Helios jolted awake with a bone-chilling scream.
His heart was racing, his breath coming in ragged gasps. For a moment, he had no idea where he was.
He was sitting upright in bed, his skin slick with sweat. With trembling hands, he lifted his shirt, running his fingers over his chest and stomach. His skin was smooth and uninjured, except for the old scars — just as it always had been.
He blinked.
Only then did he realize he could move. He wasn't restrained. He wasn't lying on a cold metal table, but in a warm bed. He was clean, dressed, and not freezing — though he was still trembling.
As he fought to steady his racing thoughts, he looked around.
He was in his room. No longer in that treatment chamber. The glaring surgical lamp was gone; in its place was his ceiling light, casting a soft glow over the room.
Slowly, the panic ebbed away, leaving behind a dull tremor that came from deep within. He forced his shoulders to relax, took a deep breath.
He was safe.
No one would hurt him again.
He brushed the sweat-soaked hair from his face and closed his eyes. He was fine — it had only been a nightmare. Dr. Brooks no longer had power over him, and his father was dead.
"Lio?!" Dante's voice cut through the silence.
A heartbeat later, the bathroom door opened, and Dante stepped out — barefoot, a towel slung low around his hips, steam still clinging to his skin. His gaze immediately found Helios. "Are you okay?"
"Dante…" Helios managed, his voice hoarse from screaming.
For a brief moment, pure concern flashed in Dante's eyes before he hurried to him. Without hesitation, he climbed onto the bed, wrapped his arms around Helios, and pulled him close. Helios felt the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest — so calming, so alive.
"How do you feel?" Dante asked softly.
"Tired," Helios whispered back. He inhaled Dante's scent, closed his eyes, and rested his face against his shoulder. His stomach rumbled. "Maybe a little hungry, too."
Dante smiled — relieved, almost tenderly. "Thomas will make you something right away. Do you want to go down to the dining hall, or eat here?"
Helios shook his head, still leaning against him. "Not yet… don't go."
He climbed into Dante's lap, pressing closer into his embrace, refusing to let go. After everything that had happened, this — this closeness — was exactly what he needed.
Aside from a small meal, perhaps. But the hunger for food was nothing compared to the hunger for warmth and touch.
Dante placed a hand on the back of his neck and gently stroked his skin. "As long as you want," he whispered.
"How long was I asleep?"
"About two days," Dante replied softly. "You were completely exhausted."
Helios let out a quiet sigh. "Feels like I could sleep for another week."
"You can take all the time you need."
Helios nodded, though he didn't quite believe it. All the time he needed — it was a comforting thought, but not a realistic one. The weight of his responsibilities couldn't be postponed forever. Too many things awaited his decisions, too many questions demanded answers.
Still, the restlessness wouldn't leave him. No matter how much he wanted to ignore everything happening around him, curiosity won out.
"Has anything happened in the meantime?"
Dante hesitated briefly, then nodded. "A bit, actually. Thomas staged an incident outside the facility — your father was found dead. The funeral will take place as soon as you give the approval."
Helios exhaled slowly. So he had truly killed his father — the man really was dead. That was good news; at least he hadn't imagined it.
"So the facility is still secret?"
"It is," Dante confirmed. "Though no more experiments are being conducted on the subjects. The remaining guards and researchers are under arrest for now. We couldn't just let them go while you were still asleep."
Helios buried his face in the crook of Dante's neck. "I should take care of that as soon as possible," he murmured. He closed his eyes — only to snap them open again a moment later. He cursed under his breath. "Damn it."
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look Dante in the eye.
"And my mother? Is she still down there?"
Dante nodded. "We decided to keep her there until you're ready. She didn't look like she'd stay preserved for long outside the tank."
Helios pressed his face against Dante's neck again. "Thank you…"
He breathed in his lover's scent. The trembling was slowly subsiding.
"How long was I down there?" he whispered.
"Three days," Dante answered quietly. "I searched for you everywhere, but every trail led to nothing. Without Thomas, I probably wouldn't have found you until much later."
Helios lifted his head slightly. "Thomas helped you?"
"Yes," Dante said with a faint smile. "He was worried about you, but he couldn't get you out on his own."
"And how did you even get in there?"
Dante rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sound. "Long story. I snuck into the car with Spider in the middle of the night and secretly followed your father." He snorted softly and crossed his arms. "I spent half the night lying in the trunk with Spider. The guy was way too close for comfort."
The image was too ridiculous to stay serious. Helios couldn't help but laugh. The thought of Dante and Spider — both well over six feet tall — crammed together in a tiny trunk was simply absurd.
"Don't laugh at me! You know exactly how annoying Spider is," Dante complained, but Helios could hear the smile in his voice.
"Maybe I'm just glad he wasn't clinging to me for once," Helios replied with a grin.
Then he sighed and nestled closer against Dante. This felt right. Normal. Here, by Dante's side, there was no fear. He didn't have to pretend, or act braver than he was. He could just lie in his arms and take what he needed: warmth, closeness, and the affection of the man he loved.
"I missed you," he said softly. "I kept thinking about you, waiting for you to come and save me."
"I'm so sorry it took so long," Dante said, guilt in his tone. "They were hunting me, and there wasn't a single lead on where you were. Even Spider couldn't track you down, and—"
"Hey." Helios interrupted gently, placing two fingers against Dante's lips. "Don't blame yourself. They wouldn't have broken me that easily."
Dante fell silent. Instead of replying, he simply held him tighter, as if he could protect him — even from the memories. Helios could almost hear his thoughts turning. He hadn't told Dante yet what had really happened down there. But even if he didn't want to, Dante deserved to know.
"Do you want to know what happened down there?" Helios' voice was barely a whisper.
Dante nodded. "Only if you want to talk about it."
Helios exhaled shakily. "The sooner I say it out loud, the sooner I might be able to forget it… right?"
For a moment, he gathered his thoughts before telling Dante everything. He told him about the torment he had endured — how they had kept him awake, not giving him a single moment of rest. He told Dante how it had felt to be under the anesthesia, how maddening it had been to be unable to move a single muscle.
He described the nausea that had plagued him, how the overdose of the anesthetic had nearly broken him.
Helios faltered when he spoke of his mother — how shocked he had been to see her in that state, how his father had begged him to bring her back, even though the stench of decay lingered beneath the heavy scent of lilies.
Helios's hands trembled as he spoke. When he reached the part where Dr. Brooks had cut him open while he was still fully conscious, Dante fell silent. Not a sound, not even a breath. Helios spoke with a terrifying calm — as if he were describing something that had happened to someone else: detached, analytical, almost cold. Only when he described how Brooks had cut the heart from his chest did Dante pull him close and whisper, "Enough, Helios…it's okay. You're not there anymore. He can't hurt you now."
Only then did Helios realize he was crying. The tears streamed silently down his cheeks — hot, bitter, unstoppable.
"I'm just so glad you are here with me now. Seriously...if you hadn't kill him already I would do it now," Dante said at last, his voice trembling with suppressed anger and compassion.
Helios shook his head slightly. "Only because you came for me," he murmured. He pulled back just far enough to look Dante in the eyes. "Thank you for not giving up on me."
Before Dante could respond, Helios pressed his lips to his. He needed that closeness — that raw, physical connection — more than anything else in that moment.
Helios wanted more.
He needed more.
And Dante held him — tightly, as if he knew that otherwise, Helios might shatter all over again.
Only when Helios's stomach growled loudly did Dante slowly pull away. His hands traced gently along Helios's neck until they rested in his hair. Tenderly, he brushed a damp strand from Helios's forehead and pressed a soft kiss to his skin.
"How about you eat something first, before we continue here?" His voice was full of warmth. "You haven't eaten in almost a week."
As if on cue, Helios's stomach growled again — painfully this time. He instinctively pressed a hand to his abdomen, a strained groan escaping his lips as he cursed his body for needing food to function. It would have been so much easier if his cellular regeneration could simply compensate for the lack of nutrients.
But, unfortunately, it seemed to work just the same as with exhaustion and pain.
Helios nodded, a little reluctantly. The mood had been good — if only the hunger hadn't ruined it.
"After we eat," he murmured against Dante's lips, "I want to pick up right here again." Then he kissed him once more.
Dante smiled. "Nothing I'd like more."
Helios smiled back.
Just a little longer, he thought, I want to hold on to the illusion that I don't have to do anything — that I can just rest for a while.
Reluctantly, Helios pulled away from Dante and stood up. The world tilted slightly around him, and it took a few moments before the dizziness passed and he felt steady on his feet again.
Dante caught him, holding him firmly to keep him from collapsing.
"You okay?" Dante asked, his voice full of concern. He pressed a soft kiss to Helios's neck, sending an instant shiver down his spine.
If it weren't for that damned hunger, Helios knew exactly what he'd rather be doing right now.
"I'm fine," Helios said. He glanced around, but without his glasses, he couldn't make out much.
"You wouldn't happen to—" he began.
At that very moment, Dante handed him his glasses.
"Thanks," Helios said with a smile.
"You're blind as a mole without them," Dante teased.
"Probably," Helios admitted.
He stretched his tired limbs and let out a long yawn. He was still exhausted, but compared to two days ago, he felt much more awake.
He decided he would definitely allow himself another two or three days here — just him and Dante, in the safety of his room.
___
The clock struck 4PM as he left his room together with Dante. It felt different to walk through the halls of the estate — and yet, in a strange way, it was just as it had always been.
The guards still stood in the exact same positions as before. The staff greeted him with the same respectful demeanor, though their glances were tinged with uncertainty or quiet curiosity. It didn't really surprise Helios — after all, nearly everyone here knew what his father had done to him.
Still, though they looked at him with curiosity, no one dared to speak to him.
They all seemed to be waiting — waiting to see what he, as the new head of the household, would decide.
That, too, was something he would have to deal with. The staff would need direction — they deserved to know what would happen next. He couldn't simply let them go, anyway; they knew too much about him and about what had taken place within the estate.
Later.
He turned purposefully toward the kitchen. From there came the familiar clinking of dishes and the rhythmic hiss of the coffee machine — a comforting sound that, for a moment, promised a sense of normalcy.
There were a few places where Thomas could usually be found during the day. Maybe he'd be lucky and the old butler would still be in the kitchen.
Helios peered inside, and sure enough, the old man was there, preparing coffee. It was such a familiar sight that Helios's eyes stung instantly. How could he ever have believed that Thomas hadn't cared about him — that he had only been loyal to his father?
The old man had defied his father to help him escape.
Without Thomas, he would still be lying there, trembling on that cold metal table, living in constant fear of what Dr. Brooks might do to him next.
His throat tightened. No words would come out.
He refused to cry again, yet the lump in his throat only grew larger.
Thomas had been more of a father to him than his real one had ever been in these past years. Blood didn't matter — Thomas was his real father. He had taught him everything he needed to know: how to hold his cutlery properly, how to behave with politeness, and how to recognize the hidden intentions of others.
Thomas had taught him how to dance, to ride, even to drive — though the latter had usually ended in chaos, the old butler had at least given him the basics.
"Thomas…" Helios said softly.
The old butler set down what he was holding and turned toward him. He hadn't even fully faced Helios before Helios had already thrown his arms around him.
"Thank you…" Helios whispered, burying his face in the crook of the old man's neck.
It had been years since he had last hugged him — and yet, it felt so familiar, as if no time had passed at all. Thomas's body trembled slightly, and his arms wrapped tightly around Helios, holding him just like he used to when Helios was a child waking from a nightmare.
"Are you feeling a little better, my boy?" the old man asked, his voice unsteady.
Helios nodded.
"A little," he finally managed. "Thanks to you… to both of you."
Why did it feel so warm when Thomas called him my boy? When his father had said those same words, all he had ever felt was disgust.
Thomas's shoulders trembled, and a quiet sob escaped him.
"I'm so sorry you had to endure that for so long. If I'd known what he was doing to you, I would have intervened sooner…" His voice broke, and remorse was written all over his face.
Helios placed a hand on his arm, holding it firmly. "You couldn't have known. He'd completely lost his mind," Helios said gently, trying to calm him. "It's over now."
For a while, they just stood there. Helios didn't care who might be watching them. Tears ran silently down both their faces. Even if he had wanted to, Helios couldn't have pulled away from Thomas — not when the old man was this emotional.
At least he used the moment as an excuse to give himself a little space to breathe, to let some of the emotions inside him surface.
"Thomas?" Helios asked after a while, his voice rough. "Will you stay with me… even though Father is gone?"
…and I'm the one who killed him?
"You wouldn't survive a single morning without my coffee. How could I possibly leave you?" the old man said with a soft chuckle, wiping the tears from his face.
Helios couldn't help but laugh as well.
"Without your coffee I wouldn't last a day — those three days without a cup of your dark gold were pure torture."
Thomas stepped back, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief before blowing his nose discreetly. Then he gave Helios a warm smile.
"As it happens, I was just about to make some coffee. Would you like a cup, my boy?"
I'd kill for a cup of your coffee.
"With pleasure," Helios smiled. "Dante will probably want one too."
"Gladly," Dante replied.
They sat down at the kitchen table. Helios's stomach growled loudly — a painful reminder of the week he'd spent without food. Thomas placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of him, along with some bread, and slid a fragrant cup of coffee toward his hand. Helios took a spoonful, blew gently, tasted — and the warmth of the soup spread through him like a small ray of sunlight.
They talked for a while about ordinary things — nothing important.
Helios was grateful that the conversation didn't touch on the time he'd spent imprisoned, but instead stayed on everyday topics. It distracted him, let him enjoy his meal in peace and the company of the two people he loved most in the world.
It felt so normal, so free — a feeling he hadn't known in what felt like forever.
Maybe, for the first time in his life, he truly felt at home.
Without the fear of his father appearing behind him at any moment, he eventually reached under the table and took Dante's hand in his own.
He didn't want to hide anymore.
He didn't have to hide anymore.
The important matters he should have been dealing with still lingered in the background, scratching at his conscience.
But after everything he had gone through over the past week, he allowed himself this moment of ignorance.
At some point, Helios sighed. He was happy. The horror of the previous week still lived in every cell of his body, ready to overwhelm him with fear at any moment — but with Dante by his side, he knew he could handle it. Time would heal the rest, even if the nightmares of that metal table would haunt him for a long while yet.
Under the table, Dante gently caressed the back of his hand. The warmth of his large hand gave Helios a deep sense of security — the certainty that he would never again have to face anything alone.
He knew Dante would always stay with him, as long as Helios kept to certain boundaries.
Perhaps Helios would never be able to live entirely without the deaths of others — death was as much a part of his life as breathing.
But for Dante's sake, he was willing to give up a few things. After all, it mattered to him that this loyal, warmhearted giant of a man stayed by his side.
Together, they could accomplish so much in the future — at least for as long as their shared eternity would last.
Relaxed, Helios leaned against his lover, his gaze meeting Thomas's — who looked far less surprised than Helios had expected.
"You don't look surprised," Helios remarked.
Thomas cleared his throat.
"Let's just say my suspicion has been confirmed," he said with his characteristically kind smile, taking a careful sip of freshly brewed coffee. "Besides, you shouldn't forget who makes your bed every day."
Beside him, Dante suddenly choked on his drink. He coughed violently, his ears turning bright red. He looked as though he wished the ground would swallow him whole. The sight made Helios burst out laughing. He patted Dante's back to help him catch his breath, but his laughter wouldn't stop.
All of Dante's usual confidence — the confidence he showed when they were alone — had completely vanished. In that moment, he was just like he'd been when he had first entered Helios's service, back when Helios used to tease him for his shyness.
"I–I… well… I'm sorry…" Dante stammered, still flustered and coughing.
Helios placed a finger against his lips to stop him from saying another word.
"Shhh, the cat's already out of the bag," he grinned.
Dante pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for a moment. "I think I need another cup of coffee," he muttered under his breath.
Helios couldn't help but giggle. He took another sip of his own coffee before turning back to Dante. With a gentle motion, he hooked his arm through Dante's and rested his head on his shoulder.
"You're cute when you blush," he whispered into his ear.
Dante cleared his throat, still embarrassed, but didn't say anything more. His hand found Helios's again and held it tightly.
Helios lifted his gaze, meeting Thomas's eyes — and found no trace of disapproval there. Only pride. And perhaps a touch of relief.
"He's a good man.", Thomas said.
For a moment, Helios felt something inside his chest loosen. He had been afraid Thomas would judge him. Instead, the old butler looked at him the way a father would look at a son who had finally found his path.
"I'll continue running the company. The Vale family will live on through me — and thanks to my immortality, for a very long time. But I won't be bringing any heirs into the world. It's enough for me to have my big, strong mountain of a man at my side," Helios declared with a teasing grin.
Dante coughed again, which only made Helios chuckle.
"I'm glad you've found someone you can trust," Thomas said warmly.
"More than that," Helios replied softly.
Dante squeezed his hand a little tighter. Helios smiled gently. This man was his — and he belonged to Dante alone.
Then his posture shifted. His expression grew serious; the lightness faded, replaced by quiet resolve.
"Thomas, would you please prepare everything for my parents' funeral? I don't want any outsiders there — it should be a private ceremony."
Thomas nodded slowly, attentively.
"Tomorrow we'll go to the facility and bring Mother… out." His voice trembled just slightly on the word. "They should both be buried in closed coffins."
Thomas bowed his head respectfully. "I'll see to everything," he promised with a faint, sorrowful smile.
Helios finished the rest of his coffee and finally stood up.
"The guards are to leave their posts in front of my room. It's enough if they watch the hallway entrance," Helios said, addressing Thomas again. "Everything else can continue as usual for now. Is there anything truly urgent that needs my attention?"
"I'll take care of it," Thomas replied with a reassuring smile. "There are a few things, but they can wait another day or two."
"Good. Then I'll focus on my recovery. I'll see you tomorrow, Thomas," Helios said with a small smile.
"Good night, my boy."
Dante had also risen from his chair by then. He quickly followed Helios, who was already leaving the kitchen and making his way back to his room.
When Helios heard the heavy footsteps of his guardian behind him, he stopped to wait. As soon as Dante caught up, Helios took his hand — and didn't let go again until there were more important places for that hand to be.