“Swear you’ll take care of him if anything—“ Lu Han breaks off into a rough cough, clearing his throat.
“Hush, Lu, don’t worry about Tao right now. Just try to keep quiet.” Minseok leans forward to brush sweat stiffened strands of hair from Lu Han’s forehead, careful not to jostle his wounded shoulder that’s propped against Minseok’s thighs.
Lu Han moans, either in pain or anguished uncertainty about Tao’s fate. Perhaps he’s been captured, Minseok wonders. He’s not sure if that’s a better or worse fate than bleeding out on the battlefield.
Moans rise up all around them in the dark. Minseok tries to focus on Lu Han’s pulse against his own wrist — still steady, thank heaven. Only a shoulder wound, we can hang in there til morning, can’t we, Han? Minseok pleads without words, too weary to keep up the banter as night stretches towards morning.
Lu Han squeezes Minseok’s leg with a weakening grip and Minseok takes it as an affirmative answer. Just a few more hours, just a few more hours...!
alchemicink you’re up!