Closed Minded

                                    

                                          
Pairing(s): Prinxiety
                          
Warnings: Anyone with claustrophobia might not want to read this, mention of sickness/headaches, and a lot of crying (?)
                          
Prompt: "Touch me with your cold feet one more time...!"
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Prince was sitting on the sofa across from Anxiety, one hand fidgeting with a packet of coloured pencils, and the other holding a sketchbook. Although he was in his usual royal attire, the trait had decided that shoes and socks were distracting him from his duty. 
                          
On the other hand, Anxiety was preparing to rip the man's feet off with his bare hands. The sporadic and rather sudden freezing sensation against his leg was beginning to irritate him, and he was extremely close to losing his patience with the trait. 
                          
His body flinched as the cold feeling brushed against his leg once again. That was it. 
                          
Sitting up sharply, he caught Prince's attention, giving him a deadly glare. "Touch me with your cold feet one more time...!"
                          
With a mischievous smirk, the moderately amused man stuck his foot out and prodded Anxiety's ankle with his toe. The darkly dressed trait threw the ice-cold foot away from himself,  causing Prince to swivel and cry out in surprise. "Do you take some sort of sick enjoyment out of my suffering?"
                          
"It was a harmless joke. There was no need for such violence." 
                          
Anxiety snorted. "Coming from the guy who has supposedly fought off mythical creatures, and completely fictional beings."
                          
Rolling his eyes, the colourful man murmured nonsense and pulled a ridiculous face to mock what the dark trait had said. In an attempt to refrain from smacking the royal, Anxiety stood up and stretched, sighing softly and deciding that it was getting late. "I'm going to go sleep now. Later, Princey."
                          
"By sleep, I assume you mean that you are going to stay up until ungodly hours of the morning to read unsettling 'conspiracy theories', and taint Thomas's mind with more fear-inducing facts?" Prince questioned, giving him a disgusted side glance.
                          
With a click of his tongue, the darker trait pointed finger guns at his opposite, smirking slightly. "You're starting to understand me. I'm proud."
                          
"Oh hush," Prince chuckled with another roll of his eyes, "the only reason I put up with you is to keep Thomas safe."
                          
Raising an eyebrow teasingly, Anxiety's grin widened. "Yeah, right. You love me, really."
                          
The royal's reply was not quite what the anxious trait had expected. "Unfortunately."
                          
There was a beat of silence before Prince glanced up at the relatively surprised expression of his opposite, giving him a tiny smile. "Goodnight, Virgil."
                          
Anxiety permitted himself to return the smile before he turned around and waved over his shoulder, bidding the creative trait a good night. "'Night. You know, I don't think I'm ever going to get used to you calling me that."
                          
Behind him, he heard the familiar light hearted chuckle of Prince bounce off of the walls in the hallway, sprinkling a mixture of rose and cherry blossom across his cheeks. Just as the brightly dressed trait turned the page of his sketchbook, Anxiety snapped his fingers and transported himself to his room. 
                          
Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn that he had seen a flash of silver. Strange.
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Deliciously warm aroma's wafted from the kitchen and down the hallway as Anxiety teleported to the common room. He felt a dopey grin tug at his lips as he sat at the table, resting his face in his arms to conceal it.