THE FOURTH PRINCE

a private / independent twisted wonderland oc . written by lockit&sach

[nerhytes]

oh mother , can’t you see , you can’t protect us from yourself .

rhys nerites , the ( f o u r t h ) prince of the coral sea .

a private - twisted wonderland - oc blog .

[nerhytes]

`` good lord. . . ``

[3rdprince]

nerhytes​:

the sudden change in topic makes him startle , he fidgets , unsure how to manage this now. rhys is many things , he’s tough , he’s resourceful , he’s quick on his feet and talented at the drums and an avid collector. he’s neat. he’s obsessive. he’s kind. he’s embittered. he stands there silently. when he tries to speak he finds he can’t , he just presses his lips together and stares blankly for a minute.

the silence is hollow , he doesn’t say a word , his eyes dart for something other than russel to focus on. he swallows. ‷ when’s anything right with us , russ. ‷ he says , voice hoarse , a quiet wheeze. he rubs his eyes and then he just closes them. there are good days , actually , days when it feels like things can just slip back to how it was. he likes those days , as infrequent as they are. he shouldn’t complain. he’s not allowed to complain.

‷ nightmares , ‷ he says after more thick silence. ‷ or not. maybe just me beating myself up for something i can’t do shit about. ‷ he laughs and its wobbly. his head hurts , he’s seeing double. god he wants to sleep , but he’s afraid. he’s always afraid to sleep.

‷ i’ve been working on my thesis to pass the time. i can’t … afford to burden anyone , i don’t want raph worrying about me like when we were kids. i’m an adult , i can take care of myself. ‷ he’s talking to himself.

‷ i’ve been … dreaming of my birth parents again… ‷ he says , opening those tired eyes again. it comes around in waves. the guilt of surviving , the guilt of being spared. he feels it in his throat. his hand subconsciously scratches at his neck.

‷ i don’t know. it’s stupid. i don’t… i don’t know. ‷ distress isn’t the right word. rhys is in turmoil. he’s not in control. he hates it. he feels … lost.

Rhys gives in after only a moment, and that’s all the assurance Russel needs to know that this really is bad.  He gazes at his brother with worried eyes, feels them shimmer briefly as the urge to cry presses against his throat — a reminder that, no matter what he tells himself, he does still love them.  Seeing Rhys like this hurts in the most physical way.  Becase he loves him.  Fuck, he loves him.

“Hey, c’mon.”  Russel’s hands finds Rhys’s other arm, and he rubs up and down his arms gently, like trying to warm him up.  He has the brief, awful thought to wonder if he could take the dreams, even if the memories are only half - there.  He’s never stolen his brother’s memories, because he knows it’s wrong.  But if it would help…

But that’s not his choice to make, and he banishes the thought.  Not to his brothers.  Never to his brothers.  “It’s not stupid.  It’s not.  You’re not a burden for needing help sometimes, Rhys.”  Pot, meet kettle.  Russel carries on before Rhys can call him on the hypocrisy.  “It’s not stupid.  I know I’m not half the older brother Raphael or Ryland are, but I’m still here, Rhy.  You can always come to me, too.”

How did he ever let Rhys forget that?  He can get so distant, and he knows that, but the guilt that slams into him now is agonizing.  But it’s okay.  He won’t show it.

The smile that makes its way onto his face this time is softer, a careful something tender and loving.  It would feel familiar, if he hadn’t erased it.  But it doesn’t matter.  “Would your nightmares be less bad if there was someone with you?”  The smile gentles further.  “You have some company, I do less sullying of my name with scandalous late night dates.  Seems like a win - win to me.”

[nerhytes]

look what you did. he's worried about you now.

aren't you supposed to be the tough one?

rhys' head hurts. his eyes sting. he doesn't want any of his brothers to see him like this. thats why he's always in his room , with his things and his drum kit and his plushies and his orderly disorder. he laughs again , the sound isn't pleasant , it's not rhys' laugh — that soft snort or the boisterous cackle when somethings really funny, when rielle gets into shenanigans or he catches russel in a sticky situation , or when any of his brothers pay for their hubris — it's moppy and scared and completely beneath the bravest most toughest of the middle children.

`` n o. `` he shakes his head. he doesn't need russel to hear or see him in that state , he's frustrated with himself.

`` there's no point , it won't help. they come and go , i just. need to ride the rest of this wave out and then i'll be okay. `` he says — he wishes that were true. yes , the nightmares themselves come and go , but the detriment to his health doesn't. he hasn't slept properly since he was young , since he found out about the sleep walking. about raphael searching the waves late into the night to find him curled up among ruins. since he realised he'd been a burden.

`` riley is giving me tea. i take naps in the day , i can. i can manage this on my own. if i can't do that now what will i do when you all go ? when we all grow sick of this and go our separate ways ? if i don't. get control now i may never. `` he mentions ryland , by his nickname. the tea likely wouldn't do much. but he'd hope at the very least it would make him drowsy.

`` i don't want him finding out. or mother. not that i think she'd care. `` he says. `` this is... i don't know. i don't want to be seen like this. ``

[nerhytes]

petition to get russel put down ?

[3rdprince]

nerhytes​:

“ watch your fucking mouth. ”

“Plenty of people LOVE watching my mouth.  Especially when there’s fucking involved.”

[nerhytes]

`` i dont think i asked. ``

[nerhytes]

`` watch your fucking mouth. ``

[unblot]

WHY.

“ you’d better have had gloves on , manta rie ”

❛    for holding hands???    ❜

[nerhytes]

`` absolutely , if not your scales will fall off. ``

[nerhytes]

`` you'd better have had gloves on , manta rie ``

[3rdprince]

nerhytes​:

“` you really wanna go down in history as … this ? ”` he tries to reason , he wants his older brother to be happy. he wants them all to be. but stringing people along isn’t going to achieve that clearly. russel’s indifference makes him bristle. he’s insufferable.

“` who gives a damn if i sound like raph. ”` he snaps , he’s irritable. he’s tired. he hasn’t slept in days and his music is coming out hollow and lifeless. just like them. his fingers curl into fists.

“` look , russ , i don’t know why you think none of us care about you , why you think just because mother is indignant that the rest of us want you to fade away but doing things like this is… worrying. ”`

its coping.

he knows it is. because he doesn’t cope healthily either. but at least im not cementing my own reputation as a heartless jaded playboy , he thinks.

“` people talk russ. im not saying this to you as the prince or whatever , fuck that , we both know that means fuck all… ”`

normally he ignores this behaviour , because he knows its not worth trying. not because he doesn’t love russel but because russel hates the world.

he’s stressed out , it’s clear on his face , clear by the light bruises on his hand , from squeezing a pen too tight. the deep-setting of the bags under his eyes. this isn’t like raphael’s stress , it’s not brought about from duty and title and expectations only play a fairly small role in his stress right now , it’s something else entirely.

“` look — i won’t tell raph , or ryland , or whatever. but like… please ? try to be considerate , for your sake as much as their’s. ”`

The script doesn’t play out like he’s used to it playing out, and for a moment Russel is startled out of his careful mask; his hands resting behind his head stiffen, entire body following suit, eyes widening.  Rhys ignores his bad behavior most of the time, and it’s concerning that he ISN’T now.  Rather than anger, what floods the older boy is worry; he actually looks at his brother for the first time, and he doesn’t like what he sees.  The dark circles — bruises on his hands — expression twisted into anxiety.  Russe’s visage shifts, then, from surprised and straight to worried.

And despite the fact that he doesn’t think himself a GOOD BIG BROTHER, he slips into the role as easy as anything.  He doesn’t have to fake it.  For all that Rhys is right — for all that Russel doesn’t feel like he belongs heres and knows that they don’t need him, either — he’s still his big brother.  That still means something, even past all their heartache distance.

After all.  That’s what he’s for, right?  The invisible boy, supporting the ones who deserve to be seen.

“Hey, hey.”  He takes a step closer.  “You’re doing a hell of a job psychoanalyzing me here, but I’m not sure this is about me at all.”  A hand raises at though to press to his face, pauses, and then settles on his shoulder.  People talk, sure.  He should be kinder, yeah.  But that shit doesn’t matter.  Not like Rhys does.  “You’re not sleeping again.  I won’t ask if you’re okay, because you’re clearly not.”  His heart breaks in a small, simple way.  “What’s actually wrong, Rhys?”

[nerhytes]

the sudden change in topic makes him startle , he fidgets , unsure how to manage this now. rhys is many things , he’s tough , he’s resourceful , he’s quick on his feet and talented at the drums and an avid collector. he’s neat. he’s obsessive. he’s kind. he’s embittered. he stands there silently. when he tries to speak he finds he can’t , he just presses his lips together and stares blankly for a minute.

the silence is hollow , he doesn’t say a word , his eyes dart for something other than russel to focus on. he swallows. ‷ when’s anything right with us , russ. ‷ he says , voice hoarse , a quiet wheeze. he rubs his eyes and then he just closes them. there are good days , actually , days when it feels like things can just slip back to how it was. he likes those days , as infrequent as they are. he shouldn’t complain. he’s not allowed to complain.

‷ nightmares , ‷ he says after more thick silence. ‷ or not. maybe just me beating myself up for something i can’t do shit about. ‷ he laughs and its wobbly. his head hurts , he’s seeing double. god he wants to sleep , but he’s afraid. he’s always afraid to sleep.

‷ i’ve been working on my thesis to pass the time. i can’t . . . afford to burden anyone , i don't want raph worrying about me like when we were kids. i’m an adult , i can take care of myself. ‷ he’s talking to himself.

‷ i’ve been . . . dreaming of my birth parents again... ‷ he says , opening those tired eyes again. it comes around in waves. the guilt of surviving , the guilt of being spared. he feels it in his throat. his hand subconsciously scratches at his neck.

‷ i don’t know. it’s stupid. i don’t. . . i don’t know. ‷ distress isn’t the right word. rhys is in turmoil. he’s not in control. he hates it. he feels . . . lost.

[3rdprince]

hey check out how hard i can CRY

[nerhytes]

the nerites mantra 

[nerhytes]

place your bets how long until rhys and russel just start throwing hands.

[3rdprince]

nerhytes​:

the younger huffs , annoyed but ultimately harmless in this situation. he crosses his arms across his chest and taps his foot impatiently.

russel’s behaviour is annoying but he’s clearly more concerned about his wellbeing.

“` of course i didn’t bloody tell them you were here who do you think i am ??! ”` he’s almost offended. as if he wants his brother’s inevitable passion-striken demise to be on his hands.

“` seriously russel you can’t keep doing this. do i need to talk to raph ?? ”` he says this because he cares ( regardless of what russel has tricked himself into believing ) and the life his older brother lives worries him — panics him. he’s the “tough” brother , so to speak , and that means tough love too.

“You sounds like Raphael.  It’s FINE, Rhys.  It’s just some stupid flings.”  And when he OUTRIGHT THREATENS TO TELL RAPHAEL ——— well, Russel just laughs, head shaking.  The thought makes him feel sick; not out of worry about getting caught.  Nothing so petulant.  But because their brother has enough on his plate already.  Worrying about Russel’s ‘stupid flings’ shouldn’t be one of them.  he’s already useless to the family.  might as well not be a burden on top of it.

He doesn’t show that, of course.  He’s NOT ALLOWED.  “I mean, his lectures haven’t worked in the past.  Neither have Mom’s, and if she couldn’t convince me to stop, I don’t think anybody can.”  He grins, hands resting against the back of his head, playful and light in stark opposition to Rhys’s seriousness.  “Jealous about my dates?  I’m sure I can set you up with somebody.”

[nerhytes]

``` you really wanna go down in history as . . . this ? ``` he tries to reason , he wants his older brother to be happy. he wants them all to be. but stringing people along isn't going to achieve that clearly. russel's indifference makes him bristle. he's insufferable.

``` who gives a damn if i sound like raph. ``` he snaps , he's irritable. he's tired. he hasn't slept in days and his music is coming out hollow and lifeless. just like them. his fingers curl into fists.

``` look , russ , i don't know why you think none of us care about you , why you think just because mother is indignant that the rest of us want you to fade away but doing things like this is. . . worrying. ```

its coping.

he knows it is. because he doesn't cope healthily either. but at least im not cementing my own reputation as a heartless jaded playboy , he thinks.

``` people talk russ. im not saying this to you as the prince or whatever , fuck that , we both know that means fuck all... ```

normally he ignores this behaviour , because he knows its not worth trying. not because he doesn't love russel but because russel hates the world.

he's stressed out , it's clear on his face , clear by the light bruises on his hand , from squeezing a pen too tight. the deep-setting of the bags under his eyes. this isn't like raphael's stress , it's not brought about from duty and title and expectations only play a fairly small role in his stress right now , it's something else entirely.

``` look — i won't tell raph , or ryland , or whatever. but like... please ? try to be considerate , for your sake as much as their's. ```

[nerhytes]

ive decided that rhys gives rielle his manta ray plushie as one of his wedding gifts.

[3rdprince]

nerhytes​:

rhys ( bonks ) his older brother on the head and stares at him.

“` why was there another angry visitor looking for you today , russel ? ”`

He fakes a squeaky toy noise when he’s struck, but that mirth disappears to make way for concern at the words.  AH, FUCK.

“Did he had red hair or black?  Or was it one of their girlfriends…ah, shoot, it’s bad either way.”  Her presses the back of his hand against his mouth.  “You didn’t tell them I was here, did you? “

[nerhytes]

the younger huffs , annoyed but ultimately harmless in this situation. he crosses his arms across his chest and taps his foot impatiently.

russel's behaviour is annoying but he's clearly more concerned about his wellbeing.

``` of course i didn't bloody tell them you were here who do you think i am ??! ``` he's almost offended. as if he wants his brother's inevitable passion-striken demise to be on his hands.

``` seriously russel you can't keep doing this. do i need to talk to raph ?? ``` he says this because he cares ( regardless of what russel has tricked himself into believing ) and the life his older brother lives worries him — panics him. he's the "tough" brother , so to speak , and that means tough love too.

[nerhytes]

@3rdprince

rhys ( bonks ) his older brother on the head and stares at him.

``` why was there another angry visitor looking for you today , russel ? ```

[nerhytes]

@ryiand

``` riley , you busy ? `` rhys approaches ryland in the garden , normally he doesn't come in here — he knows his elder brother needs some space — but today he does , meaning he needs something from the elder. he rubs his eyes and yawns , clearly tired.

``` wanted to ask you something... ```

[ryiand]

nerhytes​:

“` you’re…real into plants and stuff. do you have any that would make tea… ? ”`

he pauses , wondering if he should say why or if it’s obvious enough from his appearance. he knows ryland can read him ( and the rest of them ) like an open book. and he has no reason to lie. they’re similar , the middle children after all.

“` … im having nightmares again. ”` he admits. rubbing his arm. he hates asking his brothers for help. he’s an adult. not a very well adjusted one but one nonetheless.

   “I can start boiling some soon if you want to sit down for a moment...”  Thank goodness the way this greenhouse was built was a little ridiculous in amount of amenities it had in it. He already figured from the first question what was bothering Rhys, but it was nice to hear him muster up the courage to confess what was on his mind too. He was observant, but never the mind reader. 

Wondering over towards his younger sibling, a small smile appears on his lips as he gives him a gentle, reassuring pat on the head. “I’ll get the tea and then you can tell me about them.. if you want.” Staying in silent company was also a good option. 

[nerhytes]

the younger prince nods and moves to find space to sit down. he feels shakey , he's tired. he doesn't remember the last time he's slept well. its likely been a decade.

``` thanks , riley. ``` he says , as genuine as ever. he couldn't imagine talking about this stuff with raph. which he knows is unfair. but he has enough on his plate without his little brother being a pain. he hates feeling like thats what he is , but what could be done about it ? nothing.

``` ill tell you... ``` communication is good , right ? lord knows it was one of the many problems this family had.

[nerhytes]

@ryiand

``` riley , you busy ? `` rhys approaches ryland in the garden , normally he doesn't come in here — he knows his elder brother needs some space — but today he does , meaning he needs something from the elder. he rubs his eyes and yawns , clearly tired.

``` wanted to ask you something... ```

[ryiand]

    For once he’s actually not busy when disturbed, in fact, he’d been spacing out just a little, standing there with his hands in his pockets as he looked over a small patch of freshly planted flowers. Seeming to take a second to process someone was there, turning his head towards his younger brother. “Mm... not right now.” He speaks up, now turning his whole body towards the approaching brother. “What’s on your mind?”

[nerhytes]

``` you're...real into plants and stuff. do you have any that would make tea. . . ? ```

he pauses , wondering if he should say why or if it's obvious enough from his appearance. he knows ryland can read him ( and the rest of them ) like an open book. and he has no reason to lie. they're similar , the middle children after all.

``` . . . im having nightmares again. ``` he admits. rubbing his arm. he hates asking his brothers for help. he's an adult. not a very well adjusted one but one nonetheless.