I was trembling, though not from exhaustion, lack ofsleep, or even the crushing stress. It was something deeper, rawer, and had everything to do with the guy in my arms.
When they tried to pull him away, I clung to him tighter, letting go only because he needed help. My fingers grazed his cold ones, and I felt the same wild urge I’d had last night in the cave—to warm him, to keep him alive.
With my body wrapped around his and his frame cocooned in my embrace.
But he was gone in an instant, and I refuse to let that be the last time I see him.
For the first time, I feel like a real teenager—defying my parents’ orders to stay home and impulsively running off to Chicago. I’ve never even been to Chicago, and it took a fake ID just to get on the plane.
The escape from home was messy. Lidya said she’ll cover for me and that she has my back, but despite her enthusiasm, there’s only so much she can do once my parents realize I’m gone.
I’ll think about the consequences later. The most important thing is that I made it.
My fingers are clammy around the bullet that I’ve been holding in my fist during the whole trip. It’s probably weird that I kept the bullet I removed from inside Yulian, but it gave me peace of mind, in a sense. It reminded me that I saved him, that he’s alive.
The bullet drags me back to the cave every time I touch it. The cold, the fear, the edge of death—but also him. Us. We had each other through it all.
It reminds me he took a bullet for me, and the least I can do is make sure he’s recovering well.
That’s what I told myself, the excuse I clung to when I gave in to the pull and came to Chicago.
As expected, hospital security is ironclad. No surprise given Yulian’s father’s status. I slip into the staff changing room, and pull on a doctor’s coat, mask, and glasses to disguise myself. My build and height help, but appearance isn’t everything. It’s the walk and the way I carry myself, and I keep my head high as I stride toward Yulian’s room.
Some guards stationed in front of the door watch me, but I continue putting on the facade as I slip into the room and close the door behind me.
I release a sigh, but it catches in the back of my throat when my eyes zero in on Yulian.
The hospital room is dim, wrapped in a sterile hush broken only by the steady pulse of the heart monitor as shadows from the blinds cut across the floor. I don’t know what I expected—maybe Yulian awake, cracking jokes, swathed in bandages. Blood, wires, life. Instead, he’s just…still.
It’s unlike him.
That’s why I was screaming at him to wake up when morning came and he was motionless, breathing with effort. My heart cracked in my chest when he wouldn’t open his eyes. That’s why I carried him on my shoulder and took the dangerous trip down. I contemplated leaving him in the cave as I went to scout around, but his pulse was weak, and I just had to take him with me.
Risky, yes, and we could’ve both died if the attackers were still lurking around, but I had no other choice.
And to see him like this now sends a thump in my chest.
The charts at the foot of the bed show records from two days prior. He hasn’t woken up yet, but the notes sayhis vitals are stable and he should gain consciousness any time now.
I remove the mask as I approach him, my heartbeat thumping louder with every step I take.
Yulian lies motionless, swallowed by white sheets, his skin nearly blending into them—more pale than I’ve ever seen him.
The color’s gone from his lips, and a fresh bruise blooms across one cheek, half hidden by the chaos of dark hair spilled over the pillow. His lashes are long, feathery, casting soft shadows onto sharp cheekbones. Even now, he looks…pretty. Not like a girl. Not delicate. Just…lethallystriking in a strange way that knots something deep in my stomach.
My knees bend of their own accord, landing me at his side. The bed dips beneath my weight, and every inch of me sparks to life.
I sit there for a moment, trying to understand why my throat feels tight. This should feel like visiting a classmate or a friend, but it’s more…intense.
Confusing.
More akin to a penance.
His thick, long fingers lie limp on the bed.
I stare at them.
For one second, ten, twenty…
