Headache || Wriothesley

16

"Are you okay?" Y/n mocked, wincing as she placed her hand over the gash on her neck. "Do I look okay to you!?"

Wriothesley let out a dry chuckle, the sound oddly comforting amidst the chaos. "Well, when you put it that way," he replied, his voice rich with amusement, "I suppose 'okay' might be a bit of an understatement."

Despite the situation, Y/n couldn't help but roll her eyes at his response. Leave it to Wriothesley to crack jokes in the middle of a crisis. But she had to admit, his humor was helping to ease her fear, if only a little.

"Understatement of the year," she retorted, managing a weak smile despite the pain. "Next time, try leading with 'Are you still alive?' It's a bit more accurate." 

Wriothesley's laughter filled the room, a beacon of hope in the darkness. "Noted," he said, his voice warm and comforting. "Are you still alive, Y/n?"

"Unfortunately for you, yes," she shot back, her voice filled with mock annoyance. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Wriothesley scooped Y/n up in his arms, his grip firm yet gentle. He began to navigate through the chaos towards the Infirmiry, his steps steady and sure. Y/n could feel herself being carried away from the danger, the rhythmic motion of Wriothesley's steps oddly comforting.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me now," Wriothesley's voice echoed in the dimly lit corridor as he noticed her drooping eyelids. His voice was light, but Y/n could hear the underlying worry.

"I'm not... just resting my eyes," she managed to mumble, her words slurring together as her strength waned. Her world was starting to blur at the edges, the darkness creeping in.

Suddenly, Wriothesley's steps faltered. He glanced down at Y/n, his eyes widening as he noticed the gash on her neck. The wound was deep, blood seeping out and staining her clothes a dark, ominous red.

"Y/n," he said urgently. "Stay with me, okay? We're almost there."

But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Y/n's consciousness was slipping away, the pain and exhaustion pulling her under like a relentless tide.

The pain was almost unbearable, each jolt of Wriothesley's steps sending a fresh wave of agony through Y/n's body. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out, her body trembling in his arms.

"Put me down," she managed to gasp out, her voice barely above a whisper.

"No," Wriothesley responded instantly, his grip on her tightening. "We're almost there."

Y/n shook her head, the movement causing her to wince. "Wriothesley," she said, her voice firm despite the pain. "You need to listen to me."

He ignored her.

"Wriothesley," she scolded again.

Reluctantly, Wriothesley stopped, gently propping Y/n against a wall. She slid down into a sitting position, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. 

Once she was settled, she looked up at Wriothesley, her gaze steady. "Kiss me," she whispered, her voice soft but determined.

Wriothesley froze, his heart pounding in his chest. He had wanted to kiss Y/n for so long, had dreamt of it in the quiet moments when he allowed himself to hope for more. But not like this. Not when she was hurt and vulnerable.

 "Kiss you?" he repeated, his tone incredulous. He tried to laugh it off, to lighten the mood with humor. "I didn't realize near-death experiences could turn people into hopeless romantics."

But Y/n was serious. She looked up at him, her gaze steady despite the pain she was in. "I mean it, Wriothesley," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "If I'm going to die here, I don't want to have any regrets."