The Substitute Healer (BL)-Chapter 26: “Uh… oh… thank you, sir…”

"Honey? Aren’t you going to wake up? My baby?"

The voice was so soft, familiar and impossibly warm that Soren’s eyelids fluttered before he even understood why. He blinked against the gentle light filtering through the room, and there—sitting beside him on the edge of the bed was his mother.

Her hand glided over his cheek with that same careful tenderness he remembered from childhood, her fingers brushing aside strands of his hair as though nothing in the world had changed. She looked exactly as she always had in his memories.

She has gentle smile, soft eyes filled with warmth and her presence was wrapping around him like a blanket he had long been denied.

"Mom...?"

"Hmm? Did you have a bad dream?" she whispered, her voice dripping with gentle concern. "Aww, my poor baby..."

Her embrace tightened, warm and protective. She also patted his back with her steady and reassuring touch. Everything he had yearned for in moments he convinced himself he didn’t need anyone.

But now, with her right here, the dam inside him finally crumbled.

"I... I miss you, Mom," he choked out, his voice cracking hopelessly. His fingers even curled tightly into the fabric of her clothes, almost crumpling them. "I r-really miss you..."

He buried his face in her chest, sobbing harder the closer he pressed himself to her. Her scent wrapped around him like a memory he had tried so hard to forget. Her hand stroked his hair as if time had never moved forward, as if the years of loneliness and hurt had never carved themselves into his heart.

"Oh, sweetheart..." she murmured, kissing the top of his head.

And Soren held her tighter because he was desperate and terrified since some part of him already knew this warmth could only exist inside a dream.

"Don’t leave me... please..." Soren’s voice broke as he clung tighter, his fingers trembling.

"I miss you so much. Just take me away," he whispered, almost begging.

"Take me with you... anywhere. I’ll go anywhere w-with you..."

His words dissolved into sobs as he held on, shaking, burying his face deeper into the warmth he refused to let go of. The more he cried, the harder he hugged, as if he feared the person in his arms would vanish if he loosened even a little.

Meanwhile, Lyric stood frozen.

He had only meant to drop Soren onto the bed and leave. But the moment he tried to pull away, Soren grabbed him and lock his arms around him with desperate strength.

Then he started crying so hard.

"... Hey—" Lyric muttered, stunned while unable to pry him off. He couldn’t even understand half of what Soren was saying because everything just came out in broken like hiccupped fragments.

But the pain in his voice was real, so real that it felt like every word carried years of bottled-up emotions.

Soren clung to him like a child terrified of being left behind, sobbing into his chest as if he were holding someone precious, someone Lyric knew wasn’t him.

A moment after, Lyric swallowed with his hands hovering uselessly in the air because he didn’t know what to say and how to move. He only knew that Soren’s cries hit somewhere he didn’t expect and couldn’t ignore.

At that moment, Lyric felt his heart slam against his ribs, the kind of heartbeat he hadn’t felt in years. It startled him so much that he almost forgot to breathe yet his hand kept moving on its own, patting Soren’s back in slow, hesitant strokes, as if trying to soothe him through instinct rather than intention.

He didn’t understand why he was doing it.

And he hated it.

He hated how close Soren was, how the healer’s entire weight rested against him, melting into his hold as if trusting him completely. He hated feeling Soren’s warm breath ghost across his collarbone, sending a strange shiver down his spine and he also hated the faint, soft scent lingering on Soren’s hair, something clean and subtle beneath the alcohol.

But most of all, he hated that none of it made him push Soren away.

When Soren’s crying finally quieted, it was like someone turned off a storm.

His breaths steadied, his body loosened, and the crushing grip around Lyric’s clothes slowly slipped away. The healer went completely limp, knocked out cold with tears drying on his cheeks so Lyric eased him back just enough to look at him—

and froze.

It was the first time he had ever seen Soren like this.

Without that practiced poker face and that small, polite smile he always wore when he healed others or tried to blend into the background. Without the quiet endurance he showed whenever people treated him unfairly.

This Soren looked defenseless and soft like someone who had finally let his heart break open after holding it together for far too long.

Realizing that, Lyric’s chest tightened just looking at him.

He wasn’t supposed to see this side of him and wasn’t supposed to feel anything because of it yet here he was, kneeling in the dim light of the tent, holding a sleeping, tear-streaked Soren in his arms with an emotion he couldn’t name tightening around his throat.

And for the first time, Lyric didn’t know whether the feeling frightened him...

...or drew him in even more.

"Gah, wh-what am I even doing?" Lyric stormed out of the tent after grabbing Soren’s blanket and throwing it on him.

When morning arrived right at six, Soren woke feeling strangely disoriented. He sat up and realized he was in his own tent, wrapped in a blanket pulled so high it nearly covered his face, though his feet were left completely exposed to the cold.

"Huh...?" he murmured.

His eyes felt swollen and sore. When he picked up the small mirror beside his bed, he almost flinched at the sight of his puffy eyes, dry skin and a face that clearly looked like he had been crying hard.

Unable to step out looking like that, he quickly washed up. He splashed cold water on his face until the redness eased, cleaned himself carefully, and tried to make himself look as normal as possible.

Only once he felt presentable did he step outside.

Still hungry, he headed straight for the healer’s tent, just as he had been doing these past weeks. It had become part of his routine now. Grabbing breakfast there and joining the nurses who often insisted on eating with him.

He also adjusted his cloak against the morning chill and made his way toward the tent, unaware that someone had been waiting for him to show up.

"Here... have some ginger tea."

Soren looked up and froze upon seeing that Caelius stood before him, elegant in his healer’s robe, his posture calm, his face composed but there was a quiet weight to him that made Soren’s chest tighten. The cup in his hand seemed small, ordinary, yet the way Caelius held it out, with that deliberate, careful motion, made it feel like it was meant just for him.

Without thinking, Soren straightened immediately as well as the two nurses he had been eating with stiffened, bowing instinctively before glancing at each other in surprise.

"Uh... oh... thank you, sir..." Soren said, his voice low.

He didn’t know the proper way to address him, but somehow, he knew this wasn’t just any healer but a noble.

"You’re hungover, right?" Caelius said, his voice calm, almost casual. "Empty this cup first, and tell me if you need more. Ginger tea is good for that."

He then placed the steaming cup gently on the table, then turned his back, moving with quiet efficiency as if nothing had happened yet Soren felt the air shift after he left. The faint scent of his robe lingered, subtle but warm, and Soren couldn’t help noticing it.

His fingers brushed the cup nervously, the warmth seeping into his hands, and for some reason, it made his heartbeat speed up.

"Uhm, Soren, are you close with Lord Rennovar?" one of the nurses asked, her words muffled by a mouthful of bread.

The other nurse elbowed her sharply. "Can you swallow it first before asking? Gosh."

Soren took a careful sip of the tea. The ginger warmth spread slowly through him, pushing away the last remnants of last night’s headache. "Uhm... it’s actually my first time talking to him," he admitted softly, eyes still on the cup, avoiding the memory of Caelius’s composed gaze but unable to completely push it from his mind.

"Hmm, really? I was actually surprised when the Lord approached you first. As you can see, no one really dares to talk to him, and even the two healers, Lord Vensworth and Lord Arctelle, never really bother him. You know, Lord Rennovar is so quiet that if he doesn’t talk, you’d never even know he’s there. That kind of feeling?" the nurse gossiped, giggling.

"Right, and he even knew that you’re hungover? Gosh, he might be keeping a close eye on you," the other nurse teased.

Soren just shrugged, shook his head at the thought, and glanced down at the tea.

’Hmm, come to think of it... who was it that brought me to my tent?’ Soren wondered, taking a sip of the tea while keeping his eyes fixed on the two sitting across from him.