Part Six

"I didn't know it would be a problem." Michael was fast growing tired of being treated like a child whose visits and activities were regulated by a strict parent. He wished Oliver had stayed a little longer so that Robert would have found them together in bed - it would have been a laugh, if nothing else.

The older boy sighed, dramatically slumping into the chair opposite the foot of Michael's bed. How could he ask what he really wanted to know? Had Oliver made the move he was too afraid to? And had Michael responded, despite his earlier assurances that the green-haired boy was not his type - had Oliver given him any other choice but to respond?

They sat in awkward silence, neither wanting to begin a conversation that would doubtlessly end up about their failed kiss. Michael stole glimpses of Robert through his bed's drapes, aching to ask if they could possibly rekindle the moment. And Robert was quick to glance back, wondering if Michael considered it more than a simple moment of poorly expressed gratitude.

A shock of orange behind the gossamer veil caught the nobleman's eye. Trygle! It was as good a subject as anything else he could think of to try and restore some sense of normality to the room.

"I think Griffolyon and Trygle would give a magnificent battle. An eagle is such a noble creature... Perhaps one day I will have the opportunity to see it in action?"
Michael was quick to sit up and answer. "Why not now? I could really go for a Bey-battle."
"No sport!" Robert replied, making Michael feel as though he were five years old. "You can barely stand - there is no way you could launch your blade in the manner you have been trained to."
"I don't have to launch it that way - I'm adaptable!"
"You are brave, if not a tad foolish, but a knight is always fair. And it would not be fair to fight you in your current condition."

Michael took a breath to argue some more, but Robert cut him off.
"No! And that is final."
"I know myself better than you or your quack doctors do, and I know I can handle a Bey-battle!" Michael yelled like the spoiled child he was being treated as. "So quit telling me what to do. I can look after myself just fine!"
"Whilst you are in my care, I will not allow such reckless behaviour."
"I never asked to be in your care!"
Robert scowled. "You would have died without me."
"So what do you want - a medal?"
"I want your respect, Michael."

The American was caught off-guard by the serious, sour answer his hot sarcasm received. His mouth moved, but he had no words to say. Was this another of Robert's games... of this castle's games?

"Robert..." He swallowed the tight lump of guilt in his throat and blinked back angry tears. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
He trailed off, unsure what to say to take back what he'd already made a mess of. Robert nodded in acknowledgment of having heard Michael's apology, but did not offer forgiveness or rejection of it.

"Call Judy... she'll organise getting me home. I don't want to be here any more than you want me here."
"I never said I did not want you to stay." Robert, as always, worded his reply carefully with very little emotion, despite what he truly felt. "I just do not want you to get hurt. I promised Judy that I would look after you - and a knight never breaks a promise."
"I won't get hurt." Michael insisted. "And I really need the practise."
The knight sighed in defeat. He just couldn't say no when the boy looked at him with such sad, blue eyes.

Hooking his elbow around Michael's, more out of habit than necessity, Robert made his way down to his private training room. He would have liked to have shown off his Colosseum Stadium, but his guest was not well enough to endure a whirlwind flight to Greece. Even the thought of letting him battle in his smaller stadium weighed heavily on his mind.

"If you feel the slightest bit unwell, I want you to call back your blade and stop the match, all right?" He told Michael as he unlocked the doors to the room.
"I'll be fine." The All Star shrugged his concern off. "There's no way I'm backing down from a fight."

Griffolyon arose, swooping down with its wings spread wide and its talons ready to attack. Trygle screamed as contact was made, its head whipping from side to side to land a vicious bite into any part of the griffin that it could reach. Griffolyon's hind legs kicked at the eagle's back as its front claws dug deeper into its opponent's shoulders.

"Trygle! Get out of there!" Michael yelled, wincing at his Bit Beast's bright golden glow. He suddenly felt very faint, and the stadium around him felt like it was spinning.

Blinking back his balance, he wasn't about to give Robert the satisfaction of knowing he had been right. He needed a quick win and then he would retire to bed - and the strict nobleman would be none the wiser.

Infused by its master's orders, Trygle soared higher, managing to clip Griffolyon's head with a violent flap of its wings. Whilst the enormous Bit Beast reeled for one precious second, the eagle took its chance and escaped.

"Running away, are we, Michael? I did not take you for a coward." Robert taunted.
"You wish." The American smirked. "Trygle, now!"

The spinning was getting faster - as fast as the Beyblades themselves. Michael gripped his forehead. "Trygle..."
"Griffolyon, attack!"
With a war cry not unlike Trygle's own, the griffin raced forward, but Michael did not see the result.

"Michael!" Robert raced across the stadium to his fallen opponent. Griffolyon and Trygle, without orders, ended the match without a clear winner.

"So proud and stubborn... you could have killed yourself out there! I should have been more persistent in stopping you..."

The doctors had been summoned, and they had found nothing seriously wrong with Michael. He should not have been subjected to the excitement of a furious Bey-battle whilst he was still injured, and he had merely fainted as a result. All he needed was a good sleep, and they had given him the medication to ensure that he would get it.

He would be out for hours, and Robert insisted on watching over him; talking to him, and begging for his forgiveness, even though he knew he would not receive an answer. The words were so much easier to say like that.

"Robert? Gustav said you were up here... What happened?"
"Oliver..." The purple-haired knight didn't look around. "I am such a fool. I let him fight when I knew he would not be able to. Am I getting so weak that I cannot say no to him? He could ask for anything and I would give it to him..."

Oliver edged closer, standing beside Robert and looking down at Michael. He could feel his captain's adoration for his guest. It radiated off him like a warm glow, and it made the shorter boy smile.

"He has the handsome face and the strong jaw of a knight..." Robert observed, reaching out and feathering a touch across the sleeping boy's cheek. "With hair that could rival the magenta of any royal robe."
Michael gave a soft moan as his slumber was stirred by his company's fingertips lacing through his wild locks.
"It is such a pity that he has all the charm, or lack thereof, of a common scoundrel."

"You're in love with him, aren't you?" The pretty, green-haired boy grinned as his eyes shifted from Robert's longing gaze to his hands, which lovingly caressed the sleeping All Star.
"That is ridiculous! He is ignorant, selfish and arrogant; he has a filthy mouth and no respect for my household - he disgusts me!"
"Yet you touch him like he is made of glass?"

There was a long silence; not awkward, but certainly not comfortable while Oliver's question still hung unanswered.

"...Yes." Robert finally sighed in defeat. "I am afraid I am in love."
"Ah, l'amour..." The younger boy giggled, holding his hands to his heart. "It's not as bad as you think!"
"It is easy for you... you know how to express yourself."
"Oh, Robert, you try too hard! Relax, and it'll come." Oliver winked. "How could Michael resist someone like you?"
"One word to the others, and I swear I will destroy you."