The forest seemed to close in around them, the trees bending beneath the force of the wind as the storm howled through the branches. The rain was coming down harder now, soaking through their clothes as the ground beneath their feet turned to slippery mud. The distant rumble of thunder echoed through the trees, growing closer with every passing minute, the storm sweeping over them with an unforgiving intensity.
Dorian's heart pounded in his chest, his breaths coming in shallow gasps as he scanned the dense forest around them. The panic that had been gnawing at the edges of his mind since they realized they were lost was now threatening to consume him entirely. The thunder—loud, sharp—cracked through the sky, sending a bolt of fear straight to his core.
It was happening again.
The memories hit him like a wave, crashing over him and pulling him under.
He was a child again, no more than seven or eight, standing alone in the dark, cold room where his parents had left him. The sound of the thunder outside had been deafening, shaking the walls of the house as the storm raged on. His punishment had been clear—he had made a mistake, a big one, and this was the consequence. He had been left there for hours, alone, terrified, with no one to comfort him. Every time the thunder cracked, it felt like the world was closing in on him, the darkness pressing down until he couldn't breathe.
Now, standing in the middle of this forest with the storm raging overhead, that same fear clawed at him, pulling him back to that place he had tried so hard to forget.
Rhys, walking beside him, glanced over, his brow furrowed with concern as he noticed Dorian's increasingly erratic breathing. "Dorian, we need to stay focused. We'll find shelter soon."
But Dorian barely heard him. His mind was racing, the noise of the storm drowning out everything else. The thunder cracked again, closer this time, sending a jolt of fear through him that made his chest tighten painfully. His breaths grew more ragged, more desperate, his mind spiraling into panic as the weight of the storm pressed down on him.
"It's your fault," Dorian snapped suddenly, his voice strained as he struggled to breathe. "We shouldn't have separated from the group. We should've stayed together."
Rhys blinked, taken aback by the accusation. "Dorian—"
"We're lost because of you!" Dorian's voice was louder now, trembling with both fear and anger. His hands were shaking, his vision blurred by the panic that had gripped him. "I never should have followed you!"
The words tumbled out before Dorian could stop them, his fear spilling over into frustration. The storm—the memories—it was all too much. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He felt trapped, cornered by the crashing thunder and the suffocating weight of the past.
Rhys' expression hardened for a moment, the sting of Dorian's words clear in his eyes. But then, as the next crash of thunder rumbled overhead, Rhys saw it—the way Dorian flinched, his hands trembling uncontrollably, his breath coming in shallow gasps. It wasn't just the storm or the fear of being lost. There was something deeper at play, something that had shaken Dorian to his core.
"Dorian," Rhys said, his voice firm but gentler now as he stepped closer, his eyes locking onto Dorian's. "I know you're scared, but we can't panic right now. We need to focus. I need you to stay with me, okay?"
Dorian's chest tightened even more, the panic threatening to choke him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think—everything was spiraling out of control. But Rhys' voice cut through the noise, steady and sure, grounding him in the present.
Another crash of thunder shook the sky, but this time, Rhys reached out, grabbing Dorian's arm in a firm, steadying grip.
"Hey," Rhys said softly, his hand tightening around Dorian's arm. "You're not alone. We'll get out of this, but you have to trust me."
Dorian's breath hitched, the warmth of Rhys' touch pulling him back from the edge, just enough to stop the full force of the panic attack from swallowing him whole. His chest still felt tight, his mind still raced, but Rhys' presence was enough to give him something to hold onto, something solid.
Before Dorian could respond, the ground beneath them shifted suddenly, the rain-soaked earth giving way beneath their feet. The forest floor, already slick with mud, trembled as the hillside beneath them crumbled, sending both of them tumbling down in a chaotic rush of dirt and debris.
"Rhys!" Dorian shouted, his hands scrambling to find something to hold onto as they slid down the hill, his heart hammering in his chest. The world spun around him, the trees a blur as they were carried downward by the force of the landslide.
They hit the ground hard, the impact jarring the breath from Dorian's lungs. Pain shot through his body as he tumbled to a stop, his head spinning from the fall. For a moment, everything was a blur—the world around him a haze of rain, mud, and pain.
"Rhys," Dorian gasped, his voice weak as he tried to push himself up.
Rhys was lying a few feet away, his body half-covered in mud and debris, one arm bent at an awkward angle beneath him. His face was pale, his eyes squeezed shut in pain as he tried to move.
Dorian's heart dropped, fear surging through him as he scrambled to his feet and rushed to Rhys' side.
"Rhys, are you okay?" Dorian's voice trembled, panic clawing at his throat as he crouched beside him. "Rhys, say something!"
Rhys groaned, his eyes fluttering open, his face contorted with pain. "I'm... fine. Just... my arm."
Dorian's breath came in short, sharp bursts as he looked at Rhys' arm, which was clearly injured from the fall. The angle was wrong, twisted in a way that sent a wave of nausea through Dorian's stomach. The storm raged around them, the rain pouring down in sheets, but all Dorian could think about was getting Rhys to safety.
"We need to find shelter," Dorian said, his voice tight with urgency. "We can't stay here."
Rhys nodded weakly, his face pale as he tried to push himself up with his good arm. But the pain was too much, and he collapsed back onto the muddy ground, his breaths coming in short, labored gasps.
Dorian's heart pounded in his chest as he looked around, the storm growing more violent with each passing second. They were stranded, lost in the middle of the forest, and Rhys was injured. The weight of their situation pressed down on him, but Dorian forced himself to stay calm, to focus.
"I'll help you," Dorian said, his voice steadying as he knelt beside Rhys, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "We'll find a way out of this."
With a grunt of effort, Dorian helped Rhys to his feet, supporting him as they began to move through the forest, their footsteps slow and unsteady on the rain-soaked ground. The storm was relentless, the wind whipping through the trees as the rain came down in heavy sheets, but Dorian refused to let it overwhelm him.
They were going to get out of this.
No matter what.
_
The storm had come on faster than anyone expected. What had been a peaceful afternoon with the students enjoying the view from the hilltop had quickly turned into a frantic scramble as the dark clouds rolled in, bringing with them the first ominous rumbles of thunder. The wind had picked up, stirring the trees violently, and the rain was beginning to fall in heavy drops that soaked through clothes and packs in minutes.
Kaelen stood near the edge of the clearing, his sharp eyes scanning the group with quiet intensity. He had been watching the students closely ever since the weather had started to turn, ensuring that everyone stayed together and that no one wandered off. But something gnawed at him—a feeling that something wasn't right.
He hadn't seen Dorian in a while.
Beside him, Emory finished checking on the students, their usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by a growing sense of concern. The group was restless now, huddled together beneath what little shelter the trees offered as they prepared to move back down the trail. But Emory's gaze flicked nervously toward the trees, scanning the surrounding forest.
"Where's Dorian?" Emory muttered under their breath, their hazel eyes narrowing as they took another glance around the group. "I don't see him."
Kaelen's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he quickly scanned the surrounding forest. There was no sign of Dorian—or Rhys, for that matter. The sense of unease that had been growing in his chest solidified into something sharper, more urgent.
"They were here earlier," Kaelen said quietly, his voice calm but laced with tension. "But they're not now."
Emory's eyes widened, their expression shifting from confusion to alarm in a matter of seconds. "They wouldn't just leave without telling anyone. Not in this weather."
Kaelen's mind raced, his instincts kicking in as the wind howled through the trees. Dorian wouldn't have wandered off without a reason—he was too responsible for that, especially with the storm approaching. But Rhys? Rhys had a way of drawing people into his plans, his carefree attitude sometimes leading him into situations without thinking of the consequences.
Kaelen's stomach twisted as he considered the possibility.
"They must have gone into the forest," Kaelen said, his voice quieter now, his concern masked by his calm demeanor. But beneath that calm, a storm of his own was brewing. Dorian—his son, even if Dorian didn't know it—was out there somewhere, in the middle of a growing storm, with no shelter and no way to protect himself.
And Kaelen would not lose him again.
"We have to find them," Emory said urgently, their usual playful tone replaced by one of protective determination. "They could be lost, or worse."
Kaelen nodded, his gaze already shifting toward the forest. "We'll take the rest of the group back down to the camp. Once they're safe, I'll head out to search for them."
"I'm going with you," Emory said quickly, their voice firm, leaving no room for argument. The rain had begun to fall harder now, drenching the forest in a thick, cold mist, and the first crack of thunder sounded dangerously close. There wasn't much time.
Kaelen's eyes softened, though his resolve remained as firm as ever. "We'll find them."
Emory nodded, their face set in determination as they moved to gather the rest of the group. As the students huddled together, preparing for the trek back down the hill, Kaelen's mind raced. He had been trained for situations like this—he had spent years navigating dangerous terrain, leading others through storms, but this was different.
This was Dorian.
The thought of Dorian—out there, in the middle of the storm, lost and vulnerable—made Kaelen's heart pound in a way it hadn't in years. He had given up so much to protect his son from afar, never letting Dorian know the truth of who he really was. But now, the thought of losing him again—losing him without ever having the chance to tell him the truth—made his chest tighten painfully.
Once the students were gathered, Mr. Corwin and the other guides began leading them down the trail, hurrying to get them to safety before the storm worsened. Kaelen and Emory stayed behind, their eyes locked on the forest as the last of the group disappeared down the path.
The wind howled, bending the trees dangerously as the rain fell in heavy sheets, drenching them both to the bone. Emory's jaw was set in determination, their hands clenched tightly as they prepared to dive into the forest.
"They have to be close," Emory said, more to themselves than to Kaelen. "They wouldn't have gone far."
Kaelen's eyes flickered toward the trees, his mind running through every possible scenario, every potential danger that could be waiting for Dorian and Rhys out there. He had to stay calm—had to keep his emotions in check if he was going to find them. But the thought of Dorian alone, afraid, and in danger, sent a wave of fear crashing through him that he couldn't ignore.
"We'll find them," Kaelen repeated, though this time the words were meant more to reassure himself than anyone else.
With one last glance toward the darkening sky, Kaelen turned and led the way into the forest, the storm raging around them as they disappeared into the trees, determined to bring Dorian and Rhys back before it was too late.
_
The wind howled through the trees, the rain coming down in torrents, turning the forest floor into a slick, treacherous mess of mud and fallen branches. Dorian pushed forward, his heart pounding as he struggled to keep his footing, his arm wrapped around Rhys to support his weight. The rain soaked through their clothes, and every step felt heavier, more desperate.
His mind was still racing, the remnants of his earlier panic lingering just beneath the surface. The thunder echoed through the sky, each crack like a sharp reminder of the fear he had tried so hard to bury. But there was no time to let it take over—not now. Not with Rhys injured and relying on him.
"Come on," Dorian muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the roar of the storm. "We have to keep moving."
Rhys groaned in response, his face pale, his arm hanging limp at his side. Every step sent a fresh wave of pain through him, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to slow them down. "I'm fine," Rhys said through clenched teeth, though the strain in his voice betrayed him.
Dorian's chest tightened with worry, but he didn't stop. His eyes darted around the forest, searching desperately for any sign of shelter—anything that could protect them from the storm. The wind lashed at their faces, cold and relentless, but Dorian kept moving, pushing through the panic and the fear.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Dorian spotted something—a dark shape in the distance, half-hidden by the thick undergrowth. He squinted through the rain, his heart leaping as he realized what it was.
A cave.
"There!" Dorian shouted, his voice hoarse with relief. "We need to get inside."
With renewed energy, Dorian guided Rhys toward the cave, his grip on Rhys tightening as they stumbled through the mud. The entrance to the cave was small, barely noticeable, but once they squeezed inside, it opened into a larger space, dry and sheltered from the storm raging outside.
The moment they were inside, Dorian eased Rhys down against the wall of the cave, his heart still pounding in his chest as he quickly assessed their surroundings. The cave wasn't large, but it was enough to keep them safe. The sound of the storm was muffled now, the wind and rain reduced to a distant roar, but the air was still cold, and Rhys was in bad shape.
Dorian dropped to his knees beside Rhys, his hands trembling as he fumbled for the medical kit in his backpack. His mind was still buzzing with fear, but he forced himself to stay focused, to push through the panic.
Rhys let out a low groan, his face contorted in pain as he cradled his injured arm. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by a grimace that made Dorian's heart twist painfully in his chest.
"You're going to be okay," Dorian said, his voice firm despite the fear gnawing at him. "Just... hold on. I'll take care of it."
Rhys managed a weak smile, though his eyes were half-closed, exhaustion and pain etched into every line of his face. "You're... a terrible liar, President."
Dorian huffed, his chest tight as he finally pulled the medical kit free. "Shut up and let me help you."
With practiced but shaky hands, Dorian began assessing Rhys' injury. His arm was clearly dislocated, the angle of it all wrong, and Dorian winced at the sight. His stomach churned at the thought of what needed to be done, but there was no time to hesitate.
"I need to reset your arm," Dorian said quietly, his eyes flicking up to meet Rhys'. "It's going to hurt, but it'll be worse if we leave it like this."
Rhys' face paled, but he nodded, his jaw clenched tight as he braced himself. "Do it."
Taking a deep breath, Dorian gently took hold of Rhys' injured arm, his hands trembling slightly. The storm outside seemed to fade into the background as Dorian focused on the task in front of him. He couldn't afford to mess this up—not with Rhys' safety on the line.
"On three," Dorian said, his voice steady despite the fear thrumming beneath his skin. "One... two..."
Before Rhys could tense, Dorian pulled, his hands moving quickly and decisively to pop Rhys' shoulder back into place.
Rhys let out a sharp cry of pain, his body jerking as the shock of it hit him, but after a moment, his breathing steadied, the pain easing just enough for him to slump back against the cave wall.
"Sorry," Dorian muttered, guilt gnawing at him as he watched Rhys' face twist in pain. "I had to."
Rhys took a few deep breaths, his hand reaching up to gently touch his now properly set arm. "You did good," He said softly, his voice strained but sincere.
Dorian let out a shaky breath, the tension in his chest easing slightly as he grabbed some bandages from the kit and began wrapping Rhys' arm to immobilize it. His fingers worked quickly, methodically, but his mind was still racing with everything that had happened. The storm outside, the panic, the fear of being lost—it all pressed down on him, but somehow, being here, in this quiet moment with Rhys, made it bearable.
As he finished securing the bandages, Dorian sat back on his heels, his eyes lingering on Rhys' face. Despite the pain, there was a softness in Rhys' eyes—a quiet, unspoken gratitude that made Dorian's heart ache.
"You didn't have to come with me," Rhys said after a long silence, his voice low, almost fragile in the quiet of the cave. "You could've just... left me back there."
Dorian's chest tightened at the thought, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not leaving you," He said firmly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'd never do that."
Rhys' eyes softened, his usual playful smirk replaced by something more vulnerable, more real. "I know," He said quietly. "I just... I didn't mean to get us into this mess."
Dorian sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "It's not your fault. I agreed to come with you. It's on me too."
They fell into silence, the only sound the distant roar of the storm outside. The air in the cave was cold, but the tension between them was warmer, more intimate. Dorian's heart still raced, the panic from earlier lingering, but being here with Rhys—knowing that they were safe for now—brought a strange sense of calm that Dorian hadn't expected.
For a long moment, they just sat there, the storm raging outside while the space between them seemed to close in, quieter and more meaningful than before.
_
The storm continued to rage outside, the wind howling through the trees and the rain pouring down in sheets. But inside the cave, it was quieter, the sounds of the storm muffled by the rock walls that surrounded them. The air was still cold, though, and Dorian could see his breath in the dim light as he tried to keep his thoughts from spiraling.
They had managed to build a small fire near the entrance of the cave, the smoke curling up and out through a crack in the rock above. The flames flickered and danced, casting a soft, warm glow on the walls of the cave. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep the chill at bay, and for now, it made the space feel a little less suffocating.
Rhys leaned against the cave wall, his injured arm resting in his lap, his face still pale from the pain. Despite everything, though, there was a softness in his eyes as he watched the fire, his body relaxing slightly in the warmth.
Dorian, on the other hand, couldn't relax. He sat close to the fire, his arms wrapped around his knees as he stared into the flames, his mind racing with everything that had happened. The panic, the fear, the way he had lashed out at Rhys—it was all weighing on him now, heavy and sharp, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
The cave was small enough that they had to huddle together for warmth, their bodies close as the cold air swirled around them. Dorian could feel the heat from Rhys beside him, the steady presence grounding him in a way he hadn't expected. But even that wasn't enough to silence the thoughts racing through his mind.
"I'm sorry," Dorian said suddenly, his voice low and rough as he stared into the fire. "For... earlier. For blaming you."
Rhys glanced over, his brows furrowing slightly. "You don't have to apologize."
"No," Dorian said quickly, his chest tightening as the guilt pressed down on him. "I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't fair. You didn't... you didn't deserve that."
The words tumbled out before Dorian could stop them, his voice thick with regret. He had let his fear take over, had lashed out at Rhys in a moment of panic, and now, in the quiet of the cave, the weight of it all was sinking in.
Rhys watched him for a moment, his expression softening. "Dorian, it's okay. You were scared. We both were."
Dorian shook his head, his hands clenching into fists as he looked down at the ground. "I'm supposed to be better than that," He muttered, his voice trembling with frustration. "I'm supposed to know how to stay calm, how to... how to ground myself."
His chest tightened, the familiar pressure of expectation weighing heavy on his shoulders. He had spent his entire life learning how to stay in control, how to never let his emotions get the better of him. But here, in the middle of a storm, he had let it all fall apart.
"I shouldn't have panicked like that," Dorian continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. "I shouldn't have blamed you. I'm... I'm supposed to be better than that."
Rhys' eyes softened even more, his face etched with understanding as he shifted closer to Dorian. "Dorian," He said gently, his voice calm and steady. "You don't have to be perfect all the time. It's okay to be scared. It's okay to mess up."
Dorian's breath hitched in his throat, the tight knot of guilt and frustration coiling tighter in his chest. "But I should've been able to handle it. I should've known how to—"
"Hey," Rhys interrupted softly, reaching out with his good hand to gently touch Dorian's arm. The warmth of his touch was grounding, steadying, and it sent a wave of calm through Dorian's racing thoughts. "You're human. You don't always have to be in control."
Dorian's jaw clenched, the words lodging in his throat as he stared at the ground, his mind still buzzing with the weight of his own expectations. But Rhys' touch, his voice, his presence—it was enough to make that weight feel just a little lighter.
"You've spent your whole life trying to be perfect," Rhys continued, his voice soft but firm. "But you don't have to be perfect for me. You don't have to carry everything by yourself."
The words hit Dorian harder than he expected, sinking deep into his chest and settling there, heavy and real. He had always felt like he needed to be perfect, like he needed to hold everything together no matter what. But here, in this moment, with Rhys sitting beside him, Dorian realized that maybe—just maybe—he didn't have to carry that weight alone.
Dorian's breath shuddered in his chest, his throat tight with unspoken emotions. He didn't know how to respond—didn't know how to let go of the expectations he had built around himself for so long. But Rhys' presence, the warmth of his touch, the calm in his voice—it made Dorian feel like maybe he didn't have to figure it all out right now.
"I'm sorry," Dorian whispered again, his voice barely audible. "For everything."
Rhys shook his head, his hand still resting gently on Dorian's arm. "You don't have to be sorry. We're in this together."
Dorian's chest ached, the vulnerability of the moment making his heart pound. He had spent so long keeping everyone at arm's length, so long pretending that he didn't need anyone. But here, with Rhys, in the quiet of the cave, Dorian couldn't pretend anymore.
For a long moment, they sat in silence, the fire crackling softly in front of them as the storm raged outside. The air was still cold, but the warmth between them—the quiet, unspoken understanding—was enough to keep the chill at bay.
Rhys shifted slightly, his good arm wrapping around his chest as he leaned back against the wall of the cave. "You don't have to do this alone, Dorian," he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper. "I've got you."
Dorian's heart tightened at the words, but this time, it wasn't the crushing weight of expectation. It was something softer, something real.
And for once, Dorian let himself believe it.