The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, mixed with the ghostly warmth of the evening sunlight filtering through the window.
Lucien carried an air of quiet reticence as he placed a neatly folded set of clothes at the foot of the bed. There was a muted sound of fabric shifting, followed only by the soft rustle of his uniform as he straightened.
Today, he had been at his father's beck and call, receiving phone calls every hour inquiring about Noah's condition. It was as if his father expected some drastic change to occur within mere minutes. Lucien offered succinct updates before ending the conversation each time.
If John hadn't been busy himself, it was entirely possible that he would have come straight to the campus.
Now, standing in the orange glow of the infirmary, Lucien exhaled quietly before addressing Noah.
"Change into this. I'll take you back to your room," he said, his gaze flickering to the two figures still closely nestled together.
"Okay," Noah mumbled. He shifted slightly, attempting to sit up, but a tug at his wrist made him pause. He turned his head, blinking hazily at Theodore, who was still holding onto him, causing his breath to hitch slightly.
"Ehh… tha—"
"Why don't you let him go? He has to change," Lucien said flatly.
Theodore hummed thoughtfully, tightening his hold just slightly as he nuzzled his cheek against Noah's feverish skin. "But Noah's too cute," he murmured, the teasing lilt in his voice evident. "Makes me want to hold him forever."
Noah stiffened, his heart thudding unexpectedly at the warmth of Theodore's skin against his own. His pulse quickened even more, and he wasn't sure if it was from discomfort or something else entirely.
". . . . ."
Lucien remained eerily still, his silence seeping into the air like looming frost.
The moment stretched long enough for Noah to feel a strange tension creep into the room, like an invisible weight pressing down on him. Then, finally, Lucien spoke, his tone carrying the faintest edge of impatience.
"Theo, I'm quite busy."
Even though the remark wasn't aimed at him, Noah's stomach tensed involuntarily as he momentarily glanced at his brother, sensing an underlying coldness beneath his calm exterior.
"Alright, alright," Theodore relented with a smirk, raising both hands in mock surrender.
He turned back to Noah, a slow smile spreading across his lips. "Let's meet again after you get better." Then, with deliberate ease, he reached out and took Noah's small hand in his own, pressing a light kiss to his skin.
Noah jolted in surprise at the unexpected gesture. His fingers twitched in Theodore's grasp as the warmth of his lips lingered—it was soft and fleeting. Yet somehow, it sent a strange shiver down his spine and left behind a sensation that made his heart jump.
He stared, wide-eyed, as Theodore pulled away, flashing him a teasing smile.
Theodore had always been playful, but there was something different about the way he was behaving today. His affection felt heavier and more deliberate, somehow leaving an odd lump in Noah's throat.
Perhaps he felt guilty about yesterday, and this was his way of making it up to him. That was the only reason Noah could think of right now.
"Take care," Theodore murmured before stepping back.
Despite his exhaustion, Noah offered a warm smile, his eyes gleaming softly despite the pallor of his fevered face. Even sickly and drenched in sweat, he resembled a fragile rabbit caught in the rain, trembling yet undeniably endearing.
Theodore chuckled, giving him one last wave before strolling out the door. Noah instinctively lifted his hand in return, watching until the door clicked shut behind him.
The hush crept back, wrapping the space in stillness.
Noah let out a slow breath before gathering enough strength to push himself toward the foot of the bed, where the fresh clothes rested. The familiar scent of detergent reached him as he got closer. It was fresh and comforting, a stark contrast to the sterile scent of the infirmary.
His fingers traced over the fabric, and realization dawned on him. These were the same ones he had washed and tucked into his cupboard.
Lucien must have gone to his room to retrieve them for him.
A pang of guilt settled in Noah's chest. Lucien was undoubtedly busy, yet he had taken the time to look after him. It was something Noah was really grateful for.
Hugging the clothes to his chest, Noah glanced around, unsure where to change.
Meanwhile, Lucien reached out and grabbed the handle of the window, closing it with a quiet thud. The fading orange light of the evening cast a soft glow over the glass, filtering through the translucent surface.
"Just change here," he said. "You can't even stand properly."
Noah blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the suggestion.
Lucien didn't elaborate. He moved smoothly across the room, drawing the white curtain around the bed, enclosing them in a private space. Earlier, the curtain had been left open to allow fresh air to circulate. With no other patients in the room, it hadn't mattered. But now, with the need for privacy, he secured it shut.
"If you need help, call me."
Noah nodded, his fingers unclenching slightly around the fabric.
Lucien adjusted the curtain one last time before stepping back and turning his head slightly towards Noah.
"Leave the clothes you're wearing on the bed. The staff will take care of them."
Noah followed his gaze downward, only now paying attention to what he had been wearing this whole time.
The shirt and trousers were made from pale blue fabric, which made his already sickly complexion appear even weaker. The material felt light and soft to the touch yet clinical, the kind that absorbed sweat too easily but provided little warmth.
It must have belonged to the infirmary, meant for sick patients.
"I'll do that," Noah responded quietly.
Lucien gave a small nod before stepping away, disappearing beyond the curtain.
- - -
It took Noah longer than expected to change.
His movements were sluggish and clumsy, his fingers fumbling with each button, and beads of sweat formed anew with every slight shift. It was as though his body were working against him, each motion demanding more effort than it should.
His head felt unbearably heavy, forcing him to pause every now and then just to catch his breath. By the time he was finally dressed, he was completely drained.
Stepping out from behind the curtain, he found Lucien still waiting, his gaze fixed blankly ahead as if deep in thought. At the sound of shuffling footsteps, he turned and saw Noah approaching at a slow pace.
Lucien stared vacantly, taking in the unsteady posture and lingering fatigue on the young boy's features.
He moved closer without a word and extended his arm. A trembling pale hand reached out, its fingers grasping lightly at the fabric of Lucien's sleeve before leaning into him for support.
Lucien, unfazed, adjusted his hold subtly on the sickly boy, firm yet careful. He didn't say anything and walked at a measured pace, matching each step to Noah's weakened ones.
As much as Noah wanted to carry his own weight, his body had other plans. Each step felt heavier than the last, his breath growing more ragged.
Before he knew it, he was clinging to Lucien more desperately than he intended.
Each time he wavered, Lucien's presence remained constant and steady. It grounded him in a way that was unfamiliar yet strangely reassuring.
The walk back was slow and quiet. The hallways stretched long before them, now empty in the late evening. They were bathed in the deep crimson glow of the setting sun filtering through the windows, painting long shadows across the floor and walls.
An eerie calm settled over the space.
The only sound accompanying them on their slow journey was the faint, rhythmic echo of their footsteps.
After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached Noah's room. Lucien pushed the door open, the hinges creaking softly in the silence.
At once, his roommates looked up, their expressions shifting between relief and restraint. Though they were clearly eager to ask questions, they hesitated under Lucien's presence, their words dying before they could form.
Lucien guided Noah toward his bed, helping him ease down onto the mattress.
"Rest for a few more days," he advised before turning to the others. "Take care of him. Call me if anything happens."
The three nodded in unison. "We will."
Lucien gave one final glance at Noah before turning to leave.
The second the door clicked shut behind him, the atmosphere shifted instantly.
Noah barely had time to speak before his roommates rushed to his bedside.
"You really scared us, man." Dorian let out a dramatic sigh.
"Yeah, we were debating whether to sneak into the infirmary or not," Silas added, half-jokingly.
Noah managed a tired chuckle, the sound soft and breathless. "I'm okay," he reassured them, though his voice was hoarse.
His head sank into the soft pillow, and fatigue pulled at him almost instantly. Their voices blurred together, distant yet comforting, like the steady hum of rain against a window.
His last conscious thought was the lingering warmth of Lucien's presence beside him.
And then, everything faded into quiet darkness.