Aeris
I woke to the sound of breathing that wasn't mine.
For a second, I forgot where I was. Forgot the forest, the blood, the panic. I was floating in warmth and haze, a weightless space between dream and pain.
Then it all came back.
The panic attack.
The boys.
The IV.
Them.
My body tensed instinctively, but I couldn't move fast. My limbs were heavy, like I was underwater. I turned my head slightly, slow and cautious.
Silas.
Sitting in the armchair near the bed, one leg crossed over the other, elbow propped lazily on the armrest—but he wasn't relaxed. His posture was a lie.
His eyes were locked on me the moment I moved.
"You're awake," he said quietly, like he wasn't sure it was real.
I didn't answer.
He sat forward, the shadows under his eyes deeper than before. He looked exhausted. Drained. Almost… older.
"How do you feel?"
I swallowed. My throat was dry. Every word felt like a weight I didn't want to lift. "Like I got hit by a truck."
"Yeah, well." He gave a sad sort of smirk. "You look better than yesterday, so that's progress."
I stared at him.
He didn't flinch.
I didn't know what I expected. Snark? A joke? A casual insult? Something to bring us back to the only dynamic I understood. But it never came.
Instead, he stood slowly, walked over to the small table near the wall, and returned with a bowl and a spoon.
"Soup," he said. "Homemade. Kade made it."
I raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe he cooks?"
"Hey, man's got hidden talents. You'd be shocked."
A flicker of the old Silas. The easy grin. The cocky tone. But his eyes stayed serious.
He sat on the edge of the bed and held out the spoon.
I didn't move.
"What is this?" I asked. "What are you doing?"
"Feeding you. You're still too weak to lift a bowl. And unless you want to pass out again, you need something in your system."
I hesitated.
It wasn't that I didn't want to eat—I just didn't trust anything right now. Especially not from them.
He seemed to read my thoughts, because his voice dropped lower. "It's not poisoned, Aeris. I swear. If it makes you feel better, I'll take a bite first."
He did. No hesitation. Took a spoonful, swallowed it, then handed the spoon back to me.
I watched him for a second longer before finally leaning forward, letting him guide the spoon to my lips.
It tasted like salt and garlic and something warm I hadn't felt in a long time. Safety. Not in the place or the people—but in the quiet. In the stillness of being cared for, even if I didn't trust it yet.
He fed me slowly, not saying much.
Halfway through the bowl, I whispered, "Why are you doing this?"
He blinked. "Doing what?"
"Pretending to care."
His jaw clenched, just for a moment. "We're not pretending."
I gave him a look.
He didn't back down.
"I know what we were to you, Aeris. What we made ourselves into. But this? This isn't about guilt. Or making ourselves feel better. You almost died."
He looked down, shoulders tight.
"And if we hadn't found you, we'd have to live with that for the rest of our lives."
I didn't know what to say to that.
Didn't know what to feel.
So I let him feed me in silence.
And for once, I didn't feel like I had to be strong.