The days seemed to blend together as Lucian's recovery progressed, but the journey was far from linear.
His mind, still trapped in the fragments of a fractured timeline, began to slowly rebuild itself with each moment Rowan stayed by his side. It was a painstaking process, one that moved in fits and starts, but every time Lucian stirred, a little more of himself returned.
Rowan had never left.
His presence was a constant, a tether that kept Lucian anchored to the present, when everything else was slipping through the cracks.
At first, Lucian had felt the weight of the rift's corruption pressing against him, like a heavy blanket smothering him from within. But now, with each passing day, there were clearer moments, flashes of recognition that brought Lucian back to himself.
Lucian's gaze followed Rowan across the room, his eyes flickering with something like recognition. It was brief, fleeting, but it was there.
"Rowan..." Lucian whispered, his voice raspy. "You're real, aren't you?"
Rowan stepped closer, his heart tightening as he heard the uncertainty in Lucian's words. He sat at the edge of the bed, his hand gently brushing Lucian's hair back from his forehead. "I'm real," Rowan whispered back, his voice soft and reassuring.
He reached out, placing his hand over Lucian's, grounding him. "I'm here."
Lucian blinked, his eyes losing focus for a moment before returning to Rowan's face.
There was a brief flicker of fear in his gaze—fear of not being able to hold onto the clarity he was beginning to regain, fear of losing everything again.
Rowan felt the weight of that fear, the unspoken plea in Lucian's eyes. "You're not alone in this," Rowan continued, his voice firm but full of tenderness. "We'll rebuild it, piece by piece."
Lucian closed his eyes, as though the weight of his words were too much to bear. But Rowan didn't move. He stayed, his fingers gently tracing circles on the back of Lucian's hand.
The bond between them was subtle but undeniable. Every touch, every word, seemed to bring Lucian a little closer to stability.
For the first time in days, Lucian's breathing slowed, his chest rising and falling with a steadier rhythm. His face softened, and he shifted slightly on the bed, instinctively drawing closer to Rowan.
There was an unspoken trust there, an understanding that Rowan was the anchor he needed to find his way back.
"Thank you," Lucian whispered, his voice barely audible. "For not giving up on me."
Rowan's heart clenched, but his expression softened with a quiet smile.
The room felt warmer, as if the bond between them was slowly knitting back together, like the faintest threads of hope weaving through the fractured remnants of Lucian's mind.
Rowan continued to hold his hand, the quiet assurance of his presence becoming a grounding force, allowing Lucian to gather the strength to keep fighting his way back.
Lucian's attempts at engagement were slow, tentative, and often filled with doubt.
Every time he reached for something solid in his mind, it felt like his memories slipped further away, just beyond his grasp.
But Rowan was patient. Rowan understood. And with each small victory—each word Lucian spoke, each flicker of clarity—he felt that slow building connection between them.
One afternoon, Lucian looked at Rowan, his eyes a little clearer than before, though still clouded by the fog of his fractured mind.
He exhaled deeply, his voice shaky but determined. "I don't want to lose this... lose you," he murmured, his hand reaching out to touch Rowan's arm, a silent plea for reassurance.
Rowan's heart ached, but he didn't flinch.
He leaned in, his forehead pressing against Lucian's for a moment, closing his eyes as the familiar warmth of Lucian's presence flooded over him. "You won't lose me," Rowan whispered softly. "I'm here. And I'll be here as long as you need me."
Lucian's breath caught, and for a moment, he seemed to find some clarity in the softness of Rowan's touch. His hand moved to rest on Rowan's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath his fingertips.
There was something in the rhythm that anchored him, something real and constant.
"I don't know how to fix me.", Lucian admitted, his voice breaking slightly.
Rowan placed a hand on his cheek, lifting his face so their eyes met. "You don't have to fix anything. Not right now. Just… be here with me. That's all you need to do. And I'll help you, every step of the way."
Lucian's eyes searched Rowan's face, still clouded with uncertainty, but there was a flicker of understanding, a small spark of hope. "I don't know how to trust this... to trust myself," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice making Rowan's chest tighten.
"You don't have to trust everything all at once," Rowan said, his voice gentle but firm. "Just trust that I'm here, and that we'll face this together. I'm not going anywhere."
Lucian's hand tightened slightly on Rowan's chest, a faint tremor in his fingers. "I don't want to lose you again, Rowan," he said, his voice almost a whisper, the weight of his fear hanging between them.
Rowan's heart ached at the words, and without thinking, he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Lucian's forehead. "You won't," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere."
Lucian closed his eyes, the warmth of Rowan's touch and the soothing sound of his voice wrapping around him like a protective cocoon. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt the fear begin to loosen its grip on him, just slightly.
"Thank you," Lucian murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "For staying."
Rowan's eyes softened as he cupped Lucian's face, his thumb gently tracing his jaw. "You don't have to thank me. I'm yours, Lucian. Always."
Lucian had been trying for days to hold onto the clarity he had regained, but it was like trying to catch smoke in his hands. When he tried to focus on Rowan, sometimes Rowan would flicker, like a shadow he couldn't quite hold onto.
His memories were a twisted blend of present and past, old timelines bleeding into his current self, making it hard to distinguish what was real and what was an illusion.
Rowan had remained patient through all of it, his presence the constant anchor that kept Lucian grounded. But even Rowan was feeling the weight of it.
Every moment of guiding Lucian, every soft word of reassurance, was a strain on him.
Rowan was slipping.
The constant mental effort it took to stabilize Lucian was beginning to affect his own stability.
The exhaustion was visible in the faint lines under his eyes, the quiet sighs that escaped him when he thought Lucian wasn't looking.
But Rowan never faltered. He stayed, his hand always close, always offering a touch of reassurance.
The corruption bloom was more than just a physical ailment.
It wasn't just about Lucian's fractured brain, it was a manifestation of the emotional and mental chaos he carried within.
Each time Lucian slipped back into his past timelines, the corruption bloomed within him, a sickly wave that twisted his emotions, making him feel as though he didn't belong in this time.
It was a constant fight—against the past, against the future, and most of all, against himself.
One evening, as Lucian sat in his hospital bed, he felt a sudden surge of panic.
His breath quickened, and he gripped the sides of the bed, trying to steady himself. His vision blurred, and for a moment, Rowan seemed to fade from his sight. It was as though his very reality was slipping away, as though the timeline itself was trying to erase him.
"No… not again…" Lucian gasped, his voice strained. The familiar sense of disorientation swept over him, and he closed his eyes, as though blocking out the world would stop the storm in his mind.
Rowan was at his side instantly, his hand on Lucian's shoulder, his touch grounding. "Lucian, focus on me," Rowan said softly, his voice calm, though Lucian could hear the strain in it. "You're here. You're with me."
Lucian clung to the sound of Rowan's voice, as though it was the only thing tethering him to reality.
He opened his eyes and looked into Rowan's, trying to focus.
The pull of the past, the rift in his mind, was so strong—he felt like he was being pulled away from Rowan. But Rowan's hand, steady and sure, was there, offering the only lifeline.
"I'm here," Rowan repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. He moved closer, brushing his lips softly against Lucian's forehead. "You're not alone."
As Lucian's mind began to slip, a quiet notification pinged in the background, unnoticed by the two of them. It was a subtle thing, like the whisper of a ghost, barely audible amidst the chaos of Lucian's recovery.
[System Notification: Synchronization error detected. Corruption bloom initiating. Adjusting thresholds.]
The system had been watching, waiting.
It had always been connected to Lucian, always present in the background of his mind.
But it was now more active than ever.
The system itself had started to recognize the fractures in Lucian's mind, trying to adjust and compensate. However, its presence only added to the mental strain.
The days of constant emotional and mental support were taking their toll on Rowan.
His exhaustion was becoming more evident with every passing hour.
He was still strong, still determined to help Lucian heal, but the weight of it was slowly crushing him.
Rowan's guiding abilities were infinite, but his own emotional reserves were finite. And with every step forward Lucian took, Rowan was being pulled deeper into the emotional turmoil, further away from his own sense of balance.
Lucian noticed it, even though he wasn't fully able to express it.
There was a slight tremor in Rowan's hands when he touched him, a moment of hesitation that Lucian couldn't ignore. "Rowan…" Lucian whispered, his voice hoarse. "You're… you're slipping."
Rowan's heart skipped a beat at the words. He had been trying so hard to keep it together, to hold everything up. But Lucian saw through it. Lucian always did.
"I'm fine," Rowan said, his voice steady but not quite convincing. He gently brushed his thumb over Lucian's knuckles, trying to reassure him.
But Lucian wouldn't have it. He reached up, his hand trembling as he cupped Rowan's cheek. "You're not fine, Rowan. You're carrying so much… so much for me."
Rowan closed his eyes, leaning into Lucian's touch. "I'm here for you," he whispered. "I'll always be here."
But even as the words left his mouth, Rowan couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing himself in the process of saving Lucian.
The emotional toll was becoming unbearable.
Rowan's Touch
Lucian could feel it—the weight of the struggle, the tension between them. It was thick, palpable in the air. And yet, in that moment, all Lucian wanted was to reassure Rowan. He wanted to give back some of the strength that Rowan had poured into him.
With his remaining strength, Lucian reached out, his hands trembling as they cupped Rowan's face.
He pulled Rowan closer, his lips meeting Rowan's in a tender kiss.
It was slow, deliberate, as if Lucian was trying to express all the gratitude, the trust, the fear, and the need he felt in that moment.
Rowan kissed him back, his hands gently cupping Lucian's face, his touch warm and steady, anchoring Lucian back to reality.
The kiss was soft at first, but it deepened as they both leaned into it, the connection between them electric and grounding all at once.
Rowan's hands slid down Lucian's arms, gently pulling him into an embrace.
Lucian's arms wrapped around him, holding him tight as if he were afraid that if he let go, Rowan might disappear.
Lucian closed his eyes, letting the sound of Rowan's heartbeat fill his senses. "I don't want to lose you," Lucian whispered, his voice raw with emotion.
"You won't," Rowan replied softly, holding him even tighter. "We'll heal, together."