Chapter 5: Blurred Consciousness

The doorbell rang as if it were a death knell.

Lucian couldn't spare a single hand.

Sebastian was draped entirely over him, his head heavy in the crook of Lucian’s shoulder. His breathing was fast and shallow, sending hot, humid puffs against the side of Lucian’s neck.

His hands were still pinned by Lucian, unable to break free, yet his body continued to twist subconsciously, writhing and trying to scratch.

"Open the door!!! Code is 6392!!" Lucian roared toward the entrance.

When Chen unlocked the door and burst in, this was the scene that met him.

On the living room floor, Lucian sat cross-legged, cradling a man in his arms.

Sebastian’s face was buried in Lucian’s shoulder, his expression hidden. All that could be seen was the skin of his nape, flushed a deep red and marked with several bloody welts from his fingernails.

The lower half of his body was wrapped in a blanket, which had already developed dark, damp stains. A faint, indescribable scent hung in the air.

Chen froze in the foyer.

"What the hell are you standing there for!!!" Lucian yelled, his eyes bloodshot with panic. "Get over here and help!!!"

Chen finally snapped out of it and rushed over, squatting down. He reached out to touch Sebastian but didn't know where to place his hands, hovering them helplessly in the air.

"What... what’s wrong with him?"

"How the hell should I know!!!" Lucian’s voice cracked. "Didn't you say there were no side effects?!!"

"I really didn't know!!!" Chen was also frantic. "I’ve only used this once before. That guy just itched for eight hours and was fine..."

Lucian was speechless.

He looked down at the man in his arms.

Sebastian’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes trembling, his lips as white as paper.

The loungewear at his side had been hitched up slightly, revealing a patch of skin underneath. It was a terrifying shade of bruised purple—a deep, mottled hematoma spreading from his side to his lower back.

"I..." Lucian’s voice dropped. "Damn it. I had no idea his back was in this much pain."

Chen stared at the bruise and hissed through his teeth.

"Is that a sprain or something? Did you hit him?"

"I..." Lucian wanted to say he’d only kicked him once yesterday, but the words died in his throat. "Don't worry about that now. Just do something!"

Chen pulled out his phone, frantically scrolling through his contacts. "I know a doctor, Xavier. He’s nearby. I’ll get him to come over."

"Hurry the hell up!!!"

The call connected. Chen spoke a few incoherent sentences before hanging up and sprinting toward the bedroom.

"What are you doing?!"

"Getting a duvet!" Chen called back without looking. "We can't move his back too much. We need to lay him down first!"

Two minutes later, a thick down duvet was spread across the living room floor. Chen brought over several pillows, stacking them nearby.

"Alright, slowly lay him down. Support his waist. Yes, like that. Slow!"

As Lucian supported Sebastian’s waist, lowering him inch by inch onto the duvet, Sebastian let out a muffled groan. It was faint, but Lucian heard it with crystalline clarity.

Sebastian’s brow was knitted tight, his fingers gripping Lucian’s sleeve so hard his knuckles were white.

"It hurts..." His voice was so low it was almost inaudible, raspy and unlike his usual self.

Lucian knelt there, at a total loss. Sebastian was still trying to scratch; his hands had somehow slipped free again and were clawing at his own neck, leaving angry red tracks.

"Stop scratching!" Lucian grabbed his hands.

Sebastian’s eyes fluttered open into thin slits, looking at him.

His gaze was unfocused—the kind of blur that comes from a clouded consciousness—and filled with a trace of humiliation and distress.

Lucian’s heart felt as though it were being squeezed by a giant hand.

He glanced at the lower half of Sebastian’s body, which was soaked through.

He gritted his teeth and pulled back the blanket.

Lucian didn't look at Sebastian’s face. Keeping his head down, his fingers trembling, he stripped off the soaked pants and tossed them aside. Then he looked up and reached toward Chen. "A blanket. A dry one."

Chen handed over a thick, dry blanket.

Lucian shook it out and wrapped it snugly around Sebastian, tucking him in tightly. Then he sat back down, lifting Sebastian’s upper body so the man could lean against his chest.

"Don't scratch," he said in a low voice, half to Sebastian and half to himself. "I've got you. Just don't scratch."

Sebastian didn't answer.

His face was buried against Lucian’s chest, his fingers clutching Lucian’s clothes with a death grip. His body was still shivering, still instinctively trying to writhe, but Lucian held him firmly, refusing to let him break away.

The doorbell rang again.

Chen rushed to open it.

A young man entered, wearing a charcoal-grey trench coat. His expression was cold and clinical. He swept a gaze over the room, and his brow furrowed.

"Xavier!" Chen followed behind him with a guilty, fawning tone. "You’re here..."

Xavier ignored him.

He walked straight to Sebastian’s side, knelt down, and lifted a corner of the blanket to inspect the bruise.

"How was he injured?"

Lucian opened his mouth but couldn't find the words.

Xavier didn't wait for an answer. He pressed his fingers against the edge of the bruise. Sebastian’s body jolted violently, and he let out a sharp groan.

"A secondary sprain," Xavier said flatly, retracting his hand. "He had a pre-existing injury that hadn't healed, and it was aggravated by external force."

He pulled a rigid medical brace from his bag—the kind that was wide and reinforced with hard support bars.

"Hold him. Don't let him move."

Lucian immediately held Sebastian tighter.

Xavier moved quickly, wrapping the brace around Sebastian’s waist, tightening and securing it. He wasn't gentle; Sebastian trembled from the pain, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. His lips were bitten white, his eyes tightly shut, and his eyelashes were wet.

Lucian looked down at him.

Sebastian’s eyes were rimmed with red, his eyelids quivering as if he were on the verge of tears.

Lucian’s heart constricted again.

"Done." Xavier stood up, glancing at Sebastian’s face. "His waist is stabilized for now. Don't let him move around. Take him for an X-ray tomorrow."

Lucian looked up. "And the itching?"

Xavier looked at him.

The look made Lucian’s skin crawl.

"Endure it," Xavier said, his tone devoid of sympathy. "You’re the one who drugged him. You hold him and make sure he doesn't scratch."

Lucian was stunned.

Xavier had already turned to leave. At the door, he paused and gave Chen a single, cold look.

Chen shuddered and quickly followed him out.

The door closed.

Only Lucian and Sebastian were left in the living room.

After a moment of silence, Sebastian began to move again. The drug was still in his system, and the itch was surging from every part of his body. With his mind clouded, he only knew he was in misery and wanted to scratch. His hand broke free from the blanket, reaching for his neck.

Lucian caught his hand instantly.

"Don't scratch," he said.

Sebastian struggled feebly but couldn't get free. With his hands held by Lucian, his body continued to twist.

He rubbed against Lucian’s chest, his neck brushing against Lucian’s chin, his cheek pressing into Lucian’s chest.

Lucian froze.

Sebastian’s face rubbed across his neck; the skin was burning hot.

His breathing puffed against Lucian’s collarbone—fast, shallow, and carrying an air of suppressed panting. His hands were held tight, yet his body kept moving, squirming and rubbing against Lucian’s embrace.

Lucian’s body became as rigid as a stone.

He looked down at the man in his arms.

Sebastian’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes damp, his cheeks flushed with an unnatural heat.

He was biting his lip, his brow furrowed; he looked to be in absolute agony, utterly disheveled—a world away from the cold, distant Counselor Sebastian he usually was.

But he was still beautiful.

Lucian didn't know why that thought occurred to him at a time like this.

One hand was still clutching Sebastian’s hands, the other wrapped around his waist. Through the blanket and the brace, he could feel the man’s body shivering.

Sebastian rubbed against him again, burying his face in the crook of Lucian’s neck. His breath fanned across Lucian’s skin, itchy and hot.

Lucian’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

"S-stop moving," his voice was a bit hoarse. "I told you not to scratch, I didn't tell you to rub against me..."

Sebastian couldn't understand him.

He subconsciously leaned toward the heat source, trying to find a comfortable position to soothe the pervasive itch.

He rubbed against him once more.

Lucian’s breathing hitched.

His hands were in the same position as before, one holding Sebastian’s hands and the other around his waist, but he felt as though he were about to catch fire.

Sebastian’s hair brushed against his chin, soft and smelling of shampoo. His face was buried in Lucian’s neck, and every breath fanned Lucian’s skin. His body, pressed against Lucian through the blanket, was scorching hot.

Lucian didn't dare move.

He could only stay frozen, holding Sebastian tightly, telling himself over and over:

He’s sick. His mind is clouded. He doesn't know what he's doing right now.

But his own body wasn't listening.

Sebastian rubbed against him yet again.