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The forest was too quiet after the ambush. No birdsong, no wind, just the sound of breathing, harsh, wet, and uneven.
Felix pressed his hand harder against Chan’s side, trying to stop the bleeding. The guard’s eyes were only half-lidded now, his skin clammy and pale, his lips whispering something that made no sense. Felix crouched beside him, knees soaked in moss and mud, and willed his voice not to tremble.
It was just supposed to be a quiet ride in the forest. How could this have happened?
“Stay with me, Channie,” Felix said, “You hear me?”
Chan didn’t answer. He only shivered violently and coughed once, blood painting the corner of his mouth. Felix clenched his jaw. There was no one around and the healer he’d called was still an hour away. There was no time to wait.
He reached into his satchel for a roll of cloth and a salve jar, setting them carefully on the ground beside him. With hands that shook more than he wanted to admit, he pulled the blade from Chan’s side, swiftly, cleanly. Chan jerked once and then sagged, breathing faster now, his body fighting to stay upright.
“I’m sorry,” Felix whispered. “Just hold on a little longer.”
The cloak was soaked through. His tunic too. Felix had no choice, he had to get to the wound, clean it properly.
He slipped his hand under the edge of Chan’s shirt, carefully peeling it away from the bloodied skin. Chan moaned faintly, but didn’t wake. His fever was rising fast.
Felix’s fingers brushed his ribs, searching for the tear in the flesh until-
He froze.
There, beneath his touch, just below the left side of Chan’s ribcage, a mark. Dark and distinct. The exact size of a palm. Felix’s palm.
And the moment his skin touched it again, it lit up.
Soft, shimmering color bloomed beneath his hand. A rainbow, warm and gentle, pulsed like a heartbeat. Like recognition.
Felix stared, lips parted, throat gone dry.
“...No,” He breathed. “That’s not possible.”
But that mark was unmistakable. They were soulmates.
His breath caught on something fragile. All these years… Chan had never touched him, not once, not even in the smallest of ways. Felix had always wondered why. He wondered why Chan kept his gloves on even when eating, why he stood just a fraction too far away when walking beside him.
Now he knew.
Felix’s hand trembled where it hovered over the mark, afraid to touch again but unable to look away. He stared at Chan’s face, still pale, brow damp with fever.
And then, from cracked lips, Chan spoke.
“...Felix.”
Barely a whisper and Felix’s heart broke open. He leaned forward, brushed the hair gently from Chan’s forehead. “I’m here.”
Chan didn’t stir, only breathed his name again, softer this time. As if saying it gave him comfort.
Later, when the healers arrived, they found Felix still sitting there, knees muddy, hands bloody, a rainbow mark glowing faintly beneath his fingers. He didn’t move until Chan was safely in a healer’s tent.
And even then, he didn’t leave Chan’s side.
⋆.˚🦋༘⋆
The fever broke at dawn.
Felix had kept vigil by Chan’s bedside all night, eyes half-focused on the rise and fall of his chest, counting each breath like it might vanish if he didn’t keep watch. The healers had done what they could, healing the wound, and yet Chan still hadn’t woken.
And now, as the sunlight pressed pale gold against the tent canvas, Chan stirred.
Felix sat up straighter. “Chan?”
A groggy blink. Then another. Chan’s eyes opened fully, unfocused and blurry. His lips parted like he meant to speak, but his throat was dry.
Felix moved immediately, pouring water and holding it to his mouth. “Drink slowly.”
Chan obeyed without question. He didn’t even seem surprised that Felix was the one caring for him.
When he finally lowered the cup, Chan leaned back against the pillows, voice a dry rasp as he asked, “What happened?”
Felix frowned. “We were attacked by bandits. They made off with my cloak and our horses and you got stabbed while fighting them off.”
Chan nodded faintly. His eyes were still distant, but his mind was waking up.
“You stayed?” he asked after a moment, like it was just occurring to him.
Felix gave a short, breathless laugh. “Of course I stayed.”
Chan’s brows furrowed. “You should’ve run. You could’ve gotten hurt.”
Felix shook his head. “I wasn’t going to leave you.”
Chan turned his head toward Felix slowly. Their eyes met, and this time, Chan really looked at him.
And paused.
Felix watched it happen. The flicker of memory, the narrowing of Chan’s eyes as he rewound something only he had seen from behind the fog of fever. His hand moved toward his side, grazing over the bandages, over where the mark was.
His breath caught.
Felix didn’t make him ask. “You were burning up,” He said softly. “I had to bandage the wound. My hand brushed it. Your mark. It glowed.”
Chan’s lips parted, eyes wide. “You saw it.”
“I did.”
Silence stretched between them. Chan’s gaze dropped. “I didn’t mean for us to find out like that.”
“I know.”
Another pause. “I thought… if I kept my distance, maybe it wouldn’t happen. Maybe I could protect you better.”
Felix tilted his head. “By denying it?”
Chan nodded once. “I thought if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t feel obligated.”
Felix’s brow furrowed. “Do you think I’d only care because of a mark?”
“I didn’t want to find out.”
The tent was quiet for a moment, broken only by the rustle of canvas in the breeze and the faint chirp of birds returning to the woods outside. Felix reached forward slowly, hand open and visible. He took Chan’s hand in his own.
Chan looked at him like he’d never really let himself look before. “You don’t seem scared.”
“I’m not,” Felix said quietly. “I think I’ve been waiting a long time to understand why I always felt… close to you. Even when you were silent. Even when you stood three steps behind.”
Chan swallowed, voice rough. “You deserve someone who isn’t afraid of what it means.”
“I don’t want someone else,” Felix said simply. “I want the one who said my name when he was half a breath away from death.”
Chan blinked quickly, his eyes bright with something that had nothing to do with pain.
Felix gave him a small smile. “Even in sleep, you chose me.”
Chan closed his eyes and breathed in deep.
Then, softly, “I’d choose you again. Every time.”