His Rogue Luna

Twenty One

Alexithymia
(n.) The inability to express your feelings.

I woke up feeling strange. I wasn't sure why I felt weird, I couldn't name what felt so out of place. Regardless, I woke up in a hospital room, relatively painless asides from my stiff body.

I carefully sat up, looking around the room for a clue as to why I was here. I heard murmuring outside my door before the handle turned and a figure stepped inside.

It was Aurelius who stepped inside, carrying a coffee cup. He didn't seem to notice me sitting up in the bed as he ran a hand through his inky hair and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly.

He had a dark stubble on his face that looked days old and shadows under his eyes that were dark enough to look like bruises.

He finally looked up, his pale blue eyes wide as they made contact with my brown ones. He let out a whoosh or air before walking towards me.

"You're up," he stated.

"Why am I here? What happened?" I asked. My voice was a little rough.

"You don't remember?" I shook my head. Obviously I didn't know why I was here otherwise I wouldn't be asking.

"Well," he swallowed, awkwardly taking the seat besides me. "After the meeting in the hall, some maids found you collapsing on the floor bleeding from your mark," I blinked as I digested his words, memories finally returning to me.

I remembered the sudden pain that erupted from my neck and the throbbing pulsing sensation as blood oozed out of the wound. The intensity of the pain and the blood was all so sudden.

"You lost a lot of blood. The doctors still don't know why your mark hadn't healed or why you were bleeding," My hand instinctively went to the side of my neck, surprised to find the skin there smooth and painless.

He watched the movement, his eyes glued to the spot on my neck my fingers brushed.

"Your mark, it's gone," I was surprised, needing to look for myself. Thankfully, there was a small mirror on the bedside table and true to his words, there was no mark on my neck. The skin was smooth and flawless, no sign of anyone ever having bitten me there.

I was relieved.

"I'm glad it doesn't hurt anymore," I muttered. He didn't respond.

"How long was I in here?"

"Three days, this would be your fourth," he answered. I nodded, feeling his gaze on me. I didn't have anything to say to him so I turned to him expectantly, raising a brow at him.

He swallowed, looking at the ground before looking back up at me.

"You almost died," he spoke. I was a little surprised. I don't feel like I died. Not that I know what that felt like, but for someone who almost died I felt perfectly fine. "You were losing a lot of blood fast and the transfusions weren't working. But then miraculously you stopped. And you started healing despite losing almost four pints of blood," he continued.

I was surprised I had lost that much blood and almost died from it. Again, waking up now I felt fine, albeit a little strange.

"I almost lost you," he whispered. He reached a hand out to brush my arm and place it over my clenched hand. His fingers felt warm against my skin but something felt wrong. Something was missing.

"I didn't think you'd care," I frowned, pulling my hand away from his.

"Of course I care. I just-," he looked to be struggling to find the right words. He huffed, clearly frustrated with himself. For a moment, I pitied him. He was unable to express himself which I knew could be frustrating.