I SIT WITH Llywelyn for hours, watching him sleep and waiting for him to stir. I don't leave his side, except to use the bathroom or get a drink of water. Mira brings me food and tells me stories about her day, but I barely listen. I'm too focused on him.
I keep holding his hand, hoping he'll squeeze back. I keep talking to him, hoping he'll hear me. I keep kissing his forehead, hoping he'll smile.
But he doesn't. He remains still and silent, oblivious to my presence.
I know he's alive. I can see his veins pulsing softly, his chest rising and falling. I can feel his warmth and his breath. But it's not enough. It's not the same as seeing his eyes open, hearing his voice, feeling his touch.
I miss him so much.
I want him back.
I need him back.
"Come on, Llywelyn..." I whisper, leaning close to his ear. "Wake up. Please wake up."
I brush his hair away from his face, and kiss his cheek. It's dry and cool, and I frown.
Is he dehydrated?
I touch his lips with my fingers, and they feel a bit cracked. He should be getting fluids from the tubes, but maybe it's not enough. Maybe he needs more.
I look around, trying to find a nurse or a doctor, but there's no one in the room. It's just us.
I sigh and stand up. I'll have to get some water for him myself. I know where the kitchen is. I've been there before. I can do this.
I let go of his hand, and he makes a soft noise. A low groan, almost a whine. My heart skips a beat and I turn back to him.
"Llywelyn?" I say, my voice pitched far too high.
His eyelids flutter, and his veins glow a little brighter. He's waking up. He's finally waking up.
I rush to his side and take his hand again. "Llywelyn, hey. Hey, y—you... stupid fish, wake up."
He groans again and opens his eyes, just a crack. They're unfocused and hazy, and I can tell he's not fully aware yet. I lean over him, trying to get his attention.
"Llywelyn? Can you hear me? It's me. Sarah. You're okay. You're in the ship. You're safe." I say, and I hope he can understand me. "You were hurt, but you're going to be fine. Just... stay with me, okay?"
He blinks a few times, and his eyes slowly focus on my face. He stares at me for a moment, and then his lips move. He tries to say something, but his voice is barely a whisper.
"Sarah..." He says, and it sounds like a relief. "You're... alive..."
"Yeah, I'm alive, you idiot." I laugh, and I feel tears prick my eyes. "You're the one who almost died. You're the one who..." I trail off, and shake my head. "Never mind that. Just... how do you feel? Are you in pain? Do you need anything?"
He closes his eyes and takes a shallow breath. "Thirsty..." He mumbles. "So... thirsty..."
"Okay, okay. I'll get you some water. Don't move. And... don't you f—fucking close your eyes again, do you hear me? You stay awake, you hear?"
He nods weakly, and I let go of his hand. I hurry out of the medical room and run to the kitchen. I grab a glass and fill it with water from the tap. I don't know if it's safe to drink, but I don't care. I just need to get it to him.
I run back to the medical room, my heart pounding in my chest. I'm afraid of what I might find when I get there. I'm afraid he might have passed out again. Or worse.
But when I enter the room, I see him still lying on the bed, his eyes open and his veins glowing dimly. He looks at me as I approach him, and I feel a surge of relief.
He smiles. It's a soft smile and it looks... so beautiful a part of me wants to cry uselessly.
"I brought you water," I say, and I sit down next to him. "Here, let me help you."
I lift his head gently and bring the glass to his lips. He sips from it slowly, and I can see the relief in his eyes. He drinks half of it, and then pulls away.
"Thank you..." He says, and his voice is a bit stronger now. "That's... better..."
I set the glass down and lower his head back to the pillow. I stroke his hair, and smile at him. "You're welcome."
He looks at me for a long moment, and his eyes are soft and warm. His hand moves, and he touches my cheek. His fingers are cold and dry, but his touch is gentle.
"You're... really here..." He says, and his voice cracks a little. "You're. Alive. And... with me."
I blink back the tears that threaten to fall and nod. "Yeah. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
I'm not.
I chose to stay with him.
I'm not leaving him again.
He closes his eyes and his veins pulse brighter, bluish-pink. He sighs, and his lips curve into a smile.
"Good..." He murmurs. "I'm... glad."
I—I have the terrible urge to kiss him. His forehead, at least. Like I have been. But he's awake now, and...
No, that's. That's a discussion for another time. When he's healthy. When I'm not a mess of guilt and relief and joy.
"I'm... I'm going to go tell the doctor you're awake, okay? I'll be right back," I say instead, standing up. "Don't... you can't fall asleep again. You're not allowed. Okay?"
He grabs my wrist with surprising strength. "Don't go." He says, and his eyes open again. There's a hint of fear in them, and it makes my chest ache. "Please... don't leave me alone."
I...
I look between him and the door.
I should—I need... to go and get the doctor. To have them check him. She—the doctor—would want to know. I'm sure she would. Maybe it's even important. But what... what if I come back and he's unconscious? What if he never wakes up and I—
I close my eyes and swallow.
That's... not going to happen. But I also can't bring myself to pry my wrist out of his hand. I don't want him to be alone and scared. I want to stay with him.
But...
"Okay," I say, and sit back down. "I'll stay. But you have to tell me if you feel any worse, okay? If you feel dizzy or nauseous or anything. Promise?"
He nods, and his grip loosens a little. "I promise."
I sigh, and take his hand in mine. I give it a gentle squeeze. "Good."
He smiles, and his veins pulse pink again. He looks at me with such tenderness that I can hardly stand it.
"Sarah..." He says, and his voice is low and soft. "You're... so beautiful."
I blush and look away from him. "Oh, shut up. You're delirious. You're going to throw a fit when you're lucid if you keep talking like that, and then I'll have an angry fish roommate for no damn reason." I grumble, more out of habit than any real desire for him to stop talking.
In truth, I like hearing him say that. Even if he's completely delusional, it makes me feel... nice.
He chuckles, and then winces. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts." He says, but he's still smiling.
"You. Should swear at me and call me hetchki. It's weird if you don't."
"I am. In pain, you ritzah. I can't be bothered to think of insults when I'm dying."
"You're. Not dying." I say it too fiercely. "I forbid it."
He raises an eyebrow at me, looking amused. "Have you become my master, then? You'll command me to live?"
"If I have to be. Yes."
"Don't think. That's legal."
"Fuck your laws. I've fought them before, I'll do it again." I tighten my hand on his. "And I'll win."
He stares at me, his expression softening again. He lifts his free hand and touches my face. His fingers trace my jawline, and I shiver.
"I think... that I might—"
Whatever he's about to say is cut off as the door slams and female scream drowns him out.
"LLYWLEYN YOU'RE AWAKE!"
I wince, eyes closing immediately, but can't help a small smile. "That'll... be Mira."