Chapter 26- Sick

Noah's vision swam in a chaotic blur, shapes and colors bleeding together in a haze. An incessant ringing drilled into his skull, drowning out every other sound. It was sharp and relentless, like a high-pitched scream echoing in an empty hall, reverberating endlessly in his head.

He groaned, the sound hoarse and pained, as he clenched his eyes shut against the overwhelming sensation.

It felt like a storm inside him. His thoughts tangled and frayed, fever heat roaring through his body, his skin sticky and damp. Every shallow breath scraped against the dryness of his throat, like sandpaper grinding against raw flesh.

Gradually, the haze began to lift. The ringing dulled to a faint hum as shapes solidified before him. The blur sharpened, edges and colors coming into focus with every agonizing second.

The first thing his eyes latched onto was a head of silver hair, glinting softly like frost kissed by the first light of dawn, each strand radiating a pale luminescence in the warmth of the sun. It caught his attention, the image searing itself into his mind as if it were the only thing grounding him to reality.

Noah groaned again, his body trembling with the effort of staying conscious. His head throbbed mercilessly with a dull pulse, and his chest heaved as he struggled to fill his lungs.

The room around him was bright, bathed in sunlight that pooled across the floor in warm, golden streams. The faintest breeze danced in through the open window, carrying the clean scent of fresh-cut grass and rain-soaked earth. It brushed against Noah's overheated skin, momentarily cooling the heat that radiated from him like a furnace.

Shelves lined one side of the pristine white room, stacked neatly with jars of herbs and tinctures, while a faint medicinal tang lingered in the air, mingling with the sharper tang of alcohol.

He could hear faint murmurs and laughter outside the infirmary, students passing by in hushed conversations. Footsteps clicked against the hallway tiles, the sounds fading into the distance, leaving behind a cocoon of peace inside the room. The only other sound was the gentle rustle of paper as Lucien turned the pages of the book he was reading.

Lucien sat poised in a chair beside the bed, dressed in his crisp black uniform. The light streaming in from the window behind him created an almost ethereal glow, outlining his figure in a golden halo.

Noah's gaze lingered on Lucien for a moment longer than he intended, his haggard breathing filling the silence. His eyes drifted to the book in Lucien's hands, its dark cover worn at the edges, with a schematic of interlocked gears adorning its surface. He glanced away, feeling it would be rude to continue gawking.

"Finally awake?" Lucien's voice cut through the quiet, low and steady, his golden eyes never lifting from the pages of his book.

"Yes…" Noah rasped weakly. Embarrassment crept up his face as he became acutely aware of how disheveled he must look in front of his brother.

"The doctor stepped out for lunch," Lucien continued. "He'll return shortly. Tell him how you're feeling when he's back."

"Okay…" Noah nodded, his head too heavy to lift fully. He shifted, attempting to prop himself up on one elbow, but his body betrayed him. A wave of nausea rolled over him, and the throbbing in his head intensified, like a relentless drumbeat echoing through his skull.

Lucien sighed quietly, the sound barely audible but heavy with an edge of disapproval. He set the book aside with a soft thud and rose from his chair in one smooth motion. "What are you doing?" he asked, his tone calm but firm.

Noah flinched, mistaking the steady question for irritation. His body tensed instinctively and froze in place as guilt crept up his spine.

Without another word, Lucien stepped closer and placed a hand on Noah's shoulder, steadying him. His long fingers pressed firmly through the thin fabric of Noah's shirt, the heat of the boy's fevered skin bleeding through to his palm.

Noah's breath hitched as Lucien leaned closer, his golden eyes locking on his. It was the first time Noah had seen them this close. The sunlight reflected in Lucien's sharp gaze, scattering like shards of amber caught in a kaleidoscope, their depths swirling with a quiet intensity that was almost mesmerizing.

"T-Thank you, Brother…" Noah whispered, his voice raw and scratchy, each word catching in his dry throat. Even he was startled by the roughness of his tone. His hand instinctively moved to his throat, trying to soothe the itchiness.

But before he could rubbed against it, a larger hand engulfed his own, gently pushing it away.

"Don't press on it," Lucien said softly, his voice calm but carrying an unyielding authority. "You'll make it worse."

Noah blinked up at him, his lips parting in surprise. Lucien's face was as impassive as ever, but his presence didn't feel as cold as it usually did, much to his relief.

"Sorry…" Noah muttered meekly, his gaze flickering downward, unable to hold Lucien's steady stare.

Lucien silently adjusted the pillows behind Noah, smoothing and layering them to provide firm support. A hand settled firmly at Noah's waist, fingers wrapping around with an effortless firmness. He leaned in and pulled the sick boy closer with quiet precision, drawing Noah upward so he could be positioned properly against the pillows.

As their proximity closed, the feverish heat radiating from Noah's body gradually seeped into Lucien's own, spreading across his skin in a way that felt faintly ticklish.

"Lean back," Lucien said, his voice calm and measured, more an instruction than a request.

Noah barely had time to react as he was tilted backward. The unfamiliar shift made him instinctively reach out, searching for something stable to keep himself from falling. But all that was within reach was Lucien. His hand froze mid-air, hesitating mere inches from his brother's uniform sleeve. He recoiled just as quickly, afraid of overstepping.

The gentle pressure of Lucien's fingers on Noah lingered just long enough to steady him before withdrawing.

Once Noah was settled, he returned to his chair with practiced ease. He picked up the book that had been resting there and sat down, the faint rustle of pages breaking the silence as he reopened it.

Noah sat still, his fingers fidgeting nervously with the edge of the blanket. The silence in the room pressed down on him, heavy and uncomfortable, amplifying the sound of his own uneven breathing.

"I heard the security guard found you unconscious at the gate," Lucien said suddenly, breaking the silence. His gaze remained fixed on the book, his tone as calm as if he were commenting on the weather. "What were you doing there so late?"

Noah swallowed hard, the motion painful against his sore throat. "I… was waiting… for someone," he managed to say, his voice hoarse and uneven.

"That late?" Lucien asked, flipping a page with unhurried precision. His tone remained calm, but there was an edge to his words, like a blade hidden beneath silk. "Isn't your curfew at 7 P.M.?"

Noah lowered his gaze, his shoulders slumping under the weight of Lucien's words. He knew he was in the wrong and didn't dare argue. "I-I didn't realize… It was still early when I got there," he muttered weakly, his voice trailing off. "Sorry…"

"How long did you stay out in the rain?" Lucien asked, leaning back in his chair.

Noah hesitated, his mind scrambling for words. "Th-three hou-….. I don't know…" he stammered, unsure of his answer. The memory was fragmented, the dampness of the ground and the cold seeping into his skin were the only things he could recall before everything went dark.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out quickly, his words tumbling over each other.

Lucien didn't respond and continued to study him, his golden eyes unwavering. Noah could feel the weight of that gaze, his own heartbeat loud and frantic in his ears.

After a moment, Lucien sighed softly, the sound almost too quiet to hear. "A total idiot," he muttered, his tone flat but tinged with a hint of exasperation.

Noah blinked in surprise, his head jerking up. "Huh?" he murmured, unsure if he had heard correctly.

"I'll try to be better, Brother Lucien," Noah said earnestly.

Lucien glanced back at him, his expression unchanging, but there was something almost sardonic in the faint quirk of his brow.

Before either of them could say more, the distant bell tolled from the campus tower, its chime reverberating through the air and marking the end of the break.

Lucien stood, the movement smooth and purposeful. The book was tucked neatly under his arm as he adjusted his uniform jacket. "Rest," he instructed simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You can return to your room in the evening."

"Okay," Noah murmured, obedient as always. His gaze followed Lucien's retreating figure until the soft click of the door signaled his departure.

For a while, the hurried footsteps and muffled chatter of students filled the corridor, a fleeting reminder of the world outside. But soon, even that faded, leaving only the gentle rustle of the wind slipping through the open window.

Noah sank deeper into the pillows, the warmth of the sun pooling on the floor catching his eye.His chest rose and fell in a quiet rhythm as he let out a soft sigh, the silence wrapping around him like a gentle shroud.