached for the antiseptic solution. As he gently dabbed the cotton swab across Vince's wound, his usual stoicism was pierced by a palpable tenderness, each motion deliberate and careful.

The wounds were clean, a small mercy in the aftermath of a sharp blade's work. Ruìsāng's throat tightened as he placed a small, sterile bandage over the cut on Vince's neck.

Turning his attention to the cut behind Vince's ear, Ruìsāng felt a surge of anger boiling within him. The sight of the injury ignited the protective rage. In his mind, retribution was a foregone conclusion – those responsible would pay. His hands, though steady, betrayed the intensity of his emotions as he placed another bandage over the wound.

Lowering the first aid kit, Ruìsāng's gaze softened as he turned back to Vince. “Do you want to lie down?” he asked, his voice a gentle whisper. His hand gently squeezed Vince's arm, a small gesture of reassurance and support.

Ruìsāng sighed softly, laden with empathy, as he heard Vince hiss in pain and then quickly apologise. “It’s okay,” he reassured Vince in a soft, soothing tone. “It’ll be done soon. I’m sorry,” he added, his words laced with regret. He wished he could alleviate the sting caused by the antiseptic, but he knew it was a necessary discomfort.

Having finished with the first aid, Ruìsāng carefully placed the first aid kit back on the table and offered Vince an understanding smile. “Of course. Take all the time you need,” he responded, acknowledging the need for rest and recovery after such a day. Ruìsāng knew all too well the power of sleep, the way it could help one escape, even momentarily, from reality.

“Do you want me to come, or would you rather be alone?” The inquiry was delicately phrased. Ruìsāng was prepared to respect Vince's choice, whether it meant offering solace through his presence or granting him solitude.

Vince's words, suggesting that he didn't want to monopolise Ruìsāng’s attention all day, left Ruìsāng momentarily contemplative. He studied Vince's expression, trying to discern whether Vince was asking for solitude, or perhaps still concerned about being a burden. Ruìsāng, however, didn’t sense the first. Instead, it seemed more like the latter, despite Ruìsāng's reassurances to the contrary. So, with a soft, reassuring smile, Ruìsāng responded.

“Well, I’m tired and I’d like to go back to bed,” he admitted honestly. If it hadn't been for the day's events, he might have still been resting. “So, let me. I’ll take care of other things later today.” Any other tasks, like cleaning up or messaging Kaye, could wait until Vince was resting and he had regained some energy himself.

“And… you can hog my attention any day, bǎobèi. So come,” he added. He then rose from the couch, extending a hand towards Vince to help him up.

Under normal circumstances, Ruìsāng preferred to keep Pokémon out of the bed when he and Vince shared it. But tonight, as Vince motioned for the Flareon to join them, Ruìsāng silently acquiesced. He walked beside Vince and watched with a heavy heart as the boy, looking utterly broken, crawled into bed. In that moment, he vowed to himself that he would find them, no matter the effort required.

Exhaustion was a constant companion to Ruìsāng, usually lulling him into a swift slumber. But that day, he lay awake, eyes closed, his mind a tumult of thoughts and plans. He was acutely aware of Vince's soft sobs beside him, each one a knife twist to his heart. His instinct was to pull Vince close, to offer the solace of his embrace, but he hesitated, respecting the space Vince might need.

Once Vince's breathing evened out in a restless sleep, Ruìsāng slipped out of bed with a quiet determination. In the dim light of the living room, he meticulously penned down crucial details – Vince's whispered name of his assailant’s group, the distinctive mark behind his ear. He mapped out his strategy, pinpointing locations for camera footage and plotting his next steps. A message to work secured his absence until the new year.

After a contemplative shower and tending to his own bandages, Ruìsāng busied himself with tidying the living room. He moved with a purpose, allowing Vince some solitary moments of rest. Once the space was orderly, he returned to the bedroom, this time leaving the door ajar for their Pokémon companions to join. The room transformed into a sanctuary of comfort, a cuddle pile if desired, where Vince could find warmth and solace.

And later, when the time felt right, Ruìsāng gently gathered Vince into his arms, enveloping him in a protective embrace, not letting go again.