---
The apartment felt colder after his father left.
Not from the weather. But from the way Arin collapsed onto the couch without a word—like his spine had turned to glass, and standing had become too dangerous.
Lucien hovered in the doorway, unsure.
He'd seen men bleed, scream, beg. He'd seen pain.
But this—this quiet, trembling stillness on Arin's face—this was worse.
Arin pressed his fingers into his temples, breathing unevenly. His pale skin was blotched faintly red. Not from anger. Not from shame.
From sheer, suffocating panic.
Lucien took a hesitant step forward. "Arin?"
No answer.
Another step. "Hey…"
Then Arin suddenly curled forward, both hands clutching his knees. His chest rose too fast. Too tight. A sharp, wheezing sound escaped him.
Lucien rushed over without thinking.
"Breathe," he said, kneeling beside the bed. "You're okay. It's over. He's gone."
Arin didn't respond—just gasped, hand pressed against his mouth like he was trying to stop the sound of it. His lips were trembling, eyes glazed, heart racing so fast Lucien could see it flutter in his throat.
Lucien reached out slowly. "Can I…?"
He didn't wait.
He pulled Arin gently against his chest, cradling him like something fragile. Arin didn't fight it. Didn't resist. He just let himself be held, fingers fisting into Lucien's shirt.
Lucien's voice dropped to a whisper. "Shh… I'm here. Just keep breathing. You're not back there. You're here. With me."
The weight of Arin's small body pressed against his chest, his head tucked under Lucien's chin.
"I hate him," Arin whispered hoarsely. "I hate all of them."
Lucien closed his eyes.
"I know."
They sat like that for what felt like forever—Arin's breath finally evening out, his fists unclenching slowly. When Lucien loosened his hold slightly, Arin didn't pull away.
Instead, he slumped against him. Quiet. Gutted. Like his body had nothing left.
Lucien looked down at him—at that soft baby face, tight with exhaustion. The sharp lashes. The trembling mouth.
He didn't think.
He leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't hard. Wasn't deep. Just a gentle press of lips—quick, scared, like the promise of something he didn't know how to say.
Arin didn't kiss back.
But he didn't pull away either.
He simply blinked—shocked. Dazed. Then let his body fall against Lucien's chest again, breath still ragged.
Lucien's face flushed. "S-sorry," he muttered. "You just looked like you needed… I don't know."
Arin didn't answer.
He simply pressed his face into Lucien's chest and let out a long, shaking breath.
Lucien's arms instinctively wrapped around him again.
---
The rest of the day passed in silence.
Lucien stayed close, never letting Arin drift too far from reach. The younger man barely moved—curled up under a blanket like a shadow. He didn't eat, didn't speak, didn't reach for his phone even once.
Lucien cooked something soft. Mild. Arin didn't protest when Lucien sat on the bed beside him and fed him spoonful after spoonful of rice and broth.
Arin didn't say thank you.
But when Lucien wiped the corner of his mouth with a thumb, Arin didn't swat his hand away.
That was enough.
---
Night came too quickly.
Lucien stood at the edge of the bed after locking the front door, watching Arin curl tighter into the sheets. His shirt had ridden up slightly, exposing a sliver of his narrow waist and soft lower back.
Lucien swallowed hard.
He walked to Arin slowly, leaned over—and slid one strong arm beneath his knees, the other behind his back.
Arin let out a soft noise of protest. "What are you—?"
"Taking you to bed," Lucien murmured, lifting him like nothing.
Arin's cheeks flushed, but he didn't resist. "I can walk."
"You've done enough today."
Lucien carried him into the back room—the small one where he slept—and laid him on the bed gently. But Arin's fingers grabbed his sleeve before he could leave.
"…Don't go."
Lucien paused.
Arin's voice was quiet. Tired. "Just stay for a bit."
Lucien climbed in slowly, his huge body barely fitting next to the smaller man. Arin tucked his face into Lucien's chest again, soft cheek pressing against his shirt.
Lucien lay frozen for a moment—then relaxed.
Arin was warm. Fragile. His breath tickled Lucien's skin.
And Lucien's body…
Reacted.
Hard.
He gritted his teeth, shifting slightly so Arin wouldn't notice—but the smaller man was too lost in his daze. His thighs brushed Lucien's waist, his soft belly pressing faintly against him through the blanket.
Lucien cursed silently. His fingers clenched the bedsheet.
Arin didn't notice. Or maybe he didn't care.
He just curled closer, murmuring something into Lucien's chest that didn't make sense. His breath slowed. His body relaxed completely against Lucien's.
And before long… he was asleep.
Lucien stared at the ceiling, heart pounding.
He was hard.
And holding a boy who didn't even realize what he was doing to him.
But Lucien didn't move.
Didn't even breathe too loud.
Because for the first time in a long time, someone needed him.
And he'd rather burn alive than ruin that.
---
Lucien falls asleep with Arin curled into his chest—hard and breathless—but holding still, because Arin needed comfort, not desire. And he'd rather suffer in silence than break that trust.
---
This is my favorite comfort chapter the way Lucien was babying arin.
Cuteeeeeeeeere!!!!!
Do you like it ?