CHAPTER 34: WAIT FOR ME.

Le An’s back rose and fell with shallow breaths, his forehead drenched in sweat, and in the darkness, occasional sharp spasms flickered through his groin, drawing small whimpers from him. Taras still couldn’t take his eyes off the scene before him; his mind was, to put it bluntly, shattered.

Never before had Taras found himself so indecisive and clueless about what to do in a room like this. He had never forgotten his purpose or why he wanted to confront the Treasure. It couldn’t be said that he still had forgotten; yet, tonight was as different as black and white, after seeing the real truths of this person...

Le An’s ragged breathing and the way he brought his hand to his neck while lying on his back made Taras slowly fix his gaze, with a lethal slowness, on Le An’s face—the face of a man he once thought lived among wealth, fame, and all manner of existence. A face he had assumed was very happy, very proud, and arrogant.

"Wate-wa..." Le An whispered faintly with a rasp in his lungs.

Taras glanced at the pitcher and glass on the nightstand, slowly reached out, and grasped the pitcher. Just as he was about to pour water into the glass, he stopped.

Didn’t I want him to die? What had changed?

He put the pitcher back on the nightstand and grabbed Le An’s shoulder, turning his face toward himself. Now looking at those parted lips, as if struggling for air, and the disheveled, flushed face that resembled a child’s, Taras remembered the first day he had seen Le An.

Then he remembered his father, how his father had stroked Le An’s head and then left with him, away from Taras.

That moment was the last time Taras had seen his father.

His hands froze stiff on Le An’s shoulders; he was afraid to hold the frail body too tightly and risk breaking it. If this hatred was to end with his death... How could I go on living without this hatred? He didn’t know what the feeling inside him was; yes, he knew something had changed, but he couldn’t name it. His hands slid down from Le An’s shoulders to his arms, and finally to his wrists. The body he held stirred uncomfortably, and Taras withdrew his hands before moving them any lower.

Time passed unnoticed in the darkness as he watched and thought about the Treasure, and when two hours had elapsed, he heard footsteps coming upstairs. Before shifting back into his shadow form, he took one last look at Le An.

It was time to leave this room.

Le An’s death was impossible unless it was by Taras’s own hand; these people had clearly risked everything -everything- to keep Le An healthy. Though painful for Le An, though he writhed in agony, the truth was that no one would kill him instead of exploiting him.

Taras blended into the shadows and waited for the door to open.

Footsteps stopped at the door, it opened, and Theo entered carrying a tray. He closed the door behind him.

But...

Taras. He didn’t leave the room.

"Le An," Theo gently took Le An’s body into his arms and began to caress his cheek. "Le An, wake up..."

The body in his arms didn’t respond at first. Then, after a few calls and touches to his face and nape, Le An’s eyes slowly opened; it was clear his vision and mind were still blurred. When he made a soft "Hm?" as if asking what was happening, Theo smiled with indescribable relief. As if nothing had happened two hours ago, Le An now answered him calmly and lucidly, albeit drowsily. "I’m here," Theo said, leaning Le An against the headboard.

Theo took a bowl of oatmeal and a spoon from the tray he had placed on the nightstand and approached Le An, sitting in front of him. Le An’s head kept nodding forward as if he were still half-asleep. "Your fever’s gone down," Theo said, still smiling. "So for now..." He carefully avoided reminding him of what had happened in the bath. "You need to eat something."

"..." Le An gave no response. Because Theo had sat him up with his legs extended, all the weight now pressed heavily on his groin; the warmth was slowly taking over his body as soon as he woke. Le An quietly drew his legs up and tried to lie on his side, but Theo held him back with one arm, gently trapping him between himself and the headboard.

"You haven’t eaten anything for two days," Theo said.

"Ugh..." Le An, distressed, brought his hands to his face and accidentally knocked the spoon that Theo offered him.

"I... don’t want-"

Theo brought the spoon back to Le An’s mouth. "No, ugh!"

He dodged the spoonful of porridge and tried to escape Theo’s arms. Theo held him tighter. "I’m sorry, but your vitals are still not okay."

Their struggle resulted in five forced spoonfuls into Le An’s mouth. Soon after, Le An began crying again and tried with all his strength to push Theo away.

But Theo didn’t budge; eventually, Le An’s hand hit the bowl, which fell and broke on the floor. Startled by the sharp sound, Le An flinched as Theo grabbed his face. "Le An, please-"

"I don’t w-want to..! Why? ha... unh, no!" Le An felt Theo’s pheromones and recoiled at the sensation between his legs, his body crashing like a magnet onto Theo’s. Theo then grabbed his jaw once again, forcing him to open his mouth. "Open."

"Uhm..!" He ate the last spoon.

An omega’s body didn’t truly need food while they were in rut. They only needed sexual and emotional intimacy for their body to recuperate. So, except for water, all this was unnecessary. Moreover, forcing so much on an omega only induced more fear.

Le An’s struggling body weakened as Theo withdrew the arm that held him tightly, and he collapsed onto Theo’s chest. The pheromones flooded his lungs, and Le An tried in vain to pull himself together. "Ugh, st-stay away..."

"...disgusting."

Theo flinched at the word.

Le An had never hated his pheromones before. He laid him back on the bed, and soon the door knocked; the doctor poked his head inside and spoke. "Let’s repeat the bath."

Le An’s agonizing cries tore through the night’s darkness once again, and the people who did this to him handled it with more practiced, automatic hands this time, quickly finishing the task and placing him back in the center of the bed. They gave him antiemetic medicine to prevent vomiting, and once again forcibly administered the mind-clouding pills down his throat.

Once they left, and the door shut behind them, Taras emerged from the shadow form and approached the bed. Le An was still half-awake and trembling. "Hey," Taras grabbed Le An’s arms. Le An desperately struggled to get away from the hands clinging to him. "N-no..."

Taras stared at the body struggling to escape, Le An’s eyes and lips tightly shut, tears streaming down his clenched eyelids again. "Shh..." Taras whispered, exhaling painfully, and with a finger gesture, he summoned the black tulle. His hands closed around Le An’s wrists, and Taras made the same movement that had woken Le An that night.

He slowly ran his thumbs over the backs of Le An’s hands.

When Le An’s wet lashes and lips slowly parted and his body stopped twitching, Taras couldn’t believe it worked again. This time, he gently pressed his fingers into Le An’s palms. "It’s me," he said, looking into Le An’s vacant eyes.

Le An looked at him, or rather, looked so deeply into Taras as if his eyes could touch his mind. His palms closed over Taras’s fingers and squeezed weakly. "You..." Le An whispered.

His face flushed even more, and Taras looked at their entwined hands before withdrawing them and gently taking Le An’s body in his arms.

"Yes," he said, feeling that indescribable sensation swell inside him as he noticed...

The heartbeat that always quickened at his presence now slowed down upon recognition.

Seeing him, Le An’s heart had relaxed. Ha. Now, Taras could feel this small omega’s heartbeat from the body leaning against his own. It felt as though for the first time, he was truly feeling his heart.

When he walked heavily toward the bathroom and the white light entered Le An’s sight, his body began to thrash again. "P-please..!"

Taras stood before the ice-cold tub, holding Le An in his arms. It’s okay, he was about to mutter, because he only wanted this light and weak body to stop. Yet this wouldn’t be the first time this sentence echoed in this bath.

Taras sighed, the disturbing screams still ringing in his ears.

Sitting down slowly with Le An, he held the body tightly as it tried to pull away. "You’re going to vomit," he said, tilting Le An’s chin and opening the toilet lid with his other hand. "Listen..."

Le An’s mind was in chaos as he clung to him, only trying to stay away from the tub. "I beg you, please..."

"It’s okay," Taras said, discomfort creeping in his voice as he repeated that phrase. "We need to make you vomit, understand?"

"..."

When Le An opened his eyes again, Taras looked at him questioningly. Le An grabbed his collar and tried to look closer, his hands touching Taras’s body, then slowly pulling away.

Unable to hold back any longer, Taras ran his hand through Le An’s hair, pushing all the strands back and gathering them in his palm without tugging. Looking at Le An’s revealed round face, the soft, wet strands slipped constantly and fell before his eyes.

Le An pushed a strand away from his eye with his hand and rubbed his eye. He groaned like a whiny child. "My eye..."

Taras lifted the strand with his finger and pushed it back. He brushed Le An’s hand away from his eye. "Don’t."

Taras leaned him over the toilet and slowly slid his index finger between Le An’s lips, pressing down on his tongue as he reached toward his throat. Le An gagged at the sensation and vomited. Soon, he started shaking and crying again, overwhelmed with weakness and confusion while clutching onto Taras.

This was the only way for him to escape the drugs.

Taras washed his face and picked him up again. He took him back to bed.

As soon as Le An’s eyes showed signs of falling asleep, he grabbed his face between his hands and shook him roughly. "Hey."

"..." Le An opened his eyes, but this time he couldn’t find Taras’s.

"Treasure," Taras shook him again, this time flicking his cheek a few times as he spoke. "Look at me."

"Don’t swallow the pills, do you hear me?"

"..." Taras grabbed Le An’s chin and pressed his forehead against his own fiercely. The sweet scent of pheromones and Le An’s warm breath hit his face. Taras held his breath and frowned. He locked eyes with Le An.

"You won’t swallow the pills, and you will wait for me. Do you understand?"

Le An’s head, caught between his hands, slowly nodded up and down. "Hm." He murmured, closing his eyes again.

"What won’t you do?"

"...I won’t swa-a-llow."

"..." After getting the answer he wanted, Taras watched Le An fall asleep and sighed.

Had he really understood? "You won’t swallow," Taras whispered once more. "Wait for me."

Le An scrunched his nose at the warm breath brushing against his face and tried to turn away, and he softly nodded again. Taras’s eyes froze on the small nose brushing against his own before pulling away.

And in the darkness of the night, doing something no one would ever know -nor could he hide it from himself- Taras lowered his nose to Le An’s nape, who remained oblivious to the chaos he stirred inside Taras’s mind, and drew in a sharp breath.

The air filling his lungs spread through his body like an unwelcome invader who should never have entered. "Ha..."

At this exact moment, as he looked at the person lying defenselessly in his arms, this person whose heart slowed and relaxed when he saw him just now, Taras faced a harsh truth. There was no sign of... evil in this face.

Their paths should never have crossed.

Taras lightly touched the three slash marks on Le An’s exposed shoulder with his fingers; cold reality and nakedness in his fingertips. He remembered what Le An had whispered in his sleep. ’Three slashes, you lied to me when you said it didn’t hurt.’

Yes, he had lied.

And there was only one way the Treasure could know this.

Because when it happened to him, it had hurt him too, and he had lied as well. Taras traced his fingers over each scratch on Le An’s shoulder.

Filled with rage at these things he didn’t want to accept, Taras felt as if a part of the hatred inside him was now hanging in the air.

He couldn’t take this hatred from him, the only feeling that kept Taras alive, the only thing keeping him going...

Taras got up from the bed and sank into the chair. "It’s not that easy," he murmured to himself.

But first, they had to get through this night.