He didn't move, though. Le An realized he'd have to do it himself. He reached out, hesitating, his fingers brushing the zipper of Taras's dungeon suit. It slipped under his sweaty fingertips once, twice, making him huff in frustration before he finally managed to pull it down.
The wound on Taras's abdomen was still red, stitched all the way through. Three long slashes crossed his skin, scabbed but angry-looking. Le An's fingers hovered over them, trembling.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice small.
"No." Taras wasn't even looking at the wound, his eyes were on Le An's face. "And I don't need guiding from you now." The energy he'd taken that night was more than enough.
Le An nodded, dazed and relieved all at once. "Thank you," he whispered. A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips. "If you needed it, or asked for it… it would be hard for me."
Taras watched him for a moment longer. "Why? You could take suppressants and feel better than this."
What are you trying to show me by being this defenseless?
Le An dropped his gaze, his voice growing distant. "I'm not allowed to take suppressants." Then, as if a new thought popped into his head, he perked up. "Oh! Was this from a Shugoren attack? Did a Shugoren do this?"
Part of Taras's mind was still stuck on his last answer, but he nodded anyway. As he did, Le An pulled his hand back, the warmth of his fingers disappearing from Taras's skin.
Then, without a second thought, Le An tugged his robe off one shoulder and turned to show him a spot on his back. Just below his right shoulder blade, three old, pale slash marks were faintly visible. "I was attacked by a Shugoren too! See? Three slashes from its paws. Not as deep as yours, though. I didn't even need stitches. I was lucky."
He tried to crane his neck to see them himself but failed, so he just stayed still, letting Taras look. Taras's eyes followed the pale scars, marks that didn't seem like they belonged on a body like his. Three slashes, just like he'd said. From that last dungeon mission. Taras realized Le An hadn't even remembered telling him about it before.
Too close, he thought, suddenly, as Le An's pheromones hit him once again. Taras didn't need to feel the wound to know it was real. "Shugorens are dangerous," he murmured.
Le An nodded, letting the robe slip back over his shoulder. He lay back down when he saw Taras lean back. His eyes glistened with tears that refused to fall, his whole body shivering again as he scooted closer inch by inch. Small, helpless, childish, he reached out and grabbed Taras's hand.
"Y-you were holding my wrist earlier." His voice was so fragile.
Taras looked at him, tension flickering in his eyes for a second, then he let it fade.
The treasure was daring tonight, that much was clear. But harming someone who was already stripped of strength, trembling, and in heat, that wasn't something he'd ever stoop to.
Act or not, he didn't need to say it out loud. There was nothing this fragile thing could do to him anyway.
As if Taras would let go, Le An tried to pull back, but instead the grip tightened. Le An's eyelids fluttered, heavy with heat, but he didn't pull away. He only leaned closer.
"…Is it okay if I stay like this?" Le An whispered, his voice so faint it was nearly lost in the quiet.
Taras slowly lifted a hand, taking hold of his chin and tilting it up with practiced ease. Long fingers pressed lightly into Le An's cheeks, a silent warning of the approaching storm behind his eyes. His voice was low, almost calm, yet carried a sharp edge.
"Where did you find the courage to act like this in front of me?"
Le An froze, breath caught in his throat. Taras pressed on, the question a blade against fragile skin. "I'll ask you again. Why did you leave the door open?"
Tiny tears gathered in the corners of Le An's eyes as he swallowed hard.
"If… if you'd come and couldn't get inside… you'd have been even angrier. And… I knew you wouldn't do s-something like that to me."
"Something like what?" Taras asked, his grip still firm. "Hm?"
"Don't I look pathetic to you?" Le An finally whispered, staring blankly. "I know you'd rather hurt me in every other way but this one." He glanced down at his own body, voice barely a breath. "And… I keep hoping you're not that terrible of a person. Just… what else can I do?"
Taras's fingers slipped away from his chin then, slow and deliberate. It was true, he wouldn't go that far. Not because his hatred wasn't deep enough, but because he simply wasn't that kind of man. He looked down at Le An's hand, now deliberately distanced from him. Don't I look pathetic to you, he said.
Why did I ask out loud instead of just ignoring it all? Just why…
And in that moment, Taras reached out again. His fingers slipped under Le An's chin, tilting his face up as if to make sure, to see it all for himself. He let his thumb tap lightly against Le An's cheek, once, twice, as if testing how real that softness was.
On this face, Taras thought, eyes narrowing on those downcast lashes that made him feel furious every single time, this face could never hate anyone.
He blinked, the reasoning falling into place all at once. The treasure has no plans. No schemes. He saved my life on pure impulse. With no goal behind it. Because he has no plan.
It's only fear and acceptance.
Le An's voice interrupted that thought, trembling and painfully honest. "If you're not here for guiding… then why are you here?"