Twisted Devotion(BTS X Hobi)

12~ Fragile Comfort

Authors pov

Hoseok’s eyes fluttered open, the faint light from the window casting a gentle glow over the room. He felt a cool, damp rag resting on his forehead, its chill a brief relief from the fever that burned through him. As his senses began to focus, an overwhelming wave of nausea hit him, and he realized he was about to be sick.

A gentle hand rested on the back of his head, guiding him toward a bowl beside the bed. Hoseok’s body convulsed as he vomited, the contents of his stomach emptying into the bowl. The sound of retching and the sour taste in his mouth made him shudder, but the hand on his head remained steady and comforting.

When the wave of sickness finally subsided, Hoseok pulled away, collapsing back onto the bed. His eyes were hollow, staring vacantly at the ceiling. He heard a soft sigh from beside him and turned his head to see a maid sitting by his side.

The middle-aged woman offered him a warm, sympathetic smile. She brushed his hair back gently and hummed a soothing melody, her presence a small, yet significant comfort in the midst of his torment. Hoseok knew she was aware of what had transpired the previous night; his screams had echoed through the halls, leaving little to the imagination.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly, her voice carrying genuine concern. “You’ve developed a high fever, but you’ll be okay soon.”

Hoseok turned away, unable to meet her gaze. The woman's words, though kind, did little to soothe the pain that still burned inside him. Her sigh was heavy with empathy as she watched him closely.

“My poor child, What did they do to you?” she asked gently, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The question pierced through Hoseok’s fragile state, and the memories of the night before surged back with a cruel intensity. His eyes snapped open, tears pooling as the horrific images replayed in his mind. The pain and humiliation felt like a relentless assault, each memory a fresh wound.

He began to cry again, his sobs breaking the silence of the room. His heartbreak was palpable, a deep, aching sorrow that seemed insurmountable. The maid’s hand found his again, this time offering a more steady comfort.

“It’s all right,” she murmured, her voice soothing. “Everything is going to be fine. You will recover, I promise.”

Hoseok shook his head, his voice a mere rasp, barely audible over his tears. “I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this,” he said, his voice raw and fragile from the screams of the previous night.

The woman continued to hum softly, her presence a small but steady anchor in the storm of Hoseok’s emotions. “You’re stronger than you know,” she said softly. “And though it may not feel like it now, you will heal.”

Hoseok closed his eyes once more, exhaustion and despair pulling him back into the darkness. The gentle hum of the maid’s song and the comforting warmth of her hand were the last things he felt before he drifted back to sleep, his mind seeking refuge from the relentless pain.