The red emergency lights blink intermittently—BLINK… BLINK…—casting the room in jagged shadows. I sit beside Serafin's bed, fingers tightly wrapped around his, feeling the shallow rise and fall of his chest—HAAH… HAAH….
"Stay with me," I whisper, brushing damp hair from his forehead. "I'm not letting you leave me. Not now."
A monitor emits a steady BEEP… BEEP…, each pulse hammering in my chest like a countdown.
The medic leans closer, voice low. "His vitals are barely holding. Any sudden movement—"
"I know," I snap, voice tight. "I know. I'm not an idiot. I'm not stepping away."
The tactical officer stands near the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with his calm, infuriating detachment. "Your presence is… noted. But it's making him more unstable."
I spin toward him, anger flaring. "Making him unstable? I'm keeping him alive! If you think standing there is enough, think again!"
Serafin groans—GROAN—his fingers weakly curling around mine. "Cao…"
"I've got you," I whisper fiercely. "Don't you dare leave me."
The medic adjusts his oxygen mask—HISS—checking the lines again. "He's critical. If he destabilizes, we need every hand steady."
I grit my teeth. "Steady? He's barely breathing, and you're telling me to step back?"
The officer steps closer, voice low. "Caoimhe, your emotions are endangering him. Focus, not hysteria, is required."
I lean closer to Serafin, pressing my forehead against his temple. "Emotions? You think calm and detached will save him? He's alive because I fight for him. Not because you sit there like a goddamn statue!"
A faint CLICK echoes from the corridor. My heart jumps.
"What now?" I demand, eyes darting to the door.
"Protocol inspection," the officer says evenly. "Just ensuring compliance."
I tighten my grip on Serafin's hand. "Compliance? Or checking if they can control him without me noticing?"
The monitor beeps again—BEEP… BEEP…—his pulse jagged. I press my hand harder over his chest. "Stay with me… don't do this now!"
He twitches slightly—HNNG—weakly lifting his hand to touch mine. "Cao…"
"I'm here," I whisper fiercely. "I won't let go."
Footsteps echo—STEP… STEP…—from the hallway. I glance at the officer. "Who is it this time?"
He doesn't answer immediately, just narrows his eyes. "Routine monitoring."
"Routine my ass," I mutter. "Every step here feels like a threat."
Serafin groans again—GROAN—and I press my palm over his hand. "I'm not letting them near you without me seeing it."
The medic glances nervously at the monitor—BEEP… BEEP…—then back at me. "Any sudden surge in stress could destabilize him. Please, Caoimhe…"
"Do you hear me?" I snap. "I've been watching over him since the moment they nearly killed him. I know what he needs, and it isn't being left alone while you follow 'protocol!'"
The officer exhales sharply. "Your defiance is… noted. But he will only survive if handled correctly. Not emotionally."
I press my forehead harder against Serafin's. "Emotion is what keeps him alive. Not your sterile protocols. Not your calm. My hands, my breath, my heart… that's what's keeping him here!"
He weakly grips my fingers—CLENCH—and I hold him tighter. "Good… good… don't leave…"
A soft hum fills the room—HHHHMMM… HHHHMMM—the life support machines and ventilation blending into one constant reminder of fragility.
The door clicks—CLICK—locked automatically. My eyes snap toward it, tense. Every shadow seems alive.
"Quiet now," I whisper, voice barely audible. "Stay with me. Just breathe… keep breathing."
Serafin murmurs faintly—rasping—"Cao… here…"
"I'm here," I repeat, gripping his hand, brushing sweat from his brow. "I'm not leaving. Not now. Not ever."
The monitor beeps steadily—BEEP… BEEP…—but outside, the faint echo of movement—STEP… STEP…—reminds me that the facility is never truly empty.
And I know, with a sinking certainty, that the calm is temporary.
Because in this place, shadows watch, waiting for the moment we slip.
And when that moment comes… we'll be ready, or we won't survive it.