Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 69: Nightmare

Chapter 69: Nightmare

The darkness is relentless. It presses down on me, heavy and suffocating, as if the weight of it is trying to crush the very breath from my lungs. I open my eyes—or at least I think I do—but everything is the same. There’s no light here, no warmth, no escape. Just the same endless cold, the biting hunger that gnaws at my insides, and the pain that lingers in every part of me, dull and constant.

I’m still in that bed. The old, creaking frame beneath me feels like it’s sinking deeper into the ground. The thin blanket covering me is stiff with dirt and blood, offering no warmth, no comfort. My body feels like it’s made of stone, unmoving, my limbs too heavy, too weak to even twitch. I try to lift my arm, but it’s as if the muscles have forgotten how to respond. There’s nothing left in me.

Nothing but the cold.

The hunger.

The pain.

It’s worse now, sharper. The cold has settled deep into my bones, a permanent ache that never lets up. I can feel the edges of my skin, taut and raw from days of lying in the same position. My ribs press against the fabric of my shirt, skin stretched too thin over bone. I can’t even remember the last time I ate, or drank, or felt anything other than this sick, endless agony.

Was it ever different? Did I ever leave this place? My thoughts are a mess, tangled and distant, like memories trapped behind a fog I can’t quite clear. I try to grasp at them—images of warmth, of laughter, of Noelle.

Noelle...

A flash of his face, bright and full of life, like a star burning in the night. I reach for it, desperate. But it slips away, melting like water through my fingers. Noelle’s voice, his touch, his warmth... it feels so far now, so unreal. A figment of my imagination.

That’s all it was, wasn’t it?

I never escaped this place. I never met him. I’m still here, still rotting away in this forgotten corner of the world. My mind had conjured up that life with him, the one where I wasn’t alone, where someone cared about me. It was just a dream, a cruel fantasy I invented to escape the truth.

The truth is... I never left. I’m still dying here, alone, starving, and broken.

A tear slips down my cheek, but I don’t have the strength to wipe it away. The pain in my chest tightens, sharper than the hunger gnawing at my belly. I want to scream, but my throat is too dry, too hoarse. I can barely manage a whimper, let alone a cry for help.

But no one would hear me, anyway. No one’s coming.

I’m going to die here. Alone.

I close my eyes, hoping—praying—that the next breath will be my last. That the cold will finally take me, that I’ll slip away into nothingness.

But I keep breathing. The pain keeps growing. There’s no end.

I shiver uncontrollably, my teeth chattering in the dark. The blankets are useless. My body is stiff, and the room feels smaller, pressing down on me, closing in until there’s nothing but darkness.

I thought Noelle was real. I thought he saved me. But he was never real. He was just a dream, a fantasy I clung to in the hope that someone, anyone, would care enough to pull me out of this hell.

But no one came.

No one ever will.

I don’t even know if I want them to anymore. I just want it to end. Let the darkness take me, let the cold swallow me whole. Let there be silence. No more hunger, no more pain, no more hope.

Hope... the cruelest lie of all.

Just as I start to fade into that thought, just as I begin to give in, a sound cuts through the silence. A voice. Soft, gentle, but firm, like an anchor pulling me out of the depths.

"Thorne," it whispers.

It’s so familiar, like a faint light piercing through the fog of my nightmare. My heart stirs, just a little, a painful reminder of something I’ve lost.

"Thorne, wake up."

Hands, warm and steady, shake me, and for the first time in what feels like years, I feel warmth. Real warmth.

"Noelle...?"

I jolt awake. My body drenched in cold sweat, my heart racing. I’m not in that bed. I’m not in that house. The darkness fades, replaced by soft candlelight and the comforting presence of arms wrapped around me.

Noelle. He’s here, real, alive. His green eyes, wide with concern, meet mine.

"You were dreaming," he says softly, stroking my cheek. His touch is grounding, pulling me fully back to reality.

I blink, disoriented, but the nightmare lingers, like a shadow at the edges of my mind. I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to shake off the cold that still grips my bones.

I’m not there anymore.

I’m here. With Noelle.

But the fear still claws at me, a reminder of what I was, of how close I came to losing everything.

Noelle presses his forehead against mine, his voice soothing. "It’s okay. I’m here."

I close my eyes, clinging to him like a lifeline, still trembling. It takes a long moment before I can even begin to breathe normally again.

He’s real. This life is real. And I won’t lose it again.

Noelle’s arms tighten around me, his warmth sinking into my skin, soothing the lingering cold that clings to my bones. His fingers comb gently through my hair, each stroke easing the tension from my body. I lean into him, pressing my face into the curve of his neck, inhaling the soft, familiar scent of him—warm and steady, like home. The nightmare still lingers at the edge of my mind, but it feels distant now, like a storm receding far over the horizon. Here, in his arms, the fear ebbs, the crushing weight of hopelessness loosening its grip.