I don't realise I have passed out until I awaken in Valerian's room lying sprawled on the couch and surrounded by a sea of concerned looking faces. Upon seeing my eyes open, a few of them breath a long sigh of relief. Others merely glare.
Perhaps my waking was not a welcome sight to everyone, then.
"Shit, El," says a familiar voice beside me, reaching over to squeeze my hand in his. Alastor's bright golden eyes spike through the haziness of my vision, his pupils narrowed with concern and a half hearted smile wires across his face.
For some reason, I can hear his heart pounding through his chest: a humming bird fluttering against a sheet of glass. Brittle. Perhaps I am still dreaming.
Giving my hand another squeeze as though to reassure himself I am alive, he says incredulously:
