Nival (boyxboyxboyxboy)

Fragile

A/N: Hi lovely people,
I hope you're doing well, despite what's going on in the world. Writing this chapter has been therapeutic - which is ironic, because it wasn't exactly relaxing. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did 💙

Chapter 7.

Matthew dreamt of running steps again. Of alarms flaring and panicked screams. He was in the stampede, but his sister, mother and brother were standing off the side, safely away from the mob.

People were shoving past him, running into him. The pressure was crushing, suffocating and he couldn't take a full breath. His family looked on with mild concern and puzzlement.

"What are you doing? Come here!" Lucy called out to him, stretching out her hand.

"I can't!" Matthew's own voice startled him awake. He took a rattling breath that ended in fit of coughing. His nose was completely blocked and he couldn't take a full breath.

Furred bodies shuffled around him and limbs were everywhere. A soft whine sounded in his ear.

Matthew was suddenly lifted and his head spun.

"Clio, help me." Mian's voice.

A low growl sounded.

"I can't carry him alone. He's ours." Mian said and then Matthew felt a sudden jerk that triggered another bout of coughing.

Snarls and barks rung in his ears and his awareness faded. In the next moment he was in someone's arms, jolting up and down with icy air on his cheeks.

He didn't remember how he got in front of the roaring fire, wrapped in heavy furs. Sweat trickled down his face, but he was shivering.

"- all that matters. We protect our own!" A voice boomed distantly, punctuated by a vicious growl.

"I am protecting my own!" A younger voice echoed through the caverns.

"Drink." Fie's soft voice was much closer, pressing a bowl of warm broth to his lips. Matthew managed a few gulps, but then he had to turn his head and cough, flinching when it sent a sharp pain through his chest.

The voices grew distant and sleep pulled him under.

He didn't know what was dream or reality. He had dazed impressions of voices, hands touching him and his own laboured breaths.

At one point, his head was covered and he was trying to breathe through sweltering steam. Wetness dripped from his nose and into his mouth, salty and disgusting. It was a relief when the cover lifted and he got to blow his nose and hack up thick globs of slime.

He was often shaken awake and forced to drink or eat, but he just wanted to sleep.

He didn't know how much time had passed, when he woke to wetness running over his legs and chest. His eyes felt glued to his cheeks, but he managed to force them open.

The coal black eyes gazing down at him made his heart stop for a moment. But then he recognised Fie's softly rounded features.

He relaxed as a rough cloth passed over his groin. Maybe he should have felt embarrassed, but he was too spent to care.

"Hungry?" Fie whispered and Matthew shook his head, feeling lightheaded afterwards. Belatedly he remembered Fie probably didn't know the gesture.

He wet his dry lips and opened them to speak, but a hand was already slipping behind his nape, lifting his head, and a bowl pressed against his mouth. He forced himself to drink. The broth was hot and full of salt, coating his lips in an oily film.