--: Keigan's POV: --
I woke up to a room that felt too quiet.
The sun was just starting to bleed through the curtains, casting long, pale shadows across the floor. I instinctively reached out to the other side of the bed, expecting to feel the restless warmth of my younger brother, but my hand hit cold, empty sheets.
"Keiran?" I muttered, sitting up abruptly.
My heart did a nervous skip. After fifteen days of living in a waking nightmare, an empty bed was enough to make my blood run cold. I didn't even grab my slippers; I just threw back the duvet and bolted for the door. I knew exactly where he'd go. There was only one person in this entire mansion who could pull Keiran out of his bed in the middle of the night.
I walked down the hallway, my footsteps silent on the carpet, until I reached the guest wing. The door was slightly ajar.
I pushed it open and stopped.
The sight hit me like a physical blow. The room was bathed in the soft, grey light of dawn. There, on the oversized bed, was the impossible truth. Kuya Keifer was lying on his back, staring at the ceiling with eyes that looked like they hadn't closed once. On top of him, Ate Jay-Jay was draped like a fallen soldier, her face buried in his neck. And curled into his side, holding onto his arm like a lifeline, was Keiran.
The three of them were a single, tangled shadow under the heavy blanket.
--: Keifer's POV: --
I saw the door move. I saw Keigan standing there, his silhouette framed by the hallway light. He looked exhausted—his shoulders were slumped, and the dark circles under his eyes told the story of everything he'd had to carry while I was "gone."
I didn't move my head. I couldn't. But I shifted my gaze to meet his.
"He wouldn't stay in his room," I whispered, my voice sounding like it was coming from the bottom of a well.
Keigan stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the bed, taking in the way Jay-Jay and Keiran were practically glued to me. He let out a long, shaky breath, his hands trembling at his sides.
"Keigan," I said, my voice gaining a bit of its old authority. "Help me. I need to get up before they wake up and realize I'm human. My body is locking up."
--: Author's POV: --
Keigan moved instantly. He walked to the side of the bed, his movements careful and practiced.
"I've got him," Keigan whispered, leaning over to gently untangle Keiran's fingers from Keifer's forearm.
With agonizing slowness, Keigan slid his arms under Keiran, lifting the sleeping boy just enough for Keifer to slide his numb arm out. Keifer winced as the blood rushed back into his limb, a thousand stinging needles dancing under his skin.
Next was the hard part. Jay-Jay was dead weight on Keifer's chest, her fingers still knotted into his black t-shirt. Keigan placed his hands on her shoulders, supporting her weight as Keifer slowly, millimetre by millimetre, shifted out from under her.
They worked in a silent, synchronized dance of brothers. Keigan eased Jay-Jay back onto the pillows, quickly tucking the duvet around her to preserve the heat so she wouldn't realize the anchor was gone.
--: Keifer's POV: --
I finally sat up. Every joint in my body popped, and the burns on my back pulled painfully against my skin. I sat on the edge of the bed for a second, my head in my hands, just trying to remember how to breathe without a weight on my chest.
I looked up at Keigan. He was standing there, watching me with an expression that was half-relief and half-unspoken resentment.
"Go freshen up, Kuya," Keigan muttered, his voice thick. "I'll stay here for a minute to make sure they don't wake up in a panic."
"Thanks, Keigan," I said, reaching out to squeeze his wrist. "For everything. For being the one who stayed."
Keigan didn't say anything. He just gave a small, stiff nod and stepped back, his eyes fixed on Jay-Jay. I stood up on shaky legs and headed toward the bathroom. I needed to wash the scent of the road and the hospital off my skin before she woke up and saw the mess I really was.
--: Author's POV: --
Keigan watched him go. He stayed until the sound of the shower started, then he looked at Keiran and Jay-Jay one last time. Seeing them finally still, finally resting without the look of agony on their faces, was enough.
He turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He had done his job. The King was back, and the burden was no longer his to carry alone.
--: Keifer's POV: --
I stepped out of the bathroom ten minutes later, the steam still clinging to my skin. I had changed into a fresh shirt, but the dampness of my hair made me feel cold.
The room was still. Keigan was gone.
I walked over to the bed and saw Keiran moving. He was facing Jay-Jay, his eyes fluttering open. I saw the split second where he realized the space beside him was empty. His chest hitched, and he scrambled to sit up, his eyes wide and wild with a scream that was trapped in his throat.
"Keiran," I said softly, stepping toward the bed.
He spun around, his face pale. The moment his eyes landed on me, he didn't hesitate. He lunged across the mattress and wrapped his arms around my waist, sobbing into my shirt.
"I thought it was a dream!" he wailed. "I thought I woke up and you were dead again!"
I pulled him close, my hand resting on the back of his head. "Don't worry, Keiran. Don't cry. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise I won't leave you."
I held him until his sobs turned into hiccups, and his grip finally loosened. "Go wash up," I told him, giving him a gentle push. "The guys are downstairs. Go be with them. I'm staying here. I'll come after sometime."
He nodded, wiping his face, and practically ran out of the room, desperate to tell the others that the ghost was still there.
The door clicked shut. I was alone with her.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked at Jay-Jay. Her face was finally calm, the sharp lines of tension gone. I reached out and took her hand. It was cold. I held it between both of mine, rubbing it to bring the warmth back.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice breaking.
I leaned down, pressing my forehead against the back of her hand. The guilt was a physical weight, crushing the air out of my lungs.
"It was my fault. All of it. I should have never called you a burden. You're my life, Jay. You're my everything. I don't know why I said that... I really am the King of the Assholes, aren't I?"
I started to cry then—quiet, bitter sobs that I had been holding back for fifteen days. I pressed my lips against her knuckles, my tears hot against her skin. "I'm so sorry for making you like this. I'm so so sorry baby."
--: Jay-Jay's POV: --
Something warm was on my hand.
I forced my eyes open, the light of the room making my head throb. I felt heavy, my mind floating in a fog of medicine, but the sound of someone crying pulled me back to the surface.
I looked down and saw him. Keifer was bowed over my hand, his shoulders shaking, his voice a broken string of apologies.
"Keifer?" I whispered.
He froze. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes red and swimming in tears. He looked so vulnerable, so human, that it hurt to look at him.
"Why are you crying?" I asked, my voice weak.