Why

Noelle continues massaging Thorne's leg, his fingers working methodically over the scarred skin. He tries to keep his focus, to maintain a sense of calm, but it's becoming increasingly difficult. The healthier Thorne gets, the stronger his pheromones become. They're overpowering at times, saturating the air with an intensity Noelle has never experienced before. He's never been around an Alpha, not like this, and the raw power of Thorne's scent is both unsettling and oddly comforting. It's a warmth that seeps into his bones, steady and reassuring, even as it overwhelms his senses.

Noelle knows he can't ask Thorne to control it. The man can barely lift his head, let alone manage his pheromones. So, Noelle adjusts, taking deep breaths and letting the scent settle around him, familiarizing himself with it. Slowly, he's getting used to it, to the way it seems to wrap around him like a protective shield.

Out of the corner of his eye, Noelle watches as Thorne very slowly picks up a grape from the bowl beside him. The movement is hesitant, almost cautious, as if Thorne isn't quite sure he's capable of it. But he manages, lifting the small fruit to his lips and nibbling on it. It's such a small thing, but to Noelle, it's a victory. A sign that Thorne is gaining strength, however slowly.

There's a faint sense of satisfaction as Noelle notes the subtle changes in Thorne's body. He's no longer the frail, emaciated figure he was when they first met. There's a bit more flesh on his bones now, enough that he doesn't look like he'd break with the slightest gust of wind. It's a relief, seeing him like this, even if he's still a long way from healthy.

Noelle's hands continue their work, kneading the stiff muscles with care. 

Noelle makes the final adjustments to the massage, his fingers moving from Thorne's scarred left leg to his right, ensuring that he's covered every area with care. Satisfied with his work, he leans back, wiping his hands on a cloth, and takes a moment to admire the slight improvement in Thorne's condition. The Alpha's muscles are still weak, but there's a subtle resilience beneath the surface now, a hint of strength returning.

"I'm glad you're feeling a tad bit better," Noelle says, more to himself than to Thorne. He begins to gather his things, mentally planning his next steps. "I need to head to the town down the hill. We need a lot of essentials, and honestly, you need meat in your diet and all." He rambles on, his voice light as he thinks aloud. "The herbs are extremely important, but so is a balanced meal."

He's halfway through wiping his hands when he hears it—a faint, almost inaudible word. "Why?" The sound is so low, so fragile, that Noelle nearly dismisses it as his imagination. But then, he sees the effort etched across Thorne's face, the strain in his eyes, and realizes it was real. Thorne had spoken, his voice barely a whisper, but it was there.

Noelle freezes, his heart skipping a beat as he processes what just happened. Thorne, who has been silent for so long, has spoken. It's only one word, but it feels monumental. Why? The question lingers in the air, filled with uncertainty and vulnerability. Why? Why is he helping? Why is he still here?

Noelle turns to look at Thorne, astounded by the effort it must have taken for him to speak. Thorne's lips move again, trying to form more words, but all that comes out is a croak. He tries again, his determination evident, but his voice betrays him, failing to produce anything more than a raspy sound.

"It's okay," Noelle quickly reassures him, leaning in closer. He places a gentle hand on Thorne's shoulder, offering a comforting smile. "You don't have to push yourself. Just take it easy."

*

I lie here in the dark, my eyes fixed on the ceiling as I try to make sense of my emotions. Noelle's gentle breathing fills the room, his warmth creating a cocoon of comfort around me. I didn't mean for the word "Why?" to escape my lips. It was a question that had been gnawing at me, but I hadn't expected to voice it out loud.

As I lay there, I feel a deep pang of regret. The first word I managed to say was a simple, raw expression of confusion, and it feels inadequate compared to everything Noelle has done for me. I had hoped for my first real words to convey more than just my bewilderment. Instead, my question emerged as a sad, almost pitiful croak.

It bothers me that I voiced such a question when I meant to keep my thoughts to myself. The vulnerability of that moment hits me hard. Noelle is here, giving so much of himself, and my feeble question must have seemed so insignificant in contrast.