mOnStEr - fIvE
511 Words
Albion stares at the unconscious form laying prone on their bed.
They don't know what possessed them to drag the injured man to their room. All they know is that this person saved them, stepped in the line of fire for them, without even knowing them. Even after having just accused Albion of stealing from him.
Albion scoffs at that, yet their chest constricts a little painfully. The sight in their bed is almost gut wrenching. They can't keep their gaze on the pale face for too long. Albion forces themself to look away before their heart begins to truly hurt.
It's been days and Grey still hasn't woken up yet. The healers said they did all they could. It's up to him now on whether he wants to live, whether he can pull through.
Albion hates it.
All they can do now is whisper under their breath almost desperately, "wake up. Please wake up, please."
They get no response, but it's no surprise.
Yet they stand from their perch to start pacing again.
Because this is pure agony, though it must be worse for Grey.
Albion bites their lip.
Their parents don't know yet. They don't know that their child harbors an unknown man from unknown lands in their room.
Good, they think, let's keep it that way.
No doubt their father would trying to kick Grey out, would probably kill him where he lays.
That is, if Grey doesn't die first.
And this causes Albion to wring their hands. They've always hated waiting, hated not knowing.
"Please."
One more whisper.
One more breath.
Just one mor-
A whimpered gasp grasps their attention.
Albion watches as Grey stirs, the man moaning in agony. The royal curses their luck.
It's back, the fever and the pain.
"Hush," Albion soothes, letting their hands run through Grey's sweat soaked hair.
They grab a rag from the bucket of iced water and presses it against Grey's flushed face
"Onay," Grey mumbles in his delirium, "onay, onay, ityay urtshay."
Albion frowns, what? What is he saying? The dialect sounds foreign and Grey's voice sounds like it's underwater.
But then he starts kicking and thrashing and Albion knows they have to restrain him.
Albion slips into the bed they haven't occupied in nearly three days, disregarding how good and familiar it feels. Only now realizing how exhausted they are from the lack of sleep. They shake their head and slowly wrap their arms around Grey, mindful of the gaping wound hidden by gauze and bandages on his chest.
They hold onto Grey and wait until the thrashing slows to a stop. Grey's breathing harsh, but even.
Albion breathes a sigh of relief.
It's over. For now it's over.
"Grey," he coos, voice a little hoarse, "Grey."
And Grey swears, through the fog of pain, he can hear the voice of angel.
Not realizing oh how wrong he is.
"Albion," he whispers breathily.
And Albion's breath hitches.
"Wake up, Grey. Wake up."
Please?
No response.
Yet they wait and wait and wait.
Until eventually, Albion falls asleep.
- Writer
