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Chapter 7 - Chapter 7: Turns out I’m a sick Victorian child

1060 days ago

Then it became worse.

Apparently, when he slept too deeply, his body did that vampire thing where his heart slowed to a crawl. Death sleep, as he liked to call it. Funny, until he woke up in the emergency room surrounded by frantic faces and a doctor mid-rant about dangerously low haemoglobin levels.

Kiolle blinked groggily at the too-bright lights overhead, the sterile chill of the hospital room already gnawing at his nerves. The smell of antiseptic. The slow beep of the heart monitor. The IV drip snaking into his arm. He was in the ER… AGAIN.

"You gave us quite a scare," the nurse said as she adjusted the bed, thinking he was just another frail, tragic patient. "You woke up, then fainted again. Your blood pressure dropped dangerously low. You weren't breathing for nearly a minute."

He had just fallen asleep after getting tired of the calling; he wasn't even fully awake, for god's sake. That was all there was it. But his kind, or maybe it was just him didn't breathe when they slept. Not unless they wanted to. Breathing had always been a choice.

The hospital had apparently ran a whole batch of tests. Blood work. Skin biopsy. Light exposure scans. Urine and neurological assessments. And somehow someway, in a cosmic joke, the tests came back... positive. 

Diagnosis: Erythropoietic Protoporphyria (a type of porphyria)

Secondary: Severe Hemolytic Anemia

 

The doctor looked down at him over a clipboard, cautious but gentle. "We believe your sensitivity to sunlight and your fainting spells may be linked to these two conditions. It's rare, but not unheard of. You'll need close monitoring."

Kiolle blinked again, this time slower. Porphyria? What was that? And a quick Google search made him smile. Were there other poor, unfortunate, and misunderstood souls like him who ended up in the hospital for the same reason? Contrary to popular belief, vampires did not burn under the sun but had something akin to an extreme form of albinism, leading to light sensitivity. While it may get better over the years. It was still a bitch.

He could hardly suppress the laugh. If only they knew. Porphyria was one of the few rare human conditions often confused for vampirism. Pale skin, extreme photosensitivity, liver issues, fatigue, sun blisters... it explained everything.

Gave him a cover to always be visiting the hospital. And now? Feasts awaited him. His mouth even watered at the thought of his favourite O- blood waiting and calling for him. It was perfect.

"We'll need to keep you admitted for at least two weeks to stabilise your levels. Sunlight exposure must be limited in the meantime. You'll also need iron supplements, and we'll monitor your heart to avoid another collapse."

He nodded weakly, pretending to be overwhelmed and shocked of the sudden diagnosis, exactly what they expected of him. Inside, his mind was racing.

He'd just been handed the perfect excuse to stay weak, avoid sunlight, skip dance practice, avoid Loran and Corin's looming shadows, and stay out of anything strenuous, without suspicion. That's just how his lazy soul liked it.

And the bonus? The blood bank was just one hallway away. Even another upside! The iron pills they prescribed actually helped. Not in the way humans intended, but the trace nutrients in them gave his body enough strength, kind of like an energy drink. He was still hungry, but not desperate. Still tired, but not starving. Best hospital stay ever!

Still…That blood. On Eldrin. Why was it always there? Was Eldrin getting into fights? Injured? Or… Something else?

On the other hand…

The room smelled of wilted flowers and too clean floors. Kiolle was propped up on crisp white pillows, hooked to another round of IV drips and pretending to be asleep when the door creaked open. 

They came in one by one, seemingly each had their own assigned day to visit, so as not to overwhelm him. He was a bit disappointed that Eldrin hadn't visited first, but he was still happy Briar had come; it lifted his bored mood instantly.

The first one was always Briar. His worry was the kind that buzzed in his chest like bees. He plopped into the visitor's chair and took Kiolle's hand without permission.

"Hey... why didn't you tell us you were sick?" His voice cracked near the end. "Porphyria? Anaemia? That's serious. Do you know how worried we were when you couldn't wake up?"

Kiolle cracked one eye open. Playing sad and sorry. "I…I'm sorry, didn't want to be a burden."

Briar sniffled. "You're already important, idiot. You don't need to pretend to be strong."

Corin arrived next. Fresh cologne, a luxury coat slung over his shoulder, and that unbothered model-walk saunter. He barely glanced at the IV. Just smirked.

"So that's what this was about?" he said, sounding more amused than concerned. "No wonder you always looked like you'd drop dead in the dance studio."

Kiolle gave him a vague, tired cheeky smile. "Are you here to mock me or care?"

Corin leaned in. Whispered near his cheek. "I care. I just don't show it the way Briar does." Then, with a wink, he added, "And don't use this to get out of dance practice forever. Loran might start crying."

And of course, Loran came the next day. Guiltless. Hungry-eyed. Arms crossed. He stared at Kiolle for a moment before speaking. "You should've told us. Porphyria's serious, I had to look it up. You could die from sunlight exposure."

There was tension in his tone, like he hated not knowing this first. "I didn't think it was a big deal," Kiolle mumbled, feigning helplessness. "Besides, would you believe someone who says the sun makes you sick?"

Loran looked down, frustrated. Maybe even a bit... hurt. "I'll move your bed closer to the blackout curtains when you're back. Don't argue." His version of affection. Possessive, brusque.

Deon showed up at the door and didn't come in. Just stared at the person in the hospital bed like he was some strange, pathetic animal. "I thought you were faking it."

Kiolle blinked. He had always liked Deon's interesting personality. He tried so hard to show that he cared but outrightly denied any involvement.

Deon crossed his arms, still standing in the doorway. "I said what I said. You act so fragile sometimes. But now... I get it, I guess." That was his version of an apology. He sat there for a while, only reading a book, never glancing at him.

Kiolle liked the silence, no pity or self-blame, just calm, that's why he appreciated him even more. Deon then dropped a bag of chocolates at the foot of the bed and left before Kiolle could thank him.

Last, long after the others had left, Eldrin came. He didn't speak right away. Just sat beside the bed and stared at Kiolle with quiet, unreadable intensity.

"Do you want to quit?"

The question startled Kiolle. "What?"

"If this—" he gestured vaguely at the tubes, "—makes it too much. You can quit. I won't stop you. Your health comes first."

Kiolle stared at him, struck by the calm way Eldrin said it. He stared at Kiolle with blatant honestly which warmed Kiolle's heart. "I'm not quitting."

Eldrin looked at him for a long moment. Then nodded. "Then we protect your weakness... and weaponise it." A pause. Then, a faint smile. "Let them underestimate you."

And just like that, Kiolle paused, then recoiled back in shock and confusion. Did he mean to his members like how he planned or with the fans? He was being driven mad with curiosity and unanswered questions. He tilted his head in confusion making Eldrin backtrack.

"The fans, the fans will love you even more if you use this" He answered as if clarifying something.

At that moment, he felt like someone doused him with a bucket of cold water. The disappointment he felt was unmatched. He had previously thought; maybe he knows I'm not some fragile gently thing and wants me to be meaner but instead its for fame! Urgh!

 He must have gone quiet for too long, because Eldrin tilted his head slightly. "Not what you expected?"

Kiolle didn't answer right away still thoroughly annoyed and disappointed. "I thought maybe… you meant something else."

"Like what?"

Kiolle shrugged. "I don't know. Something more…" He trailed off. The words felt stupid in his mouth. He looked away.

Eldrin gave a low breath, almost amused. "You're hard to pin down sometimes."

That made Kiolle snap his gaze back. "Me?"

"You act like you want people to see through you," Eldrin said. "But when they do, you step back."

Kiolle's stomach twisted. That... what was that even supposed to mean? Who saw through him? Did he? Was that a threat? A warning? Or just another Eldrin quirk... vague, quiet, impossible to challenge? He didn't reply. He couldn't.

"You don't have to explain yourself," Eldrin said, voice unreadable. "Just... don't expect everyone to misunderstand you forever."

That line felt like it should mean something. Like a riddle. Kiolle looked back down at his hands. "I'm not quitting," he said again, stubbornly. "Even if people think I'm weak."

"They already do," Eldrin replied, not unkindly. "That's not always a bad thing."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Kiolle turned it over in his head, trying to decipher it. "You mean I should let them?" he asked slowly.

"You can do whatever you want," Eldrin said with that same slight smile, the kind that gave nothing away. "But people underestimate easier than they admit. If it gives you space to breathe… take it."

There was something behind those words. Kiolle felt it. He just didn't know what. He tried to ask—tried to follow up—but all he could get out was, "I don't know what you're trying to say."

Eldrin moved toward the door. "That's alright," he said. "You will. Eventually." He then gave him a forehead kiss that made him freeze "Hope you get well soon, I miss having you around at home and in the studio"

Kiolle felt a faint blush at that statement. The monitoring machines blared in warning. "We all do" he continued after a very ambiguous pause. Damn it this bastard! Always making his poor heart beat faster. Then he left.

And Kiolle just lay there, pulse suddenly a little faster despite the sedatives, with no clue whether Eldrin had just tried to warn him, guide him… or play him.

 

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