The house, which had only just settled into its usual quiet, fell into sudden disarray.
Sion and Eiran moved almost at once, urgency replacing whatever distance had existed before. Darius was carried inside with care, his weight heavier than it should have been, his body burning in contrast to the cold he had carried only moments ago.
They laid him down on the bed.
His breathing was uneven.
Sion did not waste time.
"This is exactly what I was talking about," Eiran muttered, half-frantic as he hovered nearby. "Standing out there like some tragic hero—"
"Stop talking and help me," Sion cut in, already reaching for Darius's coat.
Eiran blinked. "What are you—"
"Remove his outer clothes," Sion said sharply. "We need to bring his temperature down."
Realization struck. "Ah."
Sion was already working, movements efficient despite the tension in his expression. "We need to wipe him down. Get a basin of water. Clean cloths."
Eiran hesitated for a moment, glancing between them. "Do you want me to do it instead?"
Sion did not look up. "No. Just bring what I asked for."
There was no room for argument in his tone.
Eiran raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright."
He left quickly.
When he returned, Sion had already loosened Darius's clothing enough to ease his breathing. There was nothing improper in the way he moved, only careful precision, though the faint tightness in his jaw betrayed more than he would admit.
Eiran handed him the basin.
Sion dipped the cloth into the cool water and wrung it out before placing it gently against Darius's skin.
The contrast drew a faint reaction from the unconscious man.
Sion paused, watching for a moment, then continued.
Slowly. Carefully.
As though he feared being too rough.
Eiran leaned against the nearby post, arms crossed, observing in silence at first.
Then, unable to help himself, he spoke.
"You're taking very good care of him," he said, tone light but pointed. "For someone you just threw out."
Sion did not stop.
"I don't have a choice," he replied. "It's not like I can ignore a sick person."
He moved the cloth again, his touch steady.
"Though," he added, almost under his breath, "who would have thought he'd be this stubborn."
"…Who would have thought he's this stubborn," Sion added after a moment, quieter now. "Just like his master."
Eiran snorted. "You?"
Sion glanced at him, unimpressed. "No. The king."
Eiran laugh softly.
There was a pause before Sion spoke again, more quietly this time. "He should have known better."
Eiran studied him for a moment, then pushed himself off the post.
"Well," he said, stretching slightly, "I suppose someone has to prepare dinner, unless you plan to stay here all night."
Sion did not look away from Darius. "Then go."
"So bossy," Eiran muttered, though there was no real complaint in it as he turned and left.
Time passed.
The worst of the fever broke for a while.
Darius's breathing evened out, his body no longer burning as fiercely as before.
Sion remained seated beside the bed.
At some point, exhaustion claimed him.
His head tilted slightly, his eyes closing as sleep finally overtook him where he sat.
It was deep into the night when Darius stirred.
His consciousness returned slowly, as though he were rising from deep water. The first thing he felt was the damp cloth resting against his forehead.
Then the faint ache in his body.Then warmth.
Not the fever this time.
Something steadier.
He opened his eyes.
The room was dim, lit only by a dying candle.And there, beside him—
Sion.
Asleep in the chair.
His posture was awkward, his breathing soft, his expression unguarded in a way Darius had rarely seen.
For a moment, Darius simply watched him.
Then, slowly, he pushed himself up.
His body protested, but he ignored it.
Carefully, he reached out and lifted Sion.
Sion was lighter than he expected.
Or perhaps Darius was simply too used to bearing weight.
Either way, he held him as though it required no effort at all.
He did not notice the slight shift in Sion's breathing.
Nor the way his eyes had already opened.
He carried him toward the room.
"Shouldn't you be resting," Sion's voice came suddenly, low and calm, "instead of carrying me around?"
Darius froze.
Startled, he nearly lost his balance before quickly steadying himself.
"You're awake—"
Sion raised a brow.
Darius immediately set him down.
There was a brief, awkward silence.
Sion adjusted himself, then turned as if to walk away on his own—
But Darius reached out again.
This time more carefully.
"Sion."
There was hesitation in his voice.
"Please… listen to me again. Just this once."
Sion paused.
"If you still won't forgive me after that," Darius continued, "then I'll accept it."
The sincerity in his voice made it difficult to ignore.
Sion exhaled quietly.
"…Fine."
He turned and walked toward the living room instead.
Darius followed.
Sion took a seat, leaning back slightly, though his posture remained composed.
"Speak."
Darius did not answer immediately.
Instead,he stepped forward and dropped to one knee.
Sion's brows knit together in confusion. "What are you doing?"
Darius did not look away.
His hands tightened slightly at his sides.His head lowered briefly, as if gathering the courage he had long delayed.
"…Maybe you're right," he began, his voice quieter than before. "Maybe there is guilt."
Sion stilled.
"I let you down once," Darius continued. "And there hasn't been a single night I didn't regret it."
His voice wavered.
"But even so… if I had to choose again—"
He looked up.
"I would make the same choice."
Sion's expression hardened slightly. "What?"
"If it meant protecting you," Darius said. "If it meant you could live freely… I would still do it."
There was no hesitation in his voice now.
Only truth.
Tears had begun to gather in his eyes, though he did not hide them.
"But that doesn't mean my feelings are just guilt."
His voice lowered.
"I have loved you… for a long time."
Sion went still.
"Even when we were young," Darius continued, softer now, "you were already someone I couldn't ignore. And when we grew apart…"
A faint, bitter smile touched his lips.
"My eyes still followed you."
Sion's breath caught, just slightly.
"You always stood out," Darius said. "You always walked your own path, no matter who stood against you."
He reached forward then, taking Sion's hand carefully, as if afraid it would be pulled away.
He pressed it against his face.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "If I made you feel burdened… if I made you think you owe me something."
His voice broke.
"I didn't do it to bind you."
A pause.
"…I did it because I just want to see you felt at ease wherever you go."
His grip tightened, trembling now.
"And if… if you still think I've wronged you…"
He swallowed hard.
"…then I'll accept it."
Another tear fell.
"…I'm willing to let you use me as long as you want… just please…"
His voice dropped, almost breaking completely.
"…don't throw me away."
Silence filled the room.
Sion stared at him.
Then...
He exhaled."…Fine."
Darius looked up at once.
"I'll think about it," Sion said. "Whether to forgive you."
It was not a full answer.But it was not rejection either.
Relief washed over Darius's face...And then, just as suddenly, his body gave out.
He slumped forward.
"Darius—"
Sion caught him just in time, his expression shifting immediately.
"…Damn it."
His fever had returned.
Sion clicked his tongue and raised his voice. "Eiran. Come out. I know you've been listening."
There was a pause.
Then Eiran stepped out, completely unashamed.
"Well, can you blame me?" he said. "You weren't exactly quiet."
"Help me," Sion said, already supporting Darius's weight.
Eiran sighed but moved forward anyway.
"Honestly," he muttered, "you two are exhausting."
Together, they carried him back to the room.
And once again,the night refused to be peaceful.