Of moonshine and memories | BoyXBoy

In sickness and serenity

The door clicked shut behind me, and the silence of the apartment hit like a wave. Lucian was already at the bar, leaving the place eerily still, just the sound of my own footsteps echoing in the empty space. I leaned against the wall for a second, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, trying to block out the pounding headache that had been building for hours.

I felt... off. Not just tired, though I hadn't slept well in days. This was worse. My whole body felt heavy, like I was dragging myself through quicksand.
I made my way toward the couch, feeling my legs wobble beneath me. But as soon as I collapsed onto the cushions, my head spinning, I knew something wasn't right. My vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness washed over me, making it impossible to focus.

I planned to sit, but the second I hit the couch, my body gave in. Everything around me faded as darkness pulled me under.

When I came to, everything felt fuzzy. The dim light in the room blurred at the edges of my vision, and the dull throb in my head hadn't let up. It took a second to realize what was happening. That the warmth I felt wasn't from the couch, but from hands. Lucian's hands cupping my face, steadying me.

Lucian's voice cut through the haze, though I couldn't make out the words just yet. My eyes blinked open, focusing slowly on his face, his brow furrowed, jaw tight, and a look I rarely saw on him. Panic. His eyes searched mine, his hands still holding me as though I might disappear any second.

"The fuck is wrong with you?" His voice was rough, filled with concern he was trying to mask with frustration.

I tried to speak, but my mouth was dry, and all I could manage was a weak sound, my head still foggy. Lucian's grip tightened for a second before he let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing against my cheek.

His hand shifted from my cheek to my forehead, his palm pressing against my skin. His expression hardened as he felt how hot I was. His lips tightened into a thin line, and he gave me that look. The one that was somewhere between pissed off and worried sick.

"What the hell, Vin?" He muttered, his voice quieter now but still rough around the edges. "What the fuck is going on with you?"

I swallowed, the dryness in my throat making it hard to answer. "I... I don't feel well." My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Lucian huffed, dragging a hand through his hair in clear frustration. "Yeah, I can fucking see that." His words were sharp, but the tension in his body told a different story. He was worried. Really worried. "How long have you been like this?"

I hesitated for a moment, swallowing against the dryness in my throat. "Ever since the promotion... things just got more stressful. I've been feeling overworked... and a little sick for a while."

Lucian's jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching. "That's been nearly two weeks." He growled, shaking his head in disbelief. "Two weeks? Are you serious? This is what you get for overworking your ass." His frustration was palpable, but I could see the concern behind his eyes, barely hidden under the tough exterior.

I didn't have the strength to defend myself, just nodded weakly, feeling the weight of his words.

Lucian let out a sharp exhale, clearly torn between frustration and worry. "Hang in there." he muttered, standing abruptly and heading for the door.

As the door closed behind him, I slumped back against the couch. For a second, I thought he had gone back to work, leaving me to deal with the consequences of my own stubbornness. My chest tightened at the thought.

But a few minutes later, the door creaked open again. Lucian stepped back in, holding a pack of painkillers and some water. "I stopped by the pharmacy and had to throw a few people out to close the bar early." He muttered, walking over and kneeling beside me again.
"Now take this before you pass out again, idiot."
His words were gruff, but the care in his actions spoke volumes.