Genre: Angst

Rating: T (mention of adult themes)

Summary: A peek at Ozai and Zhao's relationship during the teenage years. (BT, zero of three criteria reached, RBT, all criteria reached)

Ozai has the bruises again.

How long had the Prince been getting them? It seems like forever. They'd started maybe a year after they met. Zhao can see them ringing his (crush? friend? lover?) Prince's neck like some horrible noose had been twisted around it. Ozai's collared cape lays on the floor by his bed, and his shirt is almost hanging off him. Like it's been ripped. Like someone tried to expose him.

But who? And how? Ozai's the greatest firebender Zhao's ever met - he switches his flame's color as easily as he switches paints. No-one can overpower him. Of that, Zhao's sure. And no-one of the divine Royal Family is really sick enough to do that to one of their own.

Right?

But enough of futile speculation. Even if Zhao figures out who, they're probably out of reach. Zhao and Ozai sometimes have fantasies of running away, finding some place in the outer reaches of the nation or the colonies where they could build a life for themselves with Ozai's paintings and Zhao doing...something, anything, to help them survive, but those are hopeless fancies. There's nothing Zhao can do.

"Ozai," he murmurs, standing over his friend. The heap of misery on the bed stirs, revealing a handsome face and despairing eyes. Somehow the bruises never appear on his face. "Let - let me see your wounds."

It's their routine. Whenever the bruises strike, Zhao tries his best to treat the serious wounds. He slips the damaged shirt off his Prince's damaged body, trying not to aggravate the injuries. Scratches and burns mar where the bruises haven't touched. Ozai's ribs are visible.

"Be gentle," Ozai murmurs. As if he needs to tell him.

There are bandages in the left second drawer down of Ozai's vanity. Zhao fetches them and starts pressing gauze to Ozai's bleeding wounds and slathering aloe on the burns. Tiny gasps of pain are all he hears from the prince as he treats the injuries. As snarky as Ozai could be at other times, when he'd gotten a fresh round of these mysterious injuries, he almost never speaks.

It takes...a while, but Zhao has done all he can. His hands fall from busily rubbing ointment to resting on Ozai's side. Ozai's still despairing. It will take a while for him to get back to his normal self.

He stares for a while, a little of the dark fog in his prince's eyes seeping into his own mind. Eventually Ozai shifts over - his actions delayed, his movements sluggish - and Zhao lays down beside him. He will give what little comfort he can, though it's hard not knowing what the issue is. He feels like a doctor prescribing pain medication without knowing if a headache is a migraine or a stroke.

Agni, why must he be so helpless?

So, so sorry to the three people still reading this, this is so late. More headcanon for Ozai. I have...a lot. As always, reviews, suggestions, and prompts are very welcome.