(Xul)

When Deo woke up, aside from the pain of the burns, he distinctly felt a warm hand in his own. It was a familiar sensation.

Except... it was not quite right.

The hand in his was too delicate. The skin too soft, the fingers too long and elegant.

Deo opened his eyes and found himself staring into the soft, soundly sleeping face of the prince.The prince’s injuries weren’t that serious, there was no reason for him to be here, under the doctor’s supervision, and not be taken back to his room. And there was no reason for the prince to be reaching across the gap between their beds to hold tight to his hand.

It was not the hand he thought he was holding when his eyes were closed.

He hurriedly extricated his hand and tucked it against his chest to protect it from the touchy prince.

Only then did he realize he couldn’t remember whose hand he thought he was holding. He tried to remember what face he had expected to see and came up empty. He tried to remember what the hand in his was supposed to feel like but all he knew was that Prince Altyrion’s hand was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

The edges of Deo’s vision were turning black. He listened and heard his breaths; sharp, shallow, and quick. He splayed his hand out and felt his hollow chest, aching with unknown loss. Under his fingers and through the thin cloth of his shirt, he could feel his heart racing.

What was left of his vision blurred as tears started to fill his eyes. The hand pressed to his shirt started to shake, his too long fingernails catching on the loose threads of his shirt.

“Deo...?” a voice filtered into his mind from what felt like miles away. A solid, strong hand grabbed his shoulder and shook, “wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

But Deo was already awake, he could not leave this nightmare.

The hand pulled him onto his back and he looked up into the concerned face of one of those twin guards. He still couldn’t tell which was which. 

“Deo?” his face scrunched up and then softened, “hey. Breathe with me.” He took Deo’s hand and rubbed it, breathing in slowly and exaggeratedly, holding it for a few seconds, and then breathing out.

Deo watched the older boy’s face and tried to follow him, focusing everything on filling his lungs.

Before he could fully calm down, the panicked breaths became sobs.

“Hey, hey, shh,” he pulled Deo into an upright position, tucking him into his arms, “it’s ok, you’re ok, just breathe.”