The room was silent.
Moonlight cast a pale glow over the faded bedsheets, revealing a slender figure lying still. The breeze stirred the curtains, shadows swaying gently against the walls.
A quiet breath trembled.
Fingers twitched.
Then, eyelids fluttered open.
Lucian woke up.
…Pain.
A dull, throbbing weight pressed against his skull, each pulse sending sharp aches through his head. His senses were slow to return, his vision blurry and unfocused.
Where… am I?
The scent of aged wood filled his nose. The air was too still. Too quiet. He wasn't used to this kind of silence.
This room… This wasn't his room.
That realization hit him like a slap to the face.
Lucian bolted upright. The world tilted, spinning in a nauseating blur. His fingers curled against the cold sheets.
The window.
He needed to get out.
The door creaked open.
Bastian stepped inside, careful, deliberate—his movements barely making a sound. Moonlight touched his face, painting him in soft silver hues.
And then he saw him.
Lucian.
His boy…
There he was, lying in his bed, his breath still unsteady, his lashes trembling ever so slightly. Even so, he was beautiful—delicate, fragile, a white bloom in the quiet of the night.
Bastian moved closer, silent as a whisper.
How long had he waited for this moment?
Lucian's breath rose and fell in slow, quiet waves. The sight of it sent a shiver of something indescribable through Bastian's chest—sweet, heady, intoxicating. It wrapped around him, tightening like a vice.
He was here.
Right in front of him.
Within his reach.
Bastian knelt by the bed, eyes never leaving Lucian's sleeping face.
He wanted to touch him—to run his fingers through those messy locks, to cup his cheek, to feel his warmth. But he had to be patient. He had to savor this moment just a little longer.
Instead, he reached forward, brushing his fingers lightly against Lucian's hair. Silken strands slipped between his fingers like the finest threads. His heart ached with something almost unbearable.
Lucian was the most beautiful dream he had ever had.
And tonight, he would not let that dream slip away.
Lucian stirred.
His breath hitched, his pulse hammering against his ribs. His vision was still hazy, but he could see the figure standing before him now—tall, unmoving, watching him.
No…
His chest tightened. He couldn't move.
Bastian was smiling. Soft, patient. As if he had all the time in the world to wait for Lucian's reaction.
But his eyes—
His eyes were too calm.
Too deep.
Too dark.
Lucian had seen this gaze before. Right before his world went black. Right before the darkness swallowed him whole.
And now, as he sat frozen in place, staring into those unblinking eyes—
He realized he was still trapped inside it.