Cale Henituse was having a very bad day.

Just so many layers of a bad day.

It wasn't supposed to be such a wretched day. It had, up until a few hours ago, been a very promising start to a very good weekend.

Of course a lot of things that had made a few hours ago so very pleasant made the present state of being just so much worse.

"I don't want to hear that from you–"

Alberu chuckled against his neck, hugging him closer and Cale considered another round but they'd only just gotten cleaned up. It felt nice to be clean and smell nice, Cale didn't have any reason to have those thoughts, he just knew it and appreciated it.

It felt good to fall asleep to the rhythm of Alberu's heartbeat.

Things like hickeys and wearing nothing but your boxers were just great when you were in the privacy of your home with your romantic partner.

They suddenly became extremely uncomfortable when you woke up in an alleyway surrounded by the smell of grime, piss, and alcohol.

"...what the ever loving fuck..."

Cale didn't have the time or opportunity to really appreciate his situation.

Shortly after he woke up, he was approached by a trio of unsavory individuals who apparently had a score to settle with him. They all thought that Cale's state of undress and sexed out appearance was fucking hilarious.

Cale showed them just how funny he thought it was with a broken bottle.

He might not be a violent person but his family did have a background in martial arts and his parents had ensured that he at least knew enough to defend himself. Not to mention, it wasn't Cale's first bar fight. His late teens and early twenties were marred with all sorts of unfortunate events that he now lived to regret.

It came in handy now though. The trio were already fairly beat up and completely wasted, Cale really didn't need to do that much.

But now he was mostly naked, covered in hickeys, and covered in bruises and minor cuts. Just because Cale was good enough to come out on top didn't mean he'd come out unscathed.

One would think that would be the worst of Cale's evening. One would be wrong.

After he'd stolen clothes from one of the goons and made his way out of the alleyway, Cale was made acutely aware that he definitely wasn't anywhere near home.

The clothes, the architecture, the people–everything was too different to be anywhere Cale had ever heard of. He was pretty sure he'd seen someone who didn't even look human.

"...well fuck me..."

Unfortunately the world took that as an invitation. A rather harassed looking city guard found Cale and called over a few people who all just about swarmed around Cale with so many different intentions that his head started to pound.

He was about ready to introduce the world to the sequel to Cale With a Broken Bottle Vs Every Fucker That Talks To Him when a familiar face in the throng caused him an innate feeling of unease.

"...Hans...?"

The butler looked at Cale and gave the usual entirely fake smile for the young master who he didn't actually like but was forced to deal with and Cale felt some of the tension leave his shoulders.

Whoever these fuckers were or whatever they wanted, they were with his parents. Maybe his parents would know what the hell happened.

More than anything, he could grab the first ticket home. So with a feeling of faint reluctance, Cale allowed himself to be shuttled into a carriage and through the unfamiliar scenery.

One would think that his troubles would end there. Help had come. He would be able to have access to food, clothes, shelter, and a ticket home.

Cale's-very-bad-no-good-day had no such mercy lined up for him.

'Ah... I wanna eat breakfast. I miss Alberu's cooking.'

That was what he thought with a feeling of detached panic as the carriage turned onto its side and nearly flipped over once more over the force of the crash. Cale's body collided with a broken window and he didn't even bother to check his own injuries. He laid down in the wreckage of the carriage for a few moments, staring at the ceiling that was once a door and listening to the sounds of scuffling that could be heard outside.

Despite his poor disposition, bad temper, shock over his circumstances, and utter exhaustion Cale wasn't actually a dumb person.

Someone had attacked the carriage. As the primary rider of status, he was liable to be the target. The people outside, Hans included, would either be able to fight them off or die trying. Perhaps they'd do the smart thing and leave the failure son for dead.

Cale also understood that such sharp pain definitely didn't come in a coma dream so unless his unconscious body was being beaten and stabbed, he was definitely in a sort of reality.

A reality where he'd just seen some guy in a cloak fly over the top of the carriage before being knocked away by a freak with a sword.

The word had been haunting his thoughts since he first peaked out from the alleyway. Even before that when he'd seen the goons who were so earnest about assaulting him.

Fantasy.

Cale wasn't a huge fan of the prospect. For starters, what the fuck was Hans doing here if this was some fantasy-adventure? But more importantly Cale wanted to be back home.

He wanted it so badly he felt raw inside.

The idea of Hans being here brought up another possibility though.

What if this was home.

What if in the time he'd been asleep all of reality had shifted into fantasy?

What if there was no home to return to?

By that logic, there was likely an Alberu to find who was probably just as worried about him as he was.

Of course that explanation wasn't satisfactory either.

Cale sighed and gingerly made his way out of the door-turned-ceiling, looking around at the dying down noises from the attackers and his protectors. To his surprise, Hans had stayed by the carriage as though ready to be the last line of defense. He knew the guy was dedicated to his job but geez, don't risk your life for it.

With a hup Cale hopped down towards where Hans was standing, deciding not to pay any mind to his bleeding. There wasn't any fixing it right now and therefore no point complaining about it. "What's all this shit?"

Hans was looking him up and down with fearful unease before he found his words. "It's the ones your father was telling you about, Young Master Cale."

Wow. That was more than useless. And really? Young master Cale? At his age? He was creeping up on thirty. Fantasy was dumb.

"Pretend that I didn't pay any attention to a single fucking thing my dad said and explain." The guards appeared to be winning handily, although the men in black continued to put up a fight.

"Ah, the usual then." Cale glared at Hans. That was part of the reason he didn't like the guy. Always with the sass. "There had been these strange individuals wearing black that have been attacking the territory of late. They appear to be targeting the Henituse family in particular, which is why your father warned you against leaving to have your normal fun, young master Cale."

Cale stood leaning against the carriage and taking in the scenery for a long time. He really wasn't a calm person, he already knew that about himself but it just became so much more glaringly apparent as he stood there trying to remember all the positive changes he'd made over the last few years.

He'd learned to stop using his insecurity as a crutch, he didn't drink as much, he didn't pretend to be a person he wasn't, and he didn't get into meaningless brawls with criminals.

He'd grown as a person and achieved a state of happiness with a foundation in calm acceptance.

He didn't realize how much of his anger management really hinged on having his fiance there. Not that Alberu did all that much but it just made Cale a happier and calmer person to have him.

Now that he didn't' have his fiance, didn't know where he was, and was apparently living under his fathers thumb in a fantasy world, Cale's zen state of calm withered away like so much paper in the rain.

An unlucky attacker snuck past the guards, making a straight beeline for Cale and Hans with murder in his eyes.

Cale's lip twitched.

He just wasn't in the mood for any of this.

It was like those thugs in the alleyway. They just didn't understand how much Cale depended on other people to behave with any sense of decency.

The shard of glass that he'd been clutching from the crash moved with his fist and towards the bastard's stomach, followed briefly by a swift kick to the knees and a headbutt to the shocked bastard's face.

Cale glared deep into his eyes, reeled his head back and bashed it forward again with enough force to send his opponent crumbling to the ground. Afterwards, he stepped quite pointedly on his neck while kicking his head.

He stopped before he took a life. Cale didn't want blood on his hands. Although apparently the guards had no such compunctions as the blood of their enemies littered the cobblestone.

Cale spit at the prone form of his victim and sneered at the shocked guards who were approaching after doing their duties.

"Take me fucking home this instant." He snapped, spurring the servants and guards into motion as they went about finding him another carriage and loading him up. This time without any random attacks along the way.

Cale thought that very little could surprise him as they approached 'home'. After he'd accepted that he was at the very least in some sort of parallel world, Cale didn't have any room left in him for shock.

Still, the expansive Henituse estate was a bit much. His family was obscenely rich but modern standards of a mansion and fantasy standards of a mansion were clearly on different scales. And from the information he'd dragged out of Hans, enduring the mans sass the entire way, his father was a fucking Count. Cale was, well, pretty much himself from Hans' description. Or at least the version of himself he'd been before he'd got his life together.

Of course his whole motivation for getting his life together, Alberu Crossman, was nowhere inHans' obnoxiously detailed description of the Henituse territory.

'...am I inside of a homophobic fantasy world?' Cale pondered before considering that he'd technically been living in a homophobic modern world so why would this be any different.

Although his family had been supportive of his relationship in his world, so there was that at least.

Of course, Cale didn't plan on collapsing as soon as he made it out of the carriage and onto the grounds. Apparently the injuries, blood loss, and shock had finally decided to riot against Cale's insistence that he was fine and took matters into their own hands, shutting the body down before it caused itself more damage.

Cale awoke in a luxurious room, changed and bandaged up and feeling a lot better than he had the night before. He didn't know who had changed him or what they'd seen but Cale was a shameless enough person not to care.

"Young Master Cale, you're awake."

Cale rolled over lazily and looked at the elderly gentlemen standing at his bedside with a benign smile.

Well. At least he had Ron.

"...Ron... get me some fucking water and I swear if you put lemons in it, I'm throwing it at your head." He grumbled, turning over to his other side grumpily.

Ron was one of those people who he could be a brat around even after his reform. His father? His nanny? It was hard to put an exact label on what Ron was to him but all the muted panic that had been just raging inside of him ever since he first woke up in the alleyway calmed somewhat at the familiar sight of him.

"As you wish, young master Cale." Ron replied with just a hint of amusement. Cale didn't care if the old man laughed himself silly at Cale's expense, so long as there was no fucking lemon tea.

"...I miss Alberu..." Cale grumbled into his pillow when he was alone.

It wasn't that it had been all that long. Technically speaking, it had probably been less than a day. They spent more time apart on average from business trips and work and all the expectations of adults that kept them from indulging in the people they actually loved.

It was the knowledge that he didn't know where Alberu was or if he'd ever get home. That made every second stretch on to a small eternity of misery.

Cale hated the prospect of never seeing a person he loved ever again. It was something of a personal matter for him but it just sort of made him unreasonably upset for some random trauma based reasons.

Really, it wasn't that big a deal. It was just that if he never actually managed to marry his fiance, he was going to actually murder a few people. Preferably whoever was responsible for this nonsense.

Cale sat up in bed, his aching body complaining over every movement as he frowned ahead. He needed to think logically. Cale's family was old money and banks, thus why they'd apparently become a Countdum in this bizarre fantasy world. Alberu's family was deep into politics and also rich as hell. Thus, it would only make sense that if this world was in some way similar to his own, whether it was an alternate universe or reality morphing or whatever the fuck else, it would make sense that Alberu's family was also noble.

If that was the case, didn't nobles meet to do shit in fantasy worlds? Couldn't he send a letter like 'get your bitch ass to the Henituse territory and let's talk'? Or attend some shitty event that other nobles would attend?

Ron returned and the tea was blessedly sweet but Cale could taste just a hint of lemon that the old bastard had clearly added just out of spite.

Cale might have picked a fight over it but he had a very important question and he didn't really have the time to quibble over Ron's little ways.

"Ron." He frowned at his tea. It would sound weird if it was something he should know but fuck it. This was apparently back in the days when he wanted the world to have the worst possible opinion of him. "Who the fuck is Alberu Crossman?"

Ron gave him such a strange look for a moment that he felt his heart sink with the fear that he'd been wrong, that Alberu really wasn't here, that he at the very least wasn't a notable noble who was easily found.

Finally, Ron answered with that same benign smile but faint concern flickering in his eyes. "He's the Crown Prince, young master Cale."

Ah.

Of fucking course it wouldn't be easy.