"I'm sorry… once again. But don't you even have any reflexes? Can't you try to save yourself?" Sebastian said, exasperation lacing his voice. Then, more quietly, more straightforward, "And seriously… what do you need from me?"
As he asked, he pulled Dylan upright again. Dylan stared at him with dull, unfocused eyes, his expression oddly calm despite everything. Sebastian quickly began massaging his head again, his touch gentler this time.
"I mean… you… are you okay?" he asked, a hint of concern slipping through.
"No," Dylan replied plainly.
Sebastian frowned. "Why?"
"Because my stepbrother wants to kill me so he won't have to fuck me," Dylan mumbled, his words slurred beyond reason.
At this point, with how many times his head had met hard surfaces, one would think he'd be sobering up, but no. If anything, he seemed worse, like his brain had completely given up cooperating.
