The Rise Of CuteGuy

Hurt

Cute Guy’s eyes were barely staying open, and his usual sharpness seemed to be slipping away with every passing second. His face was pale, dusted with debris, his clothes torn and stained from whatever we had just survived. I could barely catch my breath myself, but seeing him in this state made the weight in my chest feel even heavier. His usual mischievous spark was dimmed, replaced by exhaustion and something deeper that made my heart ache.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” I urged softly, reaching out to gently shake his shoulder. His head tilted slightly, and he blinked up at me, looking dazed. “Come on, don’t fall asleep yet, just keep talking, alright?”

He gave me a weak smile, his lips barely lifting at the corners. “You’re... really worried, aren’t you?” His voice was so hoarse, like every word took more effort than it should’ve.

“I’m fine, but you’re not,” I shot back, the words coming out a little more sharply than I intended. His gaze softened, as if he understood. He sighed deeply, his head falling back against the debris behind him.

“I’m just... so tired,” he murmured, his voice trailing off. “I don’t think I can stay awake much longer.” He sounded so vulnerable, his usual calm composure completely shattered. It took everything in me not to collapse next to him and just let the weight of everything wash over us.

“You need to stay awake,” I insisted, gripping his arm gently, trying to keep him alert. “Please, just for a little longer. I’ll... I’ll keep talking. You don’t have to say anything, just—just stay with me.”

He blinked slowly, clearly fighting to stay conscious. His eyes were unfocused, and I could see how hard it was for him to keep them open. “You’re always looking out for me, huh?”

I nodded, forcing a smile even though my heart was in my throat. “Of course. I... I need you to be okay, alright?”

His gaze softened just a little, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a faint, breathy laugh. "You’re a handful, you know that?" he whispered, his eyelids fluttering as his body finally seemed to surrender to the exhaustion.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, shaking my head, trying to keep my voice steady despite the panic bubbling in my chest. "But I’m not giving up on you, so don’t you dare give up on me."

He let out a soft, shaky breath, his hand finding mine weakly as he mumbled, “You’re something else, you know that?” Before I could respond, his grip slackened, his body going still against the wreckage.

I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest as I fought to keep the panic at bay. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He couldn’t fall asleep. Not like this. Not when I couldn’t protect him from whatever was out there.

“Grian?” I whispered, my voice breaking. No answer. “Grian... please.”

I scrambled to dig through the debris, panic clawing at my chest with every movement. My hands shook as I moved bits of rubble aside, desperately trying to find his medkit. The weight of the situation pressed down on me with each passing second, and my heart raced. I didn’t know how long we had been down here or if help was even on the way. But I had to find it. I had to do something.

His voice, faint but steady, cut through my frantic search. "You know... I was hurt more times than I could count," he murmured, his words almost too soft to hear, but they reached me. The quiet resilience in his tone was like a punch to the gut. I stopped for a moment, my breath catching in my throat.

I glanced at him, his pale face lit by the dim, flickering light from above. He was still trying to sit up, pushing weakly against the debris around him. He looked so fragile, so vulnerable, and I hated seeing him like this—more than I could put into words.