Isaac jolted awake. A sharp jolt ran through his body, and his wounds immediately answered with a stabbing, burning pain. His muscles seized reflexively before he sank back into the pillows, drained of strength. Cold sweat clung to his skin, his breathing came in bursts—too fast, too shallow.
With trembling fingers, he reached for the scar on his neck.
It had healed many years ago—and yet it felt as if the blade were slicing through his flesh again in this very moment. The echo of what had happened back then would not let him go. It had never truly disappeared. It merely lurked, waiting for a moment of weakness.
And he was weak.
Isaac swallowed hard. He could still feel the blade cutting into his throat, the betrayal burrowing deep into his heart. He swallowed again, trying to calm himself.
Easier said than done.
Levi isn't here, he can't hurt you. Get a grip!
Why did he keep dreaming of that damn bastard? Was it because he had nothing left to distract himself? Because he was bound to the bed, unable to move, reduced to his pain and his thoughts? Or was it simply the fact that his body knew how vulnerable he was right now—and his mind forced him to face it mercilessly?
His chest tightened painfully. Every breath felt as though he were fighting against invisible restraints.
Panic seized his heart with an icy grip.
Exactly what he needed least right now.
"Shit…"
He needed Noctis.
Isaac groaned softly as he forced himself upright. Every inch of movement cost him strength. He looked around the unfamiliar room he currently called his own—but Noctis was nowhere to be seen.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
There was no way he could stay in bed. If he stayed lying down, this damn panic attack would never stop. He had to move. He had to get up and at least open the window. A bit of fresh air would surely help him clear his head and push the memory away.
Isaac took a deep breath. Slowly, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Pain immediately shot through his side, and he instinctively pressed a hand against the gunshot wound, as if he could contain it that way.
He hated being weak.
Back then, when he had woken up in the hospital after all those terrible years in the orphanage and his near-death experience, he had sworn never to show weakness again. And here he was—shot by the cop he had let get too close, unable to take care of himself.
Sweat gathered on his forehead again, slowly running down his temple. Carefully, he straightened up a little more, forcing his back into an upright position, even as every muscle protested.
He had to endure.
For a moment, he closed his eyes and waited for the dizziness to subside. The IV lines pulled uncomfortably, tugging at his skin as if trying to force him back into bed. One wrong movement, and the needles would come loose.
Still.
He had to get up. He couldn't stay in this bed any longer.
How many days had he been here by now?
Time had blurred. Days? Hours? It felt like both and neither. His last clear moment with Noctis lay somewhere behind a dense veil of pain and darkness.
Isaac opened his eyes again and stared at the floor in front of him.
Then he took a deep breath.
One step.
Just a single step.
That was all he demanded of himself for now.
Isaac struggled to calm himself. He glanced at the bedside table, hoping for something to drink. Maybe there was even a painkiller there.
But when his eyes fell on what lay there, he froze.
For a moment, everything stopped.
Slowly, almost mechanically, he reached out his hand. His fingers trembled so much that he missed the object on the first try. Only on the second attempt did he manage to grasp it and lift it up.
His stomach twisted painfully, as if something cold had taken root inside it. For a fraction of a second, he felt himself losing his grip—not just physically, but completely.
"…No," he breathed, barely audible.
In his hands, he held nothing other than Eclis Sun—the piece of jewelry he had stolen during his last heist and worn around his neck.
"Why is it still here…?" he muttered hoarsely.
The question went unanswered—and with every passing second, it grew more threatening.
Why wasn't it with the boss?
Finding the ring didn't make things better—it made them worse. Why hadn't Noctis delivered it yet?
…how would the boss react?
The thought alone made Isaac feel even sicker. Was his injury enough reason for the boss to forgive his failure? Nervously, Isaac wiped his sweat-soaked forehead. He pressed his lips together. This time, he wouldn't get away with just a slap.
He closed his hand around the ring as something else struck him.
The magical connection to Noah was gone.
A cold stab shot through him.
Isaac cursed under his breath. He must have lost it while he was unconscious. He tried to reestablish the connection, but the panic was too deeply rooted in his bones. He couldn't even form a clear thought.
He had to get to the boss.
No matter the cost. He would never regain his standing if he didn't go to him soon and finish the job.
Isaac took a deep breath. He couldn't waste any time.
He pressed one hand against his gunshot wound and forced himself to his feet. The world tilted instantly, but he made himself stay upright. Pain exploded in his side, spreading through his entire body.
The IV needle tore out of his arm.
He barely noticed.
He was too busy trying not to collapse again.
He only vaguely registered the door opening and someone swearing. Isaac lifted his head just enough to recognize Noctis, who was rushing straight toward him.
"Isaac! What the hell are you doing?!" His voice was tense, sharp with stress. "Why are you standing?!"
Isaac reacted instinctively.
He grabbed for Noctis, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping him upright.
"Noc—!" His voice broke. "The ring…! Why is the ring still here?!"
Noctis froze for a fraction of a second.
"…Shit."
He guided Isaac back down onto the edge of the bed. But Isaac didn't let go.
His breathing was frantic.
"I have to go to him, Noctis!" Isaac burst out, his voice rough and unsteady. "How long was I out this time? Damn it, he's going to lose it—!"
"Isaac…" Noctis began.
But Isaac didn't let him finish. The words tumbled over each other, driven by a fear that constricted his throat and smothered any trace of logic.
"And Noah!" he went on, hurried, almost breathless. "I've lost the connection to the talisman! Completely—it's just gone! I have to see him, I need to know if he's—what if something happened to him? What if he—"
Noctis grabbed him firmly by the shoulders.
"Isaac!"
The sharpness in his voice hit like a blow. Isaac flinched, falling abruptly silent. For a moment, only his own ragged breathing filled the space between them.
Then Noctis loosened his grip slightly. His voice softened again, his gaze gentler.
"Calm down."
Isaac forced himself to exhale. Slowly. Trembling. His eyes fell shut for a moment, and without thinking much about it, he leaned against Noctis's chest, seeking steadiness in the familiar closeness.
It was too much to put into words—and too much to simply lie there and do nothing. He had to get back on his feet now and deal with everything. If he didn't, he would almost certainly regret it.
"I have to go to the boss…," he said quietly at last. "…how long have I been here? Tell me."
Noctis returned his embrace.
"It's been six days since you were shot," he replied hesitantly.
Isaac froze.
He abruptly pushed himself away from Noctis. "Six days…!" he breathed, shocked. He ran a hand nervously over his face while grabbing Noctis's arm with the other. "Take me to him!"
Noctis shook his head. "No."
"Noc!" Isaac pleaded, his voice almost breaking, but the look Noctis gave him made it clear he wouldn't take him to the boss. "Please—"
Isaac's hand curled into a fist and struck weakly against Noctis's chest.
"You have to take me to him, or—"
The words cut off.
Noctis gently brushed his hand over Isaac's cheek. Isaac looked up, his expression soft yet unreadable.
"I'm not taking you to him, Isaac," Noctis said in a final tone.
Isaac's gaze hardened. "Why?!" he snapped, a trace of anger mixing into his fear. "If it's because of my injury, then—"
"Noah is dead," Noctis interrupted.
Isaac blinked. "…what?" He must have misheard. "Stop messing with me," he said flatly.
Noctis's expression didn't change.
"That wasn't a joke," Noctis said seriously. "Noah is dead. And if you go to the boss, he'll kill you."
Isaac stared at him.
His mouth remained slightly open, as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. The words hung heavily between them.
His thoughts spiraled. How had everything fallen apart this badly? Isaac would have died if Noctis hadn't been there to save him. He had the ring—but he was so far behind schedule that the boss would have been anything but pleased, likely beating him senseless.
All of that was already reality—things that couldn't be changed or even remotely excused.
It had simply happened.
But even more unbelievable was that Noah was dead.
Isaac pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white.
"How did he die?" he finally asked, the tension in his voice unmistakable.
His voice trembled slightly. Noctis grimaced.
"Gunshot to the head. He was apparently dead instantly," he replied calmly.
Isaac looked at him, unable to say a word.
If Noah was dead, then his own life was over too. If the boss ever caught him, he would be as good as dead.
"He's going to kill me…" Isaac muttered at last, more to himself than to Noctis.
A broken, almost hysterical laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
"So that's it, I guess… My life… everything I built… just gone. Fuck."
His head rang. Pain, dizziness, and panic blended into a dull, shapeless pressure. It felt as though something heavy was pressing down on his chest, slowly dragging him under.
The boss. His apartment with the large studio. His relatively quiet life at the café.
The boss… would he really kill him? After all, it wasn't his fault he had been shot, and the ring was still intact. Rationally speaking, he had completed his assignment—he would just be delivering it a bit late.
But the boss had loved Noah, his son, more than anything.
Yet as quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it again.
Why would the boss allow that? Isaac had disappointed him so many times lately. He was worthless. After all, he had neither managed to deliver the ring nor protect Noah. He had failed completely.
He wouldn't get out of this situation so easily, and he would never be able to repay the boss for saving his life. Everything he had stood for and lived for was gone.
The feeling settled heavily over him, slowly but surely pulling him toward an abyss.
Suddenly, Noctis leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
"Your life isn't over," he said quietly. "It's just the beginning of a new chapter for you."
A single tear broke free and silently ran down Isaac's cheek.
He barely noticed it.
His gaze was fixed on nothing, but inside his mind, a storm raged. Damn it, why had Noah died on the same night everything had gone wrong? He had promised to look after himself and to disappear if things got dangerous. Why had he died just like that? He had been skilled enough to evade the cops again and again—Isaac had seen all his sketches. There had been so many things that could have made his escape easier. Why hadn't he used them?
He sobbed.
That cheerful little idiot… Isaac had only just begun to let him get a little closer…
"…What am I supposed to do now?" he asked quietly. The question was barely more than a whisper, fragile and hollow.
For the first time in a long while, he had no answer.
He couldn't go back to his apartment. Not to his account. Not to the reserves he had hidden there. His documents, his clothes, his paintings—he would have to leave everything behind. Every canvas, every sketch, every piece he had poured nights, thoughts, and fragments of himself into.
He wouldn't even be able to work at Café Noir anymore.
He would have to disappear.
His gaze met Noctis's. There was no way he could drag him into his escape. This was Isaac's problem alone.
More tears slipped free, running down his cheeks.
He would have to leave him behind too.
That thought hit him harder than anything else.
He couldn't force that on Noctis. Under no circumstances could he burden him with all of this.
Why was he crying so much all of a sudden? Hadn't he always wanted a completely withdrawn life? No contact with others? Didn't he have the perfect chance now?
So why did the thought of leaving Noctis hurt so much? Why did it feel as though someone were tearing his heart out of his chest?
Because I love him more than anyone else, and I don't want him to leave my side…
Isaac ignored the dizziness, the panic, and the pain and wrapped his arms around Noctis, who gently pulled him close. He didn't want to leave him.
Noctis held him immediately, as if he had been waiting for nothing else. His hand moved calmly over Isaac's head, running through his hair—slowly, steadily, in a motion meant to soothe without words.
Isaac buried his face against his shoulder.
He didn't want to go.
He didn't want to leave him.
"Isn't the answer to that question simple?" he asked quietly, his voice vibrating calmly against Isaac's ear. "You rest until you get better."
"I can hardly burden you that long…" Isaac scoffed. But he didn't get any further.
Suddenly, Noctis pulled him a little closer.
"How do you even get the idiotic idea that you're a burden to me?!" he snapped, irritated.
Isaac tried to push himself away, but Noctis didn't let go.
"Because I can't possibly drag you into this!" Isaac cried, tears streaming down his face. "I have to fix this and then disappear!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Noctis's voice turned dangerously calm. "You want to disappear on your own?"
Isaac swallowed.
"I failed—not you!" he managed, his voice breaking from exhaustion and tension. "How could I ever ask you to go into hiding with me?!"
Noctis pushed him back just enough so they could look at each other. His hands remained on Isaac's arms, firm, as if he would stop him from slipping away if necessary.
There was something in his expression that sent a sharp pain through Isaac's chest.
"You're definitely not disappearing on your own," Noctis said quietly, but with a finality that allowed no argument. "And you don't have to disappear at all. This is a safe place."
His hand rose and brushed slowly over Isaac's cheek, wiping away one of the many tears that were no longer just a single one.
"You're not getting away from me that easily, Isaac," he continued, his voice now calmer, almost gentle. "You belong with me. And that won't change, no matter how much you try to convince yourself otherwise."
Isaac let out a quiet snort, an exhausted, broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. With the last of his strength, he weakly hit Noctis's shoulder.
"You idiot…" he muttered. "There's no way you could want a life like this."
Noctis didn't respond immediately.
Instead, he leaned in and kissed him.
Isaac froze for a brief moment before closing his eyes.
When Noctis pulled back again, he stayed close.
"I want everything that has to do with you," he said quietly. "I'm not particularly rational when it comes to that."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Besides, we already live in the shadows. Fake identities, false names, half-truths. The life I present to the outside world is nothing more than a façade."
His gaze grew more thoughtful for a moment.
"And the city is big enough to disappear in without ever really leaving."
Then that slight, crooked smile returned.
"Not to mention, I like the idea of you having no one around but me for a while."
A soft, tearful laugh escaped Isaac.
"You really are an idiot…" he whispered.
"Because I love you, darling."
The chaos inside him was still raging, and he had no idea how to deal with any of it. And yet, Noctis stood before him like a rock in the surf—unyielding, unwilling to step away, staying at his side.
He didn't deserve someone like Noctis, and yet he no longer wanted to push him away.
Isaac was tired. And if Noctis was greedy, then he wanted to be too. Because just as Isaac belonged to him, Noctis belonged to Isaac. He didn't know how he would handle everything that had happened, nor what would come next for him.
But he would have to find out.
After his wounds had healed.
He trusted Noctis. And if he said this was a safe place, then it was.
So he leaned forward and kissed Noctis on the lips in return.
His body was still trembling. The pain was becoming unbearable, and he wanted nothing more than to lie back down. But this mattered more than giving in to his needs. As he kissed Noctis, the panic slowly faded, replaced by a dull fear he could ignore—for now.
It wouldn't disappear entirely. Not yet.
He pulled back from the kiss. Even that alone seemed to drain the last of his strength. He was completely out of breath.
"I love you too, Noctis," Isaac said softly, leaning against him. "Forgive me for causing so many problems."
Noctis kissed the top of his head.
"You're not causing me any problems. Never. There's nothing we can't handle as long as we're alive," he murmured. "Do you understand me?"
Isaac nodded weakly.
Noctis studied him for a moment, then his expression grew more serious.
"You should lie back down," he said. "You've been sitting up far too long. And you're completely drenched in sweat."
Isaac closed his eyes briefly.
This time, he didn't argue.
"Okay…," he murmured. "Can you give me something for the pain?"
"Of course."
Carefully, Noctis helped him back into bed. Every movement was deliberate, slow, aimed at causing him as little additional pain as possible. His gaze fell on the IV puncture sites that had come loose.
"Idiot," he muttered softly, this time without any sharpness.
He tended to the spots with practiced ease before briefly getting up to fetch a painkiller.
Isaac sank deeper into the pillows. His body felt heavy, burned out. He swallowed the tablet with effort, his eyes already wanting to close again.
Suddenly, he longed for some rest—something he would now have plenty of.
Noctis sat down beside him again and gently stroked his hand. Isaac's breathing grew calmer. Slower. But before he could fully close his eyes, the door opened.
"Oh? What happened here?" the person asked.
Isaac blinked sluggishly and turned his head slightly.
Through blurred vision, he recognized the tall, pale man with the black man-bun and those unnaturally dark eyes. Even without his glasses, Isaac recognized the scar on his face. It was Vincent—that strange "friend" Noctis had brought into the café.
His expression soured immediately.
"Why the hell is he here…?" he muttered weakly.
Beside him, Noctis cursed quietly.