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Hudson’s body was trembling like a leaf the moment he sat down. If Callum didn’t know better, he would’ve offered his jacket thinking that he was just freezing in the cold weather.
Everything went wrong— Martin was killed during a jester haunt; body mutilated with every limb twisted in an unnatural way, his eyes rolled back into his skull and saliva foaming in his mouth, choking on his own fluids. A scene of pure gore displayed for the whole lobby to see.
Someone had seen Hudson curse Jack in the corner, forcing him to be silenced for a whole night. It wasn’t supposed to be seen, nobody was supposed to see him in the act— but someone had called him out by the end of the night.
They were doomed, there was barely a sliver of hope left for them.
And to make matters worse, Candice had her gun out right beside her and could easily point it to Hudson’s forehead, executing him swiftly in front of everyone even if he begged and prayed silently. All it took was one discussion—
One wrong move and Hudson will inevitably die.
Callum moved his hand over to him, nudging it towards Hudson’s direction, offering to let him ground himself and control the anxiety within him. It could help him to look less suspicious, at least if he looks confident in lying then he’ll be proven innocent in the judge’s eyes.
They intertwined their fingers together behind the log, Hudson squeezed Callum’s palm in reply. Callum could hear Hudson muttering something, mouth visibly spelling the words out. Their breath fogged in the cold air, lips trembling apart.
“I’m scared,”
“I’m so scared, Cal.” Hudson’s head bowed lower, it almost looked like he was going to fold on himself. “I’m scared, I think they know it’s me.”
Hudson’s fingers were still trembling; still trying to squeeze tighter, his palm was almost white from how much pressure he kept on adding. He desperately tried to focus on something else, focus on the discussion everyone else was having— it felt like his mind was stuck in place.
His breathing was erratic too, his chest felt tight. Tighter than it should be— cold air felt suffocating.
It's cold.
Too cold.
Hudson wanted to curl on himself, desperate for more heat, but obviously he couldn't. Not during a meeting with the rest of the civilians, that would just get him voted out immediately.
His clothes felt horrid against his skin, it felt like they were choking him from how much they stuck onto it. Everything felt so bad, too tight or too textured against his skin. He could feel everything.
Callum’s hand squeezed his back. His eyes flickered towards the blonde’s direction.
“Breathe.” Callum mouthed out— or was he speaking? He wouldn’t be able to tell anyway, the ringing in his ears was too loud.
Right. He couldn’t breathe properly. Hudson instinctively gasped for air, but choked on his saliva instead. He threw a coughing fit in front of everyone, folding on himself even more to hide his face.
Everyone was staring.
They know it's him.
They’re going to kill him, he’s sure of it.
Fast and heavy breaths, harsh in and outs of cold air. His lungs were burning from the deprivation of oxygen and the desperate inhales for something, for anything that can ground him properly.
His hands reached over to his chest— climbing towards his trachea.
I need to breathe.
Hudson’s chest hurts— his eyes were burning and blurring before he could process that he was on the verge of crying. His heart was beating rapidly, it felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.
He couldn’t think properly, nothing was reaching his head. He could feel his fingers loosely scrambling for his tie to loosen it, a small attempt to greedily take in more air than necessary. He wanted to scratch at his throat; maybe if he punctured a hole, he could take in the oxygen better—
Someone stopped him from further continuing the action. Before he could process it, Callum had already swatted the hand away and knelt in front of him. Pressure was applied to the center of Hudson’s palm, a small but weak attempt to shift his sensory attention.
“Breathe,”
Hudson’s ears were still filled with cotton and felt like they were deafened by buzzing lights. He couldn’t hear what Callum had to say, but he could imagine the words out himself.
He tried his best, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, fighting the instinct to exhale as quickly as he could to breathe in more oxygen.
In, and out.
Hudson didn’t notice Callum had placed his hand over the center of chest, pressing lightly onto his sternum on each exhale.
After what— maybe four, five rounds probably? his senses came back to him slowly; the ringing dissipated and the cold didn’t feel like it was biting anymore, albeit still there. His vision was back— well, at least somewhat. He blinked out the tears, some already streaking his face.
“Great, can you hear me now?” Callum’s voice dripped with honey, soft and light. Almost like he saw Hudson as something fragile. Maybe he was at the moment, he wouldn’t deny it if anyone were to ask.
A slow nod, attention still directed towards the pain in his chest.
“Your pupils are dilated, by the way.” Callum whispered.
Hudson stared for a moment longer before looking away, staring at the rocky slope nearby. Damn, suddenly every surrounding item was enticing.
Callum went back to sit beside Hudson, scooting a bit further to lessen the suspicion. Hopefully people would think it was just a friendly move, rather than something deeper.
He knew that Hudson didn’t exactly like his relationships to be public— it always ended up bad, if not the worst thing to happen in his life.
“Hey,” Hudson croaked, a small voice that barely passed as a whisper. His voice was still scratchy, throat dry from the panic attack.
“Can we share a room together tonight—” Callum flinched slightly at the request. “There’s no ill intention, I swear!” Hudson whisper-shouted at the reaction.
“I just—” a deep inhale, “I think I need to be with someone tonight.” Hudson looked away, facing the mountain terrain beside him.
“Sure,” the reply was short, not like Callum knew what else to say.
“So, mind telling me your role, Hudson?” Noah’s voice echoed a bit, a little too loud for the enclosed space.
“Judge,” Hudson plastered a smile onto his face. “I helped us vote out Emma, even though she ended up being a jester.”
Just a little bluff, it won’t kill anyone. Judge was dead anyway, they were killed last night by Callum.
He shrugged. “Not my fault, she wouldn’t admit to her role!” Noah stared suspiciously before turning his gaze away, deciding to believe him for the time being.
Callum reached over to Hudson again, placing his own palm onto his hand. The warmth given made him feel tingly, a small sense of security and happiness filled his nerves