A Tender Distance

“The Chief’s home is a mansion of knowledge. If there is information one seeks, they will surely find it in that mansion.”

—Robin Benz

Our time in the bath is very serene and quiet. We’ve hardly said a word to each other as we wash our bodies and hair. The water lilies get jostled every time I dip my head below the surface to rinse my hair. I can see their blurry silhouette when I open my eyes and look up at the glimmering surface, meandering about.

I stand back up and breathe in the misty air. Hot bath water pours down my face, leaving a trail of soapy suds. Small mountains of bubbles swirl between Roo and I. I can’t put a name to it, but I feel some kind of tension. Its presence has nudged between us, pushing us to opposite sides of the bath. I can barely see him between the coils of steam; only his long hair, which floats gently on the water besides his chafed elbows, is visible. Currently, his back is turned to me as he violently scrubs his elbows violently.

“Scrub any harder and your skin will peel off,” I say. It's not that I don’t want to diffuse the tension by starting conversation. In fact, I prefer it there. I simply want to use the soap bar, and if he keeps going at it like that, there will be none left for me.

“My skin is not the same as yours. Don’t worry about it,” Roo replies swiftly. He turns around fully to face me, locks eyes with me, and then scrubs harder, this time on his upper arm.

I narrow my eyes. Roo doesn’t even blink, stubbornly hogging the soap and leaving a puddle of suds around himself. Through all this, his challenging stare never leaves me.

“If you use all the soap, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Oh, please. Don’t be dramatic.”

“You’re being a baby. Haven’t you ever heard of ‘sharing is caring?’ And why do you have this huge bath but only one bar of soap?”

“I’ve never heard that phrase before. I haven’t got the slightest clue why there’s only one.”

“You’re lying.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are!” I whip my hand against the water’s surface and create a huge splash. The water shoots in Roo’s direction, but I can’t tell whether it hits him or not. I splash again for good measure.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” Roo splutters.

I smirk. Looks like I got him spot-on. “Nothing, just moving the soap on the water in your direction. Y’know, since you like soap so much.”

I can hear Roo grumbling a small distance away. Then, something skipping on the water flashes through the mist. Before I can blink, the soap bar collides with my chest. I scrabble for it and, after safely tucking it into my hand, rub my skin with it, soothing the dull pain.

“There’s your soap. Go huddle in your corner and use it to your delight. I’m getting out,” Roo declares.

I frown. Why does he sound like he’s… sulking? No, I must be imagining it. I huff and slide the soap bar against my shoulders.

* * *

After a few more minutes, I decide that I’m clean enough. The water parts around me as I make my way over to the small staircase I entered the bath through. After climbing out, steam rolls off of me in waves. I eye the rack, thinking. Wearing my dirty clothes is not an option. Just when I’m about to swallow my pride and look for Roo, the man himself appears in front of me on the opposite side of the rack.

“I realized I never brought you a change of clothes, so I got some. Here.” He tosses the black shirt at me, and then a pair of brown shorts. The shirt feels like the material of linen against my fingertips, but the shorts are a different story. They feel like they’re made of a material similar to jeans, but not quite. I hold them up and immediately arch an eyebrow.

“These look kind of big.”

“They’re supposed to be baggy. It’s a trending style right now.”

I hum. “You know a lot about what’s trending, huh.”

Roo crosses his arms over his chest, water dripping into a small puddle there. “Of course. I love to experiment with what’s trending and my own tastes. Fashion is an art, one that many people take for granted.”

I never thought about it that way, I reflect. In my contemplation, my eyes wander toward Roo. His hair is silky as it cascades over his shoulders. Water drips incessantly from it, causing the puddle of water forming where Roo’s arms are crossed to overflow a bit. Roo notices my staring and turns his head away, biting his cheek.

That’s when I notice it: a stray white petal embedded in the silky strands of Roo’s hair. It sits just above his ear. Before I can think, my hand is rising toward it, about to pluck it away.

But then, reality crashes over me. What my touch could do.

I let my hand fall to my side.

“Roo,” I mutter. He turns his head back toward me, cheeks reddened—probably with the heat, I would reason—and makes a questioning noise. I continue, “There’s a petal in your hair.”

He pats the top of his head and swats at it.

“No, not there. Just above your ear.”

He flicks at the area above his left ear.

“Not that ear. The other one,” I mumble, face-palming.

“Oh,” Roo simply says. He gets it off this time and lets it flutter back into the bath.

We change into our new clothes. I can only assume that the outfit Roo gave me is fit for court. I have no idea what the dress code is, or if there even is one. Once I finish changing, I let Roo know. After a few minutes of the sound of rustling fabric, Roo also declares himself done. I turn around.

Roo’s outfit of choice is much more elaborate: he has shedded the gold arm bands in favor of silver anklets and donned a white shirt that clings to his skin. Its kimono sleeves hang low whenever Roo bends his arm, revealing wrists free of any bracelets. His brocade trousers are still multicolored, but with different hues: one pant leg is forest green and the other is milky white to match his top. Thin gold chains and twine weaved with tiny leaves drape from the center of his belts to the back of them.

The heavy necklaces from before still hang around his neck. Roo adjusts them minutely before announcing, “Your sister is waiting outside. Let’s go to my home’s library. We don’t have time to waste.”