Fallen General's Omega (BL)

The spoon in front of me wobbles slightly before rising into the air. My control is better now, but it's still a struggle. It's been years since I last used my telekinetic abilities, and I'm painfully aware of how rusty I've become. It's like relearning an old skill, clumsy and frustrating, but I push the irritation aside and focus on the small progress I'm making.

My attention drifts to Noelle. He's caught up in another battle with his sworn nemesis, and this time, Mona is in on the action too. It's a hilarious sight—Noelle, usually so composed, chasing after that wretched bird with all the fury he can muster. I can't help but chuckle at the spectacle.

"I swear, you stupid bird!" Noelle shouts, his voice filled with exasperation as he watches it fly off with a vine of grapes, disappearing into the forest canopy.

The whole scene is ridiculous, but endearing. Noelle's determination to reclaim his grapes is almost heroic in its absurdity, and I find myself smiling at how easily he can make me forget my frustrations. It's moments like these—simple, silly moments—that remind me how lucky I am to have him by my side.

My mood darkens as I watch Ben haul heavy tree branches around the garden, his strength a stark contrast to my own current weakness. Mona, full of life, darts around chasing butterflies, completely oblivious to the weight I carry. Noelle, with that stubborn determination of his, heads to the well to fetch water for the plants. I watch them all, feeling more distant and disconnected by the moment.

I glance down at my left leg, still trapped in this damn wheelchair, and a wave of despair hits me. The limb barely responds, and the fear that it might never fully heal gnaws at me, a constant ache in my chest. It doesn't hurt physically, not really, but the phantom pain lingers—reminders of the battlefield and the armed men in black who ambushed us. One of them had stabbed my leg in his dying moments, and the memory of that attack haunts me.

Noelle explained that I'd been slowly poisoned, with a lethal dose finally forced into my leg. The thought makes my blood boil. Whoever orchestrated this wanted me dead, and they wanted me to suffer. The idea that someone could harbor such hatred toward me twists my gut, and I grip the armrests of the wheelchair until my knuckles whiten, trying to suppress the rising anger.

My thoughts spiral into a suffocating darkness, dragging me down into a pit of despair. I can still feel the ghostly pain in my leg, a constant reminder of the battlefield, of the man in black who drove his blade into me with his last breath. The poison they pumped into my veins—it wasn't just to kill me, but to make me suffer. To cripple me, leave me as less than what I was. The weight of it all presses down on me, a crushing burden that I can't escape.

I'm trapped in here, useless, my body betraying me. The fear claws at my chest—what if I never walk again? What if I'm forever bound to this chair, unable to protect the people I care about? What kind of man am I if I can't even stand on my own two feet? Eventually Noelle will realize he deserves better and leave.

The darkness threatens to swallow me whole, a torrent of anger, frustration, and helplessness that I can't seem to fight off. Then, just when it feels like I'm about to be consumed, I feel a touch—a cold, gentle pressure on my cheeks, like the first cool breeze after a storm.

I blink, and the darkness recedes, chased away by the sight of Noelle's worried green eyes. His hands, cool against my heated skin, anchor me to the present. His concern is palpable, pulling me out of the mire of my thoughts as if he's physically dragging me back to the light.

"Thorne…" he whispers, his voice like a balm to my soul. The darkness that seemed so overwhelming just moments ago dissipates, as if it was never there. It's as though his touch and his voice have the power to banish the shadows that haunt me, reminding me that there's still something worth fighting for, something worth living for.

And that something is him.

"What is it, my beloved star?" I ask, forcing a smile as I turn on the charm that usually gets Noelle blushing. But this time, it doesn't work. Of course, it doesn't. Noelle sees right through me, stripping me down to my very soul with those piercing green eyes of his. He has this uncanny ability to see the truth, to see me for who I really am—a gift that both terrifies and comforts me in equal measure.

He doesn't say anything, just continues to look at me with that steady, unwavering gaze. I sigh, knowing I've lost this battle. There's no hiding from him, not when he can read me like an open book.

"I just got lost in my thoughts for a while," I admit, trying to sound casual, though I know he isn't fooled. "It's nothing to worry about." I lean into his cool palm, savoring the way it feels against my heated skin, grounding me in the present.

The darkness might still lurk at the edges of my mind, but with Noelle here, it's easier to push it back, to find some semblance of peace.