Like the sea

Noelle felt a slight unease as he found himself under the intense scrutiny of Thorne's blue eyes. The gaze, though weak, was piercing, as if the man lying before him was trying to decode every part of him, putting together the pieces of the voice he'd heard for days. Those eyes, once dull with pain and emptiness, now glimmered with a faint spark of life, a sign of the strength that must have defined Thorne in his prime. Noelle couldn't help but wonder what kind of man Thorne had been before life had reduced him to this fragile state. Was he formidable, commanding respect with just a glance? The thought lingered for a moment, but Noelle quickly brushed it aside.

He offered a bright smile, determined to lighten the mood. "Watermelon?" he asked, his tone chipper, trying to coax some normalcy into their interaction. Thorne's response was barely more than a slight nod, hesitant as if he were unsure whether to accept or refuse. Noelle picked up the small pieces of watermelon he had been nibbling on earlier and held one to Thorne's lips. There was a moment of reluctance, a flash of doubt in those blue eyes, but Noelle simply raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

With a resigned sigh, Thorne parted his lips, allowing Noelle to feed him. Noelle fought to suppress a smile of victory as Thorne begrudgingly accepted the offering. It was a small victory, but it felt monumental after weeks of one-sided care.

"Anyway, I'm glad you're awake," Noelle continued, his voice carrying a gentle warmth. He kept his tone light, as if chatting with an old friend, but there was an underlying sincerity that he couldn't quite hide. "It was getting a little lonely with all that silence, you know." He deliberately avoided meeting Thorne's gaze, focusing instead on the task of feeding him the watermelon.

Thorne's eyes, however, never left him. They were full of curiosity, lingering on Noelle with a depth that made Noelle feel strangely exposed. 

Noelle shifted slightly, trying to ignore the way Thorne's intense gaze made him feel as if he was being studied. It was unnerving, but he pressed on, determined to fill the silence with something other than the heavy air of the room. He decided to introduce himself properly, even if it felt a bit ridiculous at this point.

"Anyway," Noelle began, offering a small, almost playful smile, "I'm Noelle, your spouse. No take backs, unfortunately. We're in this thing together."

Thorne's blue eyes remained locked on him, and Noelle could feel the weight of that gaze. It was as if Thorne was trying to make sense of him, trying to place the face that went with the voice he'd been hearing in his fragmented consciousness. Noelle found himself babbling, trying to break the tension.

"I've been growing a bunch of vegetables in the garden," he said, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. "It was just a weed-ridden patch before, but now it's looking pretty decent. Got some tomatoes coming in, maybe even a few peppers if we're lucky."

He paused, thinking of the small fruit trees he'd managed to acquire through some bartering in town. "I have some fruit trees too," he added, "but I'm not sure where to plant them yet. Still thinking about it. I want them to be somewhere they can really thrive, you know?"

Thorne didn't respond, of course, but Noelle didn't expect him to. He kept talking, mostly to fill the quiet.

"You have beautiful eyes, you know," Noelle said softly, almost as an afterthought. He could see the way Thorne's gaze softened slightly at his words, and it made his heart clench a little. "They remind me of the sea."

There was a brief silence as Noelle considered what he'd just said, a small, wistful smile appearing on his lips. "I've never been to the sea," he admitted quietly, almost as if confessing a secret. "But I imagine it's like your eyes—vast, deep, and endlessly blue."

Thorne's eyes flickered, a faint glimmer of emotion that Noelle couldn't quite place. Maybe it was understanding, or maybe just a distant memory surfacing, but it was something, and it gave Noelle hope.

*

Thorne tried to keep his eyes open, desperate to hold onto the image of the omega who had been a voice in the dark for so long. Noelle's gentle voice was a lifeline, pulling him back from the abyss he had teetered on for what felt like an eternity. He wanted to soak in every word, every detail—the way Noelle's green eyes sparkled with life, the soft curve of his lips as he spoke, the delicate way his hands moved as he explained something about a garden Thorne could only vaguely comprehend. But the more Thorne tried to focus, the more his body betrayed him.

Fatigue weighed heavily on his eyelids, dragging him down, and despite his best efforts, his vision began to blur. He fought against it, clinging to the sound of Noelle's voice like a man drowning, but the pull of sleep was too strong. It was a different kind of exhaustion, one that came not just from physical weakness but from the overwhelming relief that washed over him. He had been alone for so long, lost in a sea of pain and darkness, that the presence of another person—someone who cared—was more soothing than he could have imagined.

Thorne's body, once a fortress of unyielding strength, now felt like a cage, trapping him in his own frailty. But as Noelle continued to talk, his words blurring into a soft, comforting hum, Thorne felt a sense of peace settle over him. It was the first time in what felt like forever that the tension in his chest eased, the gnawing hunger and constant pain fading into the background, replaced by a warmth he hadn't realized he'd missed.