𝕴 𝖉𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘

Trente-deux

Underground Methods

Y/N had been lying in the snow for hours, his body barely moving, the cold biting at his skin. The wind howled through the desolate landscape, snowflakes swirling around him like tiny shards of glass. His chest, already weakened by his heart condition, ached with every shallow breath he took. His fingers, once clasped tightly around his chest in a futile attempt to warm himself, had gone numb long ago. The storm was relentless, and everything around him had faded into a white blur.

He was unconscious, his mind drifting in a haze between reality and a strange, comforting dream. His body felt like it was floating, weightless, as if the snow had swallowed him whole. But then, out of the darkness, he heard something—a voice, soft yet familiar. A voice he hadn’t heard in years.

“Y/N...”

His eyes fluttered, barely opening against the weight of exhaustion and the freezing cold. The voice called again, clearer this time, warm like a blanket in the bitter storm.

“Y/N, get up. It’s not time yet.”

His heart skipped. That voice... it was unmistakable. His sister. But how could that be? She was gone, taken from him far too soon. His memories of her were distant, wrapped in grief and sorrow. Yet here she was, speaking to him as if nothing had changed, as if she were standing right there in front of him.

With a monumental effort, he opened his eyes wider, squinting through the storm. And there she was, her form outlined in the snow, radiant against the cold, her eyes soft and kind like he remembered.

“Y/N,” she said again, her voice firm yet gentle, as if she were scolding him. “It’s not time for you to leave. You need to get up.”

He blinked, confusion washing over him. His mind felt slow, like it couldn’t keep up with what was happening. How could she be here? Was he dying? Was this the end?

“S-Sister...?” His voice came out weak, barely more than a whisper. His lips, cracked and frozen, struggled to form the words.

She smiled at him, a smile so warm and familiar that it made his heart clench. “Get up, Y/N. You’re not done yet.”

And then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone. Her figure faded into the snowstorm, disappearing like a mirage, leaving him cold and alone once more.

But something stirred within him. It was as if her words had reignited a spark deep inside, something that had been buried under layers of pain and fatigue. His limbs, though heavy with frostbite and exhaustion, responded to the call. Slowly, painfully, he moved.

With a groan, Y/N pushed himself up from the snow, his body protesting every movement. His heart pounded in his chest, weak but steady, as he forced himself to stand. His legs wobbled beneath him, threatening to give out, but he didn’t let them. He had to keep going.

Step by step, he began walking, each movement a battle against the storm and his own failing body. His vision blurred, the world around him spinning, but he kept his eyes forward. He didn’t know where he was going—he just knew he had to move. He couldn’t stay in the snow. He couldn’t give up, not yet.

The storm raged around him, the wind whipping at his face and tearing at his clothes, but through the flurry of snow, he saw something—a figure, running towards him. It was hard to make out in the blizzard, but as it grew closer, he could see the outline of a man, tall and urgent, cutting through the storm like a beacon of hope.

Y/N’s heart leapt, recognition flooding through him, but his body, already at its limit, couldn’t take another step. His knees buckled, and he collapsed into the snow, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He could feel his consciousness slipping again, the cold wrapping around him like a shroud.

But just before he hit the ground, strong arms caught him, pulling him up from the snow’s icy grip. Y/N blinked up, his vision swimming, and through the haze, he saw the familiar face of his husband—Pantalone.

“Y/N!” Pantalone’s voice cracked, full of worry and panic. His usually calm, composed demeanor was nowhere to be found as he held Y/N close, his hands trembling. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Y/N tried to speak, to say something, anything, but his voice wouldn’t come. His body was too weak, too cold. Instead, he let his head rest against Pantalone’s chest, feeling the warmth of his husband’s embrace seep into his frozen bones. For the first time in hours, the cold didn’t feel so unbearable.

Pantalone pulled him closer, wrapping his coat around Y/N’s frail body as he held him protectively. His eyes were wide, frantic as he scanned Y/N’s face, searching for any sign of life, of consciousness. He could feel Y/N’s shallow breaths against him, but it wasn’t enough to calm the terror that gripped his heart.

“You’re going to be okay,” Pantalone whispered, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Just stay with me, please.”

Y/N looked up, his vision still blurred, but he could see the raw emotion on Pantalone’s face. He had never seen his husband like this before, so vulnerable, so afraid. And for a moment, despite everything, Y/N felt a sense of peace. He was in Pantalone’s arms, and that was all that mattered.

But his body had reached its limit. The pain, the cold, the exhaustion—it was all too much. His eyes fluttered shut once more, his consciousness slipping away as he rested his head against Pantalone’s chest.

Pantalone’s breath hitched as he felt Y/N go limp in his arms. Panic surged through him again, but he forced himself to stay calm, to keep his mind clear.

With renewed determination, Pantalone scooped Y/N up into his arms, cradling him against his chest as he turned back towards the estate. The storm raged on, but he didn’t care. All that mattered now was getting Y/N home, getting him warm, getting him help.

“I won’t let you go,” Pantalone murmured, his voice hoarse as he pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “Not now. Not ever.”

—————>

Thanks for reading!

Please inform me of any grammar mistakes or typos.

Edited: n/a
Posted: 22nd September 24
Word count: 1098 SORRYYYY