STABLE BOY ; Trash of the Count's Family

64. RELY

"You okay, South?"

"Huh?" South had to take a moment to understand why he was being asked that. He wasn't the one injured, dying, and bleeding out. He wiped away the sweat on his chin with his sleeve and sighed. "Yeah?"

Hans' hands were hot against his cheeks, and he winced as the butler cupped his face in his hands.

"You're too cold. We need to get you warmed. Let's hurry to the sitting room," Hans ushered. South noticed that Hans looked pale, frazzled, and maybe he was using that adrenaline to keep moving his feet, to keep distracting himself from what happened. "Kitties, come."

Hong and On glanced concerned at the door, but nodding toward the invisible dragon, they followed.

"Hans-hyung—" whatever South wanted to say was cut off by his next step, where everything tilted sharply sideways and he collapsed against the wall with a heave, barely keeping himself upright.

He cursed under his breath. Everything was spinning. His head felt like it was being clawed open, he couldn't keep his eyes open, and his stomach churned like he needed to throw up. His hands clenched so hard against himself and the wall that his knuckles were white, but even when he let out a breath trying to calm down, he couldn't unclench them.

But no.

This pain is Ron's, and it's getting worse because that bastard is sitting up, talking. He's treated, but now that adrenaline is filing out of Ron's body, the pain crescendoes.

Cale better finish that conversation and let that dumbass sleep already. With how much blood Ron lost, South can't give this pain back until he's asleep. A human body isn't made to handle this type of exchange of sensations, so Ron might die of shock if South returns it too suddenly.

He has to hold onto this just a little longer.

His hands were cold and they shook against his will. He clenched his teeth, because he was making noises he didn't want to. When Hans wrapped his arms around him, his body heat was almost achingly hot against South's own.

He hated this. Everything about this. He just wanted to sleep, fall unconscious, anything, he could feel it coming toward him, but he couldn't let go of it yet.

"...It's okay," Hans's voice was a mere whisper at his side, his hands rubbing soothingly on South's back, holding onto him so crushingly tight and desperate it kind of hurt. "It's okay, dongsaeng-ya. It's okay already. Just sleep. Please..."

South wanted to yell at him, no, it's not okay, he can't let go yet. Hans didn't understand why South did things, that's fine. South just had to hold on a little longer.

It's fine. It's not the worst he's taken.

This body is just too weak to hold onto it, that's all. If I was in my old body, this would be easy. I could've still been fighting, this much pain is nothing. This body just didn't have the strength to stay standing, that's all. It's kind of pathetic, actually.

He'll be fine. He'll be fine.

If he closed his eyes, he could maybe remember the comforting presence that always talked him through his worst moments. (But he won't hear him again, so he can only imagine.) Maybe if he lets himself dream of good things, he'll remember how those days felt once more. (But that kind of dream would be so cruel, wouldn't it?)

"South, please. Do you trust me?"

He doesn't recall who's talking, for a moment.

"Yeah...?"

"Then sleep. It'll all be okay, I promise."

Oh.

If you're saying it, then it must be true.