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“He’s too hot.” Vincenzo muttered, watching his adoptive grandma place the back of her hand against Michel's forehead, frowning at the heat she felt, “I thought the antidote would help.”
“You are not an idiot Vincenzo, don’t act like one.” His Grandma scolded, “The antidote stops him from dying, but it’s up to him to fight off the poison itself.”
Michel whimpered, as if on cue, head tossing from side to side as his face crinkled in fear.
“Hyung...” He whimpered in Korean, “... Hyung, please stop!”
Vincenzo frowned. He’d killed Han Seok months ago, but his ghost still seemed to linger.
“What’s he saying?” His Grandma asked.
He barely heard her though, taking Michel's hand in his own, “Michel... Han Seo.” He whispered back in Korean, “You need to wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”
Michel didn’t respond, his whimpers growing more and more panicked, breathing starting to hyperventilate.
“Michel!” Vincenzo shook him a little harshly, as the younger man gave a harsh intake of breath, barely cogent eyes glancing over at Vincenzo. Sweat was practically dripping off of the younger man’s face, hair plastered against his face.
“H-Hyung- “
“I’m here.” Vincenzo replied, “You were having a nightmare.” He looked up at his Grandma, “His fever is spiking, isn’t there anything else we can do?”
It was nearly two in the morning and the pair of them were exhausted, but every attempt at getting the other to go to bed were ignored.
“We simply need to be there for him.” She whispered, “He is strong. He has survived worse than this, and he will continue to survive.” Her fingers were brushing the young man’s hair away from his sweaty forehead, as Michel slipped back off into a fitful sleep, “How much has he been through?”
“…. More than you could imagine.” Vincenzo sighed, “More than I imagined anyone ever going through before meeting him.”
“You’ve met the dregs of what society has to offer. Many of them had difficult childhoods. Your own childhood was not easy.”
“His was worse…. And yet he still turned out nice.” Vincenzo shook his head, “I didn’t and neither did a lot of those dregs, hence the name.”
“… The nightmares?”
Vincenzo just shook his head, not wanting to distress the older woman.
Han Seo… Michel, had gone through so much whilst under the ‘care’ of his father and half-brother. How could he ever accurately describe it in words?
Michel shuddered, as though knowing what Vincenzo was thinking.
Thankfully, his Grandma took the hint, fingers continuing to run through Michel’s damp hair, humming to a tune that Vincenzo vaguely recognised from his own childhood. An old lullaby used during the evenings when the memories got to be too much.
Even now, he could see Michel’s shivers easing until he was finally fully relaxed. Yes, he was still feverish, but the nightmares had been pushed back, meaning that he would get the sleep he so desperately needed.
Relief rushed through him.
“Thank you.” He whispered.
“Anything for my boys.”
Her boys.
Him and Michel.
Vincenzo could never have hoped for anything better.
……………………………………………..
The silence from his Grandma scared him.
Paulo could remember how terrifying the older woman was, offering sweets one moment, and plotting someone’s downfall the next.
That was what she was doing now, he just knew it.
……………………………………………………………………
“Do you remember when you and Paulo used to fight and argue?”
Turning his attention away from Michel, Vincenzo nodded.
“Do you remember what I used to say to you.”
“… That sometimes words cause the most damage. Not fists, knives or guns.” He narrowed his eyes at her, “Why? What are you planning?”
“An assassination of a different sorts.” She slowly got to her feet, “This rivalry between you has gone on for long enough. It is time for Paulo to respect the wishes of the family.”
As horrible as it sounded, Vincenzo wasn’t entirely sure she fully supported him.
More like, she was placing her bets on two horses, and whichever one lost, would be shot.
Turning his thoughts away from that particular line of thought, he went back to watching Michel sleep.
He looked more peaceful now, indicating that the worst of the poison had probably passed.
How could someone not feel protective over him?
How could someone have even tried to hurt him in the first place?
……………………………………
He didn’t remember even falling asleep, but he woke up quickly, seeing that he was still by Michel’s bedside, head and arms resting on the mattress and draped over him, was a soft, angora woollen blanket.
Okay… maybe she had chosen a side, if only slightly.