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You feel your body hit the floor with a loud thud.
You don’t know exactly what hit you, but it knocked you to the ground. You hear your name being called - the voice growing more frantic and distant every time you hear it. You try to focus your eyes above you, and the last thing you see is his pale face, eyebrows twisted into concern and eyes alight with rage. Your eyes close and then… nothing.
———————————————————
The room is dark with only the low burning of a candle casting a light over your body. You have just stirred awake - you become aware that you’re on a bed in a room that is not your own.
There’s a soft blanket over your body, carefully tucked around you. You feel cool beads of sweat dotting your forehead, occasionally sneaking down over your temples. You bring a shaky hand to your forehead and feel a bandage secured tightly over your eyebrow and the dull ache of a wound that is trying to heal. It feels as if you have never used your body before - muscles stiff, joints locked. you attempt to sit up but hear a shrill whisper order against it.
“No.”
You stare in the direction the voice came from, your eyes straining to adjust to the dark. The faint glow from the candle doesn’t allow for much, but you can vaguely make out the form of a seated man staring at you, black hair falling into his face.
“…Feitan?”
He doesn’t say anything in response. You hear the chair creak and the near silent sounds of footsteps approaching you. He pauses and you hear the rustling of his cloak as he crouches beside you. Your eyes have adjusted more, and you can make out the expression on his face.
His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks tired, as if he hasn’t slept in days. He never exactly looked rested, but this is different. He seems… worried.
He looks you over, and reaches his hand to push hair away from your eyes. You stare at him silently, not sure what to make of this situation. He isn’t a stranger, but you aren’t exactly close. You are coworkers, members of the same team. Nothing more, nothing less.
He brings his fingers down your cheek and gently lifts your chin, studying the wounds that decorate your skin. You flinch and let out a choked gasp as his face moves closer to yours, his eyes scanning every detail of your face.
“…healing well…”
He draws back and adjusts himself to sit more comfortably, still keeping his gaze on you. You feel his gaze linger on your eyes, and you look away out of reflex.
“You… afraid?”
It was less of a question and more of a statement. You look back at him, and this time he was the one who looked away.
You aren’t necessarily afraid of him. Yes, he is deeply sadistic and terrifying and some of the methods he uses for torture make your stomach turn, but you aren’t afraid of him as a concept.
You are, however, afraid of the way he is looking at you like you are something delicate and fragile that he wants to keep safe.
“I’m not afraid. I’m just… very tired, and very sore.”
You wince as you speak. The movement of any muscles seems to be too much for your body to handle. You cough, and soreness overtakes your body with every heave of your chest. He reaches to you again and holds your chin, waiting for the coughs to subside. You feel cool water pass your lips and fill your mouth. He releases your chin and you swallow, a sense of relief passing over you. You look back up at him and smile.
“Thank you, Feitan.”
He looks back at you, his gaze lingering on your lips and you notice his expression soften for a moment. He looks away and stands back up.
“You sleep more. You still healing.”
You watch him walk back to the chair by the door where he sits down, folds his arms, and looks away. You feel yourself smiling as your eyelids lowered, sleep taking hold of you. The warmth of the blanket ensconces you and it’s scent is the same as his.
———————————————————————
You awaken again, this time a lot less delicately. Light is pouring in from a window and you hear the sound of shuffling and fabric rustling. A hand grips your shoulder and gives it a shake.
“Hey Rookie, wake up. I need to check your stitches.”
You roll over onto your back and Machi is standing over you. She begins poking and prodding at your face, and with little delicacy, rips the blanket away from your body. She examines all of your injuries with an almost reckless abandon. You wince each time she raises a part of you to inspect. She lifts up the bandage on your forehead and you gasp in pain. You find yourself missing Feitans careful touch.
Feitan… your chest flutters at the thought.
Machi pulls a chair over beside the bed and removes your dressing. She works silently, cleaning what blood had crept through the stitches and reapplying bandages as needed. She’s rough, but she knows what she’s doing.
“So, that was a pretty bad hit you took. How are you feeling?”
“Pretty awful, but better than a few days ago.”
“That’s good. You’re healing fine and should be back to normal in a few days.”
You nod and pause. You don’t actually remember what happened. You recall hitting the ground and then you were here.
“What exactly happened?”
Machi shrugged.
“Not really sure. We were all busy fighting our own battles but we heard a loud scream, a boom, and then we found Feitan holding your body surrounded by a bunch of absolutely scorched bodies. He didn’t say much, just carried you back and threatened to kill me if I didn’t ‘make you better’.”
You stare at her in surprise and she continued. “Boss was pissed. No infighting rule, you know? I was obviously going to help you, but I’ve never seen Fei so angry.”
You find yourself unable speak. You don’t know what to do with this information. You remembered being up against a group of beasts and seeing Feitan not far from you dealing with his own enemies. You didn’t really think he’d noticed or paid attention to you before. After all, you were just coworkers. Nothing more, nothing less.
“It’s good to see you up though. You’ve been out for a few days now.”
“How long?”
“Five days. Feitan’s been guarding your door this whole time. I just forced him to leave and get some sleep, but who knows if he even will.”
“He was watching over me?”
“Yeah. Guess he feels responsible, or something. I don’t know, or care, to be frank.”
She brings the last bandage to your wound and presses it on. She takes a second to look over her handiwork and stands up.
“Take it easy for now. I’ll check the wounds in a couple of days.”
She waves over her shoulder and leaves the room.
You are left feeling stunned with the information she had just told you. It didn’t make sense. Why did he work so hard to save you? The Troupe had eachothers backs, it was true, but never at the expense of another.
You pull the blanket close. The scent is warm, musky, almost smoky. It smells like him. Was it his blanket, you wonder, did he wrap you in this and lay you in bed?
Suddenly, you’re overcome with the urge to urinate. It has been days, afterall.
You stumble to the lavatory, finding yourself surprised at how much easier it is for you to move compared to a few days ago. Whatever Machi did for you was truly magical. You relieve yourself with a sigh. Moving about has made you feel more like a person again. You head to the sink to splash some water on your face and are stopped in your tracks by your reflection.
It’s you, but utterly horrifying looking. In addition to the bandages and swelling, your hair is twisted and matted and ignoring all laws of physics that you’ve ever learned. You sigh and do what you can with your fingers to sort it but don’t have much luck. You decide it’s not the time to worry about your looks and make your way back to the room. Machi did say you needed to take it easy.
You slowly walk through the hallway and hear a familiar voice hiss from an open door.
“Why you up? You should be resting.”
You turn and see Feitan emerge, arms folded and an irritated look on his face. He looks exhausted, with deep purple half circles below his eyes.
“I… had to… use the bathroom...”
His scowl deepens and he shrugs. He takes a step towards you and gestures to follow.
“Back to bed. I take you.”
He waits until you step forward and matches your pace. You can feel him monitoring your gait, ready to steady you should you stumble. You make it back to the room and sit on the bed. He stands at the doorway, watching you make yourself comfortable. you turn to meet his eyes. He glances down, arms folded again.
“Feitan… Machi told me a bit of what happened.”
He jerks a bit in acknowledgment but does not say anything.
“Thank you… for protecting me. But I don’t understand, why did you…”
He looks back at you, and cuts you off.
“It nothing. It job.”
You feel disappointment fall over you. Of course. He was just doing his duty for the team. It was silly of you to think it meant anything special. He would have done the same thing for any of the others.
He studied your face. You noticed he wasn’t making any effort to leave. You became very conscious of your appearance under his scrutinizing gaze, and attempted to fix your hair again. He scoffed and took a step towards you.
“No touch. It not problem right now.”
You nod and move your hands away, but as his stare continues to fall on you, your hands reflexively return to combing through your hair.
“Enough. Stop. I return soon.”
He leaves the room and you let your shoulders relax. You hear his footsteps approach again and notice a hair brush in his hand. He comes towards you and brings the chair with him, and points at it.
“You sit. I fix.”
You’re hesitant. What is he planning, here?
He scoffs again, a hint of agitation in the sound.
“You want fix or not?”
Cautiously, you stand up and sit in the chair. He moves behind you and you feel his fingers gently tugging at your hair. You are surprised at how carefully he separates your matted locks from the salvageable hair.
You shiver as his fingers run along your scalp and brush the hair from your face back. The brush tugs against a knot and small tears form at the corner of your eyes and you let out a slight whimper. He notices, and adjusts the force he is using to brush.
“It hurt?”
His voice has softened considerably. You feel your anxiety melting away under his doting hands.
“It’s not so bad. It feels… nice, actually.”
He continues his work without a word, the brush moving through your hair more smoothly and softly with every pass through. The bristles graze your scalp and a deep relaxation takes over your body. His hands move deftly through your hair, each knot becoming untangled with his touch.
He lifts your hair at the neck and caresses the nape of your neck, sending tingles through your entire body. He pauses.
“That ok?”
You nod slowly as if in a daze. He continues brushing until your hair lays flat, and pulls away. He walks around to face you and straightens up the hair framing your face. His fingers graze your cheek and he tucks a loose hair behind your ear.
“There. You pretty again.”
Your eyes snap open and meet his. He said it so matter-of-factly that you are taken aback completely. He looks unphased.
“W…what?”
His face twists into its usual annoyed state.
“You hear what I say.”
“O-oh… uh. Thank… you?”
He rolls his eyes and steps back.
“Ok. You back to bed now. More rest.”
You nod and stand up. You feel very at ease and climb back into the bed.
He approaches you and lifts the blanket over you. He takes care to see that every inch of you is covered. You watch him do this, wondering if he would have done this for the others. Would he have tucked Shalnark in like this, or Phinks? You smile to yourself at the thought. He catches your smile and you think for a second you notice the corner of his mouth tug upward.
He steps away from you and walks towards the door. He pauses in the door way and turns back to look at you.
“Earlier you ask why I help you.”
You nod at him and begin to speak but he cuts you off. He turns his whole body towards you and this time, he doesn’t hesitate to let himself smile.
“I help because I like you.”
”W-what!”
”You hear me.”
With that, he walks out of the room leaving you at a loss for words.