The Rise Of CuteGuy

Unlucky

Hels' POV

Xavier was so light in my arms that it felt wrong. Like I was holding nothing but fragile bones and the weight of his own suffering. Any body mass he might have had—muscle, healthy fat—was gone. It was like his body had eaten away at itself just to keep him alive. The only thing that seemed to have any weight to it were his wings, and even those looked brittle, the bioluminescent red barely glowing, like a dying ember.

Once the nurses and doctors finished their immediate work and left us alone, I let out a slow breath. Wels was still beside me, just as shaken, but we both knew there was more to do. Xavier was asleep, barely moving, his breathing steady only because of that breathing apparatus. It was strange, seeing him like this, after all the years we spent looking. He was here. He was real. But he was so... broken.

I swallowed hard and turned to Wels. "Help me clean him up," I murmured, my voice rougher than I intended. "His hair—his whole body—he's a mess. If we don’t do something, his hair might be too far gone to save."

Wels nodded silently, already moving to gather supplies.

Carefully, I shifted Xavier's weight, laying him down as gently as I could. His hair was a matted mess, so filthy it was impossible to tell what color it was supposed to be. Dirt, dried blood, and who knows what else had turned it into a tangled, solid mass. I hated thinking about how long it had been since he'd had the luxury of clean water.

I ran a hand through my own hair, frustrated and overwhelmed. "Xavier... it took too long to find you. I'm sorry," I whispered, more to myself than to him. He was still unconscious, lost in whatever world his mind had retreated to.

I just hoped that, when he woke up, he would know he was safe.

"Xisuma, are you sure you're going to be okay with him using your breathing apparatus for the time being?" Wels' voice was laced with concern as he watched his brother adjust the equipment that was currently keeping Xavier stable.

I glanced over, noticing how Wels' eyes flicked between me and Xavier, worry etched into his features. He was always the one to double-check, to make sure none of us were pushing ourselves too far. But right now, Xavier was the priority.

"I'll be fine," Xisuma replied, his voice steady but tired. "I really don't need it at the moment."

I could tell Wels wasn’t entirely convinced, but he didn’t push it. Instead, I focused back on the task at hand, searching through the supplies for a container big enough to hold fresh, clean, soapy water.

The room was quiet except for the hum of machines monitoring Xavier’s vitals. He looked so small lying there—too small. His body barely moved except for the slow rise and fall of his chest, each breath assisted by the apparatus. It made my stomach twist.

I finally found a container and filled it with warm water, grabbing a washcloth as well. "Let’s start with his face," I muttered, kneeling beside the bed. "Get some of the grime off before we tackle his hair."

Wels nodded, pulling a chair closer. His movements were precise, careful—like he was afraid Xavier would break if we weren’t gentle enough. And honestly? I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t.

Being as gentle as possible, we wiped away what felt like years of grime and dirt from his face. I had almost forgotten how pale his skin was normally—underneath all that filth, he was nearly ghostly. The dark smudges beneath his eyes stood out even more against his now-clean skin, a stark reminder of just how exhausted and malnourished he was.

As we worked, I could feel how fragile he had become. His skin was cool to the touch, his body unnaturally light. Every time we shifted him slightly, I could see his wings twitch faintly, but he didn’t wake.