Awake
1289 Words
His eyelids fluttered again, more deliberately this time. It wasn’t just a reflex.
“Come on,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Wake up. Please, wake up.”
I leaned closer, gripping his hand tighter, willing my strength into him, as if sheer determination could bring him back from whatever edge he was on.
His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, but now there was an undertone—a steadier rhythm fighting to break through the fragility. The bond between us hummed, faint but undeniable, like a thread pulling us together.
Then, with a low, raspy gasp, his eyes flickered once more before they opened up and the most greenest eyes I've ever laid my eyes on stared right at me before his gaze swept over the room.
His eyes flew back to me and I froze, unsure whether to move closer or retreat.
His eyes held a storm of emotions—fear, confusion, fatigue, anger—but above all, there was emptiness.
A hollowness that went beyond physical pain, something deeper, more harrowing. His grip on my hand slackened, and he turned his face away from me, staring blankly at the ceiling.
“Doug?” he whispered, his voice so soft I almost didn’t catch it.
His question confused me, was it even a question.
Where…” His voice cracked, rough from disuse. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Where am I?”
"Uuuh.... you're in the royals territory. " I answered him unsure of what exactly to say.
His lips twitched more like a bitter acknowledgment of something I didn’t yet understand.
“I didn’t ask for it,” he said after a moment, his tone sharper now. “I didn’t want it.”
"Didn't want what?" I questioned a bit about what he was blabbering about.
"You should get some rest if you want to recover." I encouraged moving to tuck him in.
He didn't say anything anymore and I took that as my cue. I tucked him in then moved to leave the room.
I was barely outside when the smell of blood hit my boss and I turned right back to his room. did I miss a wound?
"What are you doing?" I scolded as I matched to his bed finding him ripping the IV fluids out.
"Get them off." He suddenly screamed.
"Let me go. I just want to die."
My chest tightened, his words striking a chord I hadn’t expected. “You wanted to die?” I asked quietly a hurt I didn't expect digging deep into my heart.
“Maybe that would’ve been better,” he muttered, his green eyes darkening as he stared into the void above us.
The weight of his pain hit me like a tidal wave through the bond, thick and suffocating. He truly believed it—believed that death would’ve been a mercy. “Don’t say that,” I said, my voice trembling. “You don’t mean it.”
He let out a hollow laugh, the sound bitter and filled with anguish. “You don’t know what I mean,” he snapped, his eyes blazing as they turned back to me. “You don’t know anything about me.”
I stiffened at his tone but didn’t pull away. “Then tell me,” I said softly. “Help me understand.”
For a long moment, he didn’t respond, his gaze searching for mine as though looking for something—what, I didn’t know. Finally, he closed his eyes, a shuddering breath escaping his lips.
"Who are you?" He asked me. For a moment words left me and I didn't know what to say.
"I'm.... uuuuh.... I found you in the forest while doing my runs." I supplied figuring that was the best introduction.
“Why? you should have left me. I can’t feel him,” he continued, his voice trembling. “He’s gone. My wolf is gone. And without him, I’m nothing. Just a hollow shell.”
The rawness in his words left me speechless. I wanted to reach for him, to offer comfort, but I didn’t know how. How could I tell him he was wrong when I didn’t know if he was right?
“You’re wrong,” I said finally, my voice barely audible. “You’re not nothing. And he’s not gone. I would feel it if he were.” I wasn’t sure if that was entirely true, considering Liya's comment but it felt right.
He let out another bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like to lose half of yourself.”
I flinched at his words, the truth in them cutting deep. “You’re right,” I admitted.
His green eyes met mine, and for a moment, there was something else there—something softer, more vulnerable. Then he looked away again, his expression hardening.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us, heavy but not unbearable.
I could feel his gaze on me again, heavy and probing, but I refused to meet it. My thoughts were a tangled mess—frustration, worry, and a pull toward him I didn’t want to name. Not now. Maybe not ever.
The mate bond hummed between us, but it didn’t bring comfort. It only added to the confusion swirling inside me.
My wolf, Liya, was silent, her presence barely a whisper in the back of my mind. I couldn’t even feel Doug, his wolf. Maybe that was why I was so unsure—why the bond felt fractured and incomplete.
He scoffed, a bitter sound that made my chest tighten. “I don’t need you to play the sitter,” he said. “I didn’t ask for this.”
I stiffened. “I’m not playing anything. I’m trying to help.”
His laugh was harsh, devoid of humor. “Help?” He turned his head slightly, green eyes locking onto mine. “You don’t know me.”
The weight of his words hung between us, and for a moment, I had no response. He was right. I didn’t know him—not really. And he wasn’t offering any clues.
His jaw tightened, and I could see the muscles working beneath his skin.
I sighed, my frustration bubbling over. “Look,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. “I get it. You don’t trust me. You don’t owe me anything."
His eyes flicked back to mine, a flicker of something—anger, maybe, or disbelief—passing through them. “Why?” he asked, his voice low but intense. “Why do you care?”
The question stopped me cold. Why did I care? I didn’t want this. I didn’t want a mate, didn’t want to feel tied to someone when I could barely hold myself together. But the bond… it was impossible to ignore.
“I don’t know,” I admitted finally, the words bitter on my tongue. “Maybe I shouldn’t. But I do.”
His gaze lingered on me, searching for something I couldn’t name. Then he looked away again, his expression unreadable. “You’re wasting your time,” he muttered.
“Maybe,” I said, echoing my earlier words. “But I’m still here.”
Neither of us spoke after that. The air between us was heavy, charged with everything unsaid. His pain, my confusion, the fragile bond that tethered us together—it was all too much, and yet not enough.
For now, I let the silence settle, knowing there were battles ahead we weren’t ready to fight. But even as I turned to leave, I couldn’t shake the feeling that, like it or not, our fates were intertwined.
,,,,
,,,,
,,,,
- Writer
