His Fragile Rose. [Completed]

Cresent Orbs And Repercussions.

Who's excited to read? Here you go!

Can't promise an early update next, cause the fallen response in the previous chapter, reduced my enthusiasm to write faster.

Caution - The chapter contains less dialogs and more of elaborated emotions.

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"The little crescent orbs,
dimmed in agony,
yet shimmered with love."

_Aastha.

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The strangled gasp from her trembling lips went unnoticed, as the white lines blurred his eyesight, flinching when he opened them into narrowed little slits, the parted crescent eyelids barely letting the gray pupils peep, as he heard the commotion, the faint beeps aligning in his ear, with rapid buzz of alarm and few rushed footsteps crowding near him few seconds later.

"Akshu." She whispered, her hands involuntarily pouting with relief when she held his face, gently letting his eyes meet hers, not letting the tears block her vision, the vision she prayed for since four fucking days. He had woken up, finally, like always keeping his family above himself, above the crunches playing his heart, above his crushed self.

He exhaled a choked breath, as he blinked, the little crescent eyelids widening as he took her in. He stared at her with a foreign look, his mind refusing to identify her, going blank. And seconds later blinking again and again when the white lines started blending with agonizing memories, and the blank hue replaced with the brutal torrent of his crushed heart.

The flashbacks that played in his eyes when he was surrendering to the drowsy peace of those seeping pills, in what he presumed were his dying breaths, played once again, the same flashbacks. The relief on her face painfully contrasted to the contours of pain in his eyes. The flashbacks were followed by every crunch the family, his family, had presented him with.

Every word which broke his heart into pieces, spoken by the same people who he loved more than his own breaths. His best friend, the one he felt was his eternal support, his mother who was his comfort in every situation, his sister who was his crown, and his rose who he loved with the whole of him.

The love surely had it's own malicious wonders.

So painfully malicious.

"Akshu. How are you feeling? Any pain? The medical team will be here soon to check you up. Do you feel-" Mehak rushed, gulping rapidly to clear her dry throat, but paused when he blinked his eyes close. To her eyes, it looked like he was tired or in some pain, but in his eyes, he was shielding his tears from cascading down.

He felt her hands had enveloped his, a grip with assurance, but his battered heart couldn't help but weave all the crunches he was bestowed with. He was convinced that it was a dream, or perhaps another torment weaved by his mind. And he wished for the same relief to consume him with the sleep. Her fingers tightened around his when she didn't find his eyes opening again, scared that she'd again lose him.

Piyush and Aarush were startled when they saw nurses rushing inside the room. Aarush faltered, imagining the worst, his eyes freezing on the door but recognizing nothing but the glossy layer of his own tears. Piyush noticed him shivering like a leaf, and strengthened himself, knowing he was scared of the same consequences.

He kept his hands on his shoulder, a silent gesture to help Aarush to hold his sanity together, but his hand fell limp at his side when Aarush robotically stood up, fisting his hand painfully strong, the reminder of the incision he had drawn on his wrist earlier. He staggered on those two small steps, reaching the glass door, before harshly wiping the moisture from his fists.