The Puppy Eyes Illness

Lucian had finished his training hours ago. His hair was damp with sweat, sticking stubbornly to his forehead, but he refused to let anyone touch him — especially not with a towel. Arin and Ryeon had done their best to keep him company, rotating between clumsy jokes and soft reassurances. They made sure he ate, even if it meant bribing him with candied fruits and sitting through his long, sullen silences.

But Lucian wouldn't take a bath.

"Father will wash me," he insisted, pouting as he yanked his arm away from Ryeon's gentle coaxing. "I'll wait till he returns."

The two exchanged a glance but said nothing more. It was strange. Strange and awkward — watching the boy dig his heels into that small detail with unwavering belief. He had always been odd, but tonight he seemed… fuzzier. Like something inside him had come loose and was fraying by the minute.

And still, Caelan hadn't returned.

Night crept in fully, shadows lengthening across the training grounds and halls. Lanterns had been lit, but not in Caelan's room.

That was what finally broke Lucian's patience.

He slipped away when Arin got distracted polishing a blade. Ryeon, only half-watching from the doorway, missed the quick dart of movement.

Soft-soled shoes slapped lightly against the floor as he ran through the corridors, small fists clenched at his sides, breath coming in little angry huffs. The palace guards didn't stop him. They recognized the boy, and more importantly, they knew better than to try.

He pushed open the heavy door to Caelan's quarters with more force than his body should've allowed.

"Cae—!"

The room was dark.

Lucian's voice caught halfway through the name.

The hearth had long since burned out, casting only the faintest orange glow from the embers. Her bed was untouched. The sword rack on the far wall was still locked. Everything was in its place — except her.

He stood in the doorway, panting, frustrated, a strange twist of dread creeping up his throat. His hands shook.

"He promised…" he mumbled.

"He said he wouldn't leave me here."

A moment of silence passed.

Then the door behind him clicked softly.

Lucian turned at the sound, blinking back the blur in his eyes.

Caelan stepped out of the adjoining washroom, her hair still damp, dressed in a light linen tunic and loosely tied trousers. Her sleeves were rolled up, and her skin held the faint warmth of steam. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes — but her gaze softened the moment she saw him.

"Lucian?" she said, crouching down to meet him. "You managed to escape from Arin and Ryeon?"

His lower lip trembled, and he looked away. "They were annoying," he mumbled. But his voice cracked.

Caelan tilted her head gently. "You didn't shower yet… huh."

He sniffled, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his sleeve, small shoulders curling inward. "You promised…" he whispered.

"I know," she murmured. "I promised to come and get you."

She reached forward and pulled him into a hug, one hand cradling the back of his head. "Something came up," she said softly into his hair. "I had to wash up before meeting you. But I'm here now."

Lucian clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder as his breathing hitched.

She waited. She always waited when he needed to catch up to his feelings.

Then, with a small smile, she leaned back and tapped his nose. "Come on," she said. "Let's wash you up, alright?"

His small fingers grabbed at her sleeve tightly.

"…You'll do it?"

"I'll do it." She smiled at him gently and ruffled his hair.

Lucian, despite his earlier sulkiness, felt a glow of contentment blooming in his chest.

He got to be washed by Caelan.

It was quiet. Safe. The way the warm water ran down his back, the soft cloth in Caelan's hand, the light hum she sometimes made when concentrating — it all made Lucian's head go fuzzy in a good way.

Caelan didn't rush. Didn't frown. Didn't flinch.

Father never touches me like Mama does, he thought, watching a soap bubble burst on his knee.

He's so gentle, and caring, and sweet...

There was never pressure in Caelan's touch. No confusion. No fear in his belly, no tightness in his throat. Just the soft glide of fingers scrubbing behind his ears, the low chuckle when he wiggled from the ticklish spots under his arms.

Lucian leaned into the touch.

It felt good to be small here.

To be treated like a person — not a thing.

When she wrapped him in the towel, tucking the edges under his chin and patting his damp hair, Lucian felt warmth rise behind his eyes. Not sadness. Not quite.

Just… a longing.

He blinked fast.

Caelan lifted him and carried him with ease — like he wasn't too much, too heavy, too anything.

Laid gently on her bed, he let her dry him. Her hands moved slowly, never lifting his arms too high, never tugging.

He didn't even notice when he sighed — really sighed — the kind that loosened something inside.

If I could stay like this… just like this forever…

If I could fall asleep right now, and wake up years later, and she'd still be the one dressing me…

Maybe then I'd believe I'm okay.

He looked up at her — the glow of the candlelight soft against her damp hair and linen shirt — and held onto that image.

It made his chest ache.

But in a warm way.

Like hope.

Caelan noticed the look in his eyes and ruffled his hair with a smirk.

"You've spent one day with Arin and already caught his puppy dog eyes."

"I should ask Galen to treat this illness and isolate Arin before it spreads," she added, and tickled his side for good measure.

Lucian giggled — a small, bright sound that hadn't come from him in a long time.

"I don't have puppy eyes…" he mumbled, burying his face shyly into her shoulder, though the flush in his cheeks said otherwise.

She laughed and began dressing him. He didn't resist — only clung to her gently, letting her tug the soft shirt over his head.

When she finished, she looked at him with a softer smile. "Wanna sleep here tonight, little chick?"

Lucian nodded — fast, eager, no hesitation at all.

"…Can I stay forever?" he asked, the words muffled but sincere.

He didn't say it to be cute.

Not really.

When he looked up at her again, it wasn't quite a plea — just something quiet. Hopeful. Like he was holding his breath.

Just say yes, he thought.

Please say yes, even if you don't mean it.

Caelan let out a soft sigh and hugged him close.

"For as long as I'm allowed," she said gently. "I'll let you stay with me."