CHAPTER 76: YOU CUT YOUR HAIR.

Like a cat curling up even tighter into a corner on an ice-cold day, Le An stirred for a moment with closed eyes in Taras’s arms. And Taras, as if each little movement interrupted his thoughts, drew Le An closer to himself every time.

After a while, Le An’s body rested on top of Taras’s, and as they shared body heat, Le An’s legs gradually relaxed and finally stretched downward.

"Why are you like this, Treasure?"

"Breathe..."

"Treasure, wake up."

Le An couldn’t answer Taras’s questions for a while. Only irrelevant words or murmurs that couldn’t be understood from between his lips came out. It was as if all he wanted was to doze off like this, pressed against him.

Taras soon felt that, like their body heat, their heartbeats had started to synchronize over time. Le An’s heart returned from an unusually slow rhythm to normal, while Taras’s, which had been pounding and tight, gradually settled back to normal.

Finally, Taras saw Le An’s eyelashes flutter open; Treasure was slowly coming back to himself. After a bit of cuddling and being patted with each movement. Taras took a deep breath, and Le An’s head rose and fell in the same rhythm.

At first, his own fingers came into view, and with the feeling that his eyes were painted entirely red, Le An tightly shut them again and murmured, "It’s nothing." Three times in a row.

Taras realized that Le An still thought he was... alone.

The hand supporting his neck stiffened, as if making his presence known might startle Le An into panic. Treasure was still alone in his mind, consoling himself, seemingly for something that had made him sick enough to be in this state.

Why hadn’t he pressed one of the buttons to ask for help? Had this happened suddenly while he was asleep?

Taras frowned at the absence of the long strands of hair from the head now resting in his palm. He had asked why Treasure had cut his hair when he first arrived, wanting, in some way, to vent a little of his anger for cutting it—perhaps by pressing him, but without scaring him too much.

The image of Le An at the moment his nose bled from fear still lingered in his mind, like a warning. Even as he came here, he found himself reminding himself of a few things:

Don’t make sudden movements. Don’t scare him. Don’t talk too... harsh.

As Le An let out a small breath, like a child after crying, Taras refocused, noticing the ear visible under the short bangs that barely covered it. Unconsciously, he let his fingers brush over that ear as he moved them on Le An’s head. Le An flinched at the sudden touch.

Damn it.

As his eyes opened wider, Le An still raised his head in a dazed manner, looking upward. Their eyes finally met.

"...Taras?"

The mark left from pressing his cheek against Taras’s rough leather top was still there after so long. His hair was messy from Taras’s palm, and his face was still pale. Taras remained silent—or rather, it was as if all his caution had tied his tongue in a shackle, and he didn’t know what to say to the confused eyes looking at him.

"You..."

As Le An stirred a bit more, realizing that his body was on top of Taras, he stopped moving. Raising the hand resting on Taras’s chest and bringing his fingertips near his face, he seemed to still think he was alone.

And there, in Taras’s arms, Taras felt uneasy, as if his presence alone wasn’t enough to calm him. Yet he couldn’t move.

"You’re here..." Le An swallowed and tentatively touched Taras’s face with his fingers, tilting his head. "Is it... real?"

"I’m here." Taras finally answered, a few words escaping his lips, without moving at all. Le An looked at his lips, then his eyes. Why did Treasure look at him as if unsure someone else could take over his body?

Taras let out a short breath, a small part of the discomfort inside him escaping as he tilted his head and pressed it fully against Le An’s fingers.

"Of course it’s real. What’s wrong with you?"

Le An looked at his lips again. Then he straightened slightly, unconsciously sliding one leg between Taras’s legs, leaning forward to look at his body, and placed his other hand on Taras’s abdomen.

Taras, as Le An pressed his warm palm against his stomach, only watched Le An with furrowed brows.

"Are you hurt?" Le An asked.

"...No."

Le An blinked at his face again, then glanced at his abdomen to be sure, and nodded gently. Ha... The one who actually looked hurt, even to the point of making Taras doubt, was himself, who smelled like blood.

"Why would I be hurt?" Taras asked, letting his hand slide along the back he was holding to prevent Le An from falling. "...Did you have a dream?"

As Le An’s sense of reality slowly returned, he asked back, uncertain. "A nightmare? I-I don’t know..."

Taras felt a pang in his stomach as the fingers holding Le An tensed. Had he asked if it was a nightmare? Even if his mind was confused...

"You’re not hurt, then? Your stomach..." Le An asked again. Taras shook his head slowly. Le An glanced at him, received the answer, and murmured, satisfied, as if returning to his own world.

"Good. Don’t get hurt. If your clothes are thin... like that night..."

Le An fell silent, as if he had lost his thoughts. Taras felt a cramp in his stomach as if stabbed. Confused or not, Treasure didn’t want to get hurt. Like that night, in his stomach.

And when he spoke of that night as if it were yesterday, his jumbled mind defined what he had seen as a nightmare of him being hurt.

Taras parted his lips slightly, feeling the flow, warmth, and tension from Le An’s body on top of him, felt as if he needed to defend himself from it.

"...Treasure."

Le An didn’t even hear him. He seemed so stubborn in waking at his own pace that he still needed time to believe the nightmare was over.

What had happened last? Le An furrowed his brows, feeling a slow warmth spreading into his body as he looked toward the window. The noises had stopped. Last... a branch trapped under a huge block, a letter, a pen, a flower petal, the bathroom...

As Le An blinked rapidly, Taras’s voice snapped him back into reality, and he turned toward him.

"Enough. Look at me."

Taras held Le An tightly on top of him, tightly holding his body with his hands. He sighed, while watching Le An couldn’t move as he looked at him.

Taras slid one hand into Le An’s shirt and began to stroke his back slowly. He felt the urge to touch Treasure somehow.

"Tell me, are you conscious?"

"...Huh?" Le An’s eyes finally regained their old gaze. Compared to the dazed, unguarded look earlier, Taras now saw caution, sadness, and... sorrow in them.

"Y-yes... yes?" Le An murmured in surprise, his body spreading like it had melted. "Yes. S-sorry. I’m fine. You..."

As Le An’s heartbeat returned to the chaotic rhythm it had been in before seeing him, Taras briefly closed his eyes, feeling a pang in his heart.

"You cut your hair."

"Ah..."

Le An still hadn’t fully adjusted to the fact that he was lying on top of Taras. He brought his hands to his hair, his lips moving between expressions of sadness and childish embarrassment. "Yes."

"Why?"

Taras’s voice sounded like that of an adult trying not to scold a child. Le An, hand in his hair, looked away and murmured. "I... I didn’t want to."

As if he had only a short time to explain, he added hurriedly, "When my hair grew long... I looked too much like... an omega. That’s why they.. " He shook his head and gave a small, strange smile.

His hand left his hair, and he glanced at Taras a few times, trying to gauge what he thought of his hair.

Taras gave him a strange but certainly not positive look, leaving Le An unsure of what to say.

Then, as he lowered his head, slightly pouting, Taras’s other hand gently cupped his cheek and laid him against his chest. He wanted to... comfort Treasure in some way. He wanted to say something.

So they had cut his hair without Treasure’s consent. Veins stood out in Taras’s arms, and he was almost certain it was Mr. Qui’s doing.

"Let it grow again. When everyone finds out you’re an omega."

Feeling Taras’s voice vibrate against his chest, Le An nodded slightly. "Mm."

As Taras looked at Le An’s cheeks, still red and warm, he took a deep breath. There was nothing wrong now.

"Why did you take off your watch? Earlier, in your sleep, your heart was..."

Taras paused mid-sentence, that uneasy feeling rising again, then continued. "...It was beating so slowly that if it stopped, no one would notice."

"..."

Le An shifted uncomfortably, considering that possibility. Taras’s arms tightened around him. If he hadn’t come? If he hadn’t woken Treasure?

"Did you take it off because you were going to guide me or something?"

Le An nodded, unable to find better words.

"Foolish..." Taras exhaled the word with tension, and Le An did the same.

"I-I..."

Le An tried to move, attempting to lift himself off Taras without pressing his elbows against his chest. But now, with their hips pressed even closer together, his face grew redder, and his lips pursed involuntarily.

Moreover, Taras didn’t even move the hand on his back as if to stop him. Le An, unsure of what to say, looked as if he wanted to protest, and Taras stared him down, speaking first.

"Don’t ask me if I’m real again."

Le An shook his head. "No," he said. "I’m sorry."

"Ha..."

Taras felt even more troubled inside, sensing that something in Le An had changed beyond his control. Now guessing what went through his head was even harder.

He cupped Le An’s face again, letting his fingers slowly brush along his neck. "What’s wrong? Tell me."

His tone carried a demand. Nevertheless, Le An felt a rush of blood to his hips, trying to lift his waist, unsure of what to do. This time, Taras pressed him down more clearly from his back. "Don’t move."

"Hng..."

Le An buried his face against Taras’s chest, embarrassed by the sound he had made, letting out a shaky breath as he stubbornly tried to pull back his hips. A murmur of complaint escaped his lips finally.

"Why... are you doing this to me?"

"What am I doing?" Taras asked, trying to grasp his hidden face again.