Sempiterno VI (AlanxJeff)

I don't want to go back.

 Jeff

I tossed and turned in bed, unable to find any comfort. My mind kept racing, like an endless carousel of thoughts, images, and emotions that I couldn't stop. Charlie had told me about the illegal fights that Alan and Babe took part in. He called it stupid, an absurd need for affirmation. I agreed with him. And now here I was, wide awake at two in the morning, unable to ignore the unsettling feeling gnawing at my chest.

I sighed deeply, trying to ignore the knot in my stomach. It wasn't that I cared about him... Not in that way, I told myself again. But the mere thought of him getting hurt, being vulnerable, haunted me. There was something about him, about his presence, about his scent that unsettled me, made me feel things I couldn't —or didn't want to— understand.

Sometimes, it was easy to tell myself I didn't care, that what I felt for him was nothing more than confusion. But when I remembered him, with that intense gaze, his scent that seemed to calm all the chaos inside me, I knew it was a lie.

It had been days since my kidnapping —though that word didn't quite feel right— and slowly I had fallen into the routine of this house. Everyone had given me space since I arrived, especially Alan, who kept a respectful distance. A distance that made me feel relieved but also strangely empty.

In the end, frustrated, I got up, unable to bear the oppressive sensation in my chest any longer. It wasn't that I was worried about him, I kept repeating to myself. But, even if they were alphas, even if they were monsters in our world, they were still human. What if something happened to him? What if Alan was seriously hurt? The thought churned my stomach, but I didn't want to dwell on it too much.

Unable to stand the stillness of the night any longer, I decided to go downstairs for a glass of milk, as if that could calm the unease in my chest. As I descended the stairs, the echo of my footsteps filled the silence of the house, a place that, strangely, no longer felt as hostile.

With the glass in hand, I was heading back to my room when I saw him. Alan was in the hallway, covered in blood and dirt. His face, usually so cold and perfect, was bruised and marked with wounds. My heart skipped a beat, and my steps faltered. Our eyes met, and for an instant, time seemed to stop. In his eyes, I no longer saw the feared capo. I saw a man, wounded, vulnerable. He looked ashamed, like a child who didn't want to be seen at his worst.

"Take a shower first," I said, trying to make my voice sound firmer than I actually felt. But inside, I was angry, confused. Why did he have to risk himself like that? Why hurt himself just for fun?

Alan frowned, looking confused for a moment, before a shy smile curled his lips. That smile, even in that state, was unfair. It made him look so human and at the same time unreachable. "Are you going to patch me up?" he asked, his voice low, almost hopeful.

My cheeks burned instantly. "Yes, why? Don't you want me to?" My voice came out more uncertain than I intended, and I felt a pang of embarrassment rush through me.

"Yes, I do," he replied quickly, and I saw a glimmer in his eyes that made me feel, for a second, like I was the most important thing to him.

"Fine, but not like this. It doesn't make sense to treat you while you're covered in... that," I said in a small voice, gesturing to the dirt and blood on his skin. "I'll wait for you in my room... but if you take too long, I'm going to sleep." I felt clumsy as I spoke, and my cheeks flushed with shame.

Alan's smile widened, and I could almost see the relief in his eyes. "I'll take a shower, I won't be long," he said with a mix of haste and excitement. Before he even finished speaking, he had already disappeared into his room.

I was left alone in the hallway, the echo of his footsteps still lingering. I couldn't help but smile to myself. Why did that warm feeling fill my chest just from seeing him smile? I went back to my room and prepared the kit with the bandages and ointments Charlie had brought me. Barely a few minutes later, I heard a soft knock on the door. Alan entered cautiously, his hair still damp, his eyes full of expectation.