Time slipped away from Cailan like water through cupped hands. His world narrowed to a hazy fog of basic needs—the dull ache of an empty stomach, the burning in his throat, the heaviness of his eyelids. He drifted in and out of consciousness, only vaguely aware of attending to his most basic functions.

At some point, even that tenuous connection to reality slipped away. Cailan sank into the void, expecting the cold embrace of death to follow. So when awareness slowly filtered back in, it came as a muted shock.

Warmth enveloped him first—a cocoon of comfort seeping into his chilled bones. Then sensations trickled in one by one: the press of a full bladder, the sticky dryness coating his tongue, the hollow ache of an empty stomach. Without conscious thought, Cailan's body gravitated towards the source of that blessed warmth. Strong arms tightened around him in response, and he felt the tickle of breath stirring his hair.

"Liam," Cailan rasped, his voice cracking from disuse. No one else's embrace had ever felt like home the way Liam's did. The familiar planes of his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat—they were an anchor pulling Cailan back to himself.

Liam pulled back, his blue eyes scanning Cailan's face intently. A shuddering sigh of relief escaped him, his shoulders sagging as tension visibly drained away. "I’m so sorry, Cailan. I didn’t mean for things to happen like this, but it was the only way to get us out of this house. We can both leave now.”

"Leave?" Cailan's voice was barely a whisper, confusion clouding his mind.

"I received my first fortnight of military pay," he explained gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles on Cailan's arm. “New recruits can't keep slaves on base, but there's lodging near enough that I could visit you every day. Now that I have the means, I can take you away from here."

A sob tore from Cailan’s throat, shaking his entire frame. Liam's arms tightened around him, one hand splayed protectively across his back while the other carded through his tangled hair.

Eventually, Liam's lips brushed against Cailan's ear. "Come on," he whispered. "We can't stay here long. I need to get you ready for travel."

Cailan's limbs felt leaden, his muscles quivering with the effort to remain upright. He sagged against Liam as they shuffled to the bathroom. Even as he relieved himself, Cailan's fingers weakly clutched at Liam's shirt, desperate for contact. Under different circumstances, he might have flushed with embarrassment, but now there was only the comfort of Liam’s presence beside him, gaze averted but grip firm and reassuring.

Aubree appeared in the doorway, a neatly folded robe draped over her arm. Her usual mask of indifference had slipped, revealing a hint of concern in the furrow of her brow. She watched as Cailan nibbled on a dry biscuit.

"He's okay?" she asked, hovering uncertainly. It was odd seeing her expression so open, her carefully maintained emotional barriers momentarily lowered.

"He will be," Liam grumbled. "I thought... I had hoped you would look after him."

Aubree's gaze darted away, her shoulders tensing as she peered down the empty hallway. "Your father—" She broke off, shaking her head. The mask slipped back into place, her expression hardening. "We don't all have the luxury of leaving. Some of us can't afford to step out of line."

As Liam gently eased the robe over Cailan's head, a soft gasp escaped his lips. His fingers ghosted over Cailan's sunken stomach, eyes widening in dismay. "He's half-starved. He's just a kid, Aubree. My father would have stood by and watched him die."

Aubree's face hardened, her lips pressing together. The bitterness in her voice could have etched glass. "That surprises you? Your father sees more humanity in the mangy strays that roam the streets than in any slave."

A choked sound rose from Liam's throat. He scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand, but not before Cailan caught the glimmer of tears. "He could have—" Liam started, then broke off, shaking his head. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "I thought he cared for me, even if only a little. I thought—" Another shake of his head, this one sharp and angry. "But that's why I'm leaving, isn't it?"

Aubree took a step further into the room, hesitating just inside. "I've overheard him griping about the dangers of military life since you left. Worrying himself. It's more than just a fear of losing what he's invested in his only heir. He does care."

Liam ignored the tears trailing down his cheeks as he helped Cailan into the clean robe, his hands fighting against the tremble that had settled into them.

"He knows how much Cailan means to me," Liam said, his fingers lingering on Cailan's shoulders as if afraid to let go. "He knows how devastated I'd be if anything happened to him. If he truly cared for me, wouldn't he have looked after Cailan?"

Aubree gave a shake of her head. "You know it's not his way."

"Too well."

"Liam—" Aubree began, taking a step forward, her hand outstretched as if to offer comfort.

But Liam cut her off, his jaw tightening. "Please, just go and pack Cailan's clothes," he said, his voice regaining some of its strength. "I don’t want to be here when my father gets home."

Aubree's lips tightened, but she nodded once and left without another word.

Cailan yearned to comfort Liam, to ease the quiet hitches in his breath that betrayed his tears. But exhaustion clouded his mind, leaving him struggling to form coherent thoughts. All he could manage was to cling weakly to Liam's shirt as his master moved between packing and coaxing Cailan to take small bites of food. Though legally a man at sixteen, Liam seemed achingly young and vulnerable.

"Not everyone is awful," Liam said to Cailan as he placed a neatly folded shirt into the suitcase with exaggerated care. "Some people in this world are kind."

"I know," Cailan breathed, his eyes fixed on Liam's face. Of course he knew—his master was one of those people.

"I've been struggling with how I should feel about... about owning you," Liam admitted. "I thought there was only one right way to think about it, and it wasn’t one I liked. But while I’ve been away, I've made friends from different walks of life. When I've mentioned you to them, their perspectives are... different. It's made me question things."

"Mmh," Cailan murmured, burrowing closer to Liam's warmth.

“They’re not like my school friends who think I needn’t worry about how young you are. They're... better men than I am, I think,” Liam said. "They see the cruelty inherent in slavery and want no part of it. But Cailan..." His voice cracked slightly. "I do want you. Always. You're the most precious thing in my world, and I can't bear the thought of letting you go."

A whimper escaped Cailan's throat, raw and desperate. He pressed himself impossibly closer to Liam, his fingers digging into Liam's shirt. The very idea of separation sent a shiver of fear through him.

"There are men far worse than my father out there. Brutal, heartless creatures. I'm not the worst of them, certainly. But Cailan..." He paused, swallowing hard. "I'm far from the best. And I'm not sure I even want to be."

Cailan's heart ached. He longed to reassure Liam, to tell him he was perfect, that he outshone the sun itself. But words failed him. Instead, he clung tighter, his fingers digging into Liam's sides, trying to convey through touch alone the depth of his devotion.

A quiet chuckle rumbled through Liam's chest, followed by a soft sniffle. His arms tightened around Cailan, protective and possessive. "I love that you're mine," he whispered, his breath warm against Cailan's ear. "That you belong to me. And I'm only now beginning to understand how wrong that might be."

A soft knock punctuated the silence, followed by the creak of the door opening. Aubree peered in, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of Liam's tear-stained face. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she pushed the door wider, manoeuvring a small wheeled suitcase into the room. "I've packed all of Cailan's clothes," she said, her voice carefully neutral.

Liam's gaze darted around the room, taking in the familiar surroundings one last time. He snatched up a stray shirt, stuffing it haphazardly into his own suitcase before zipping it closed.

Grasping the suitcase handle in one hand, Liam reached for Cailan with the other. Liam's exhale was long and shaky, his shoulders sagging as if a great weight had settled upon them. "I suppose it's time.”

"You don't have to go through with this," Aubree reminded him.

A tired smile tugged at the corners of Liam's mouth, not quite reaching his eyes. "No," he said, his voice growing stronger. "For the first time in my life, I'm choosing my own path." He inhaled sharply, the sound hissing between his teeth. His grip on Cailan's hand tightened as he swung their joined hands gently, as if testing the feel of this new reality. "Alright," he declared, squaring his shoulders. "I'm ready."

Cailan managed to pull his suitcase down the hallway, but as they approached the grand staircase, reality set in. His legs trembled with exhaustion, barely able to support his own weight. When Liam gently tried to disentangle their hands to carry the suitcase, Cailan’s fingers tightened desperately around Liam's, a whimper escaping his throat.

After a moment's consideration, Liam devised a solution. He hoisted Cailan's lighter suitcase onto his shoulder, leaving one arm free for Cailan to cling to while they descended the stairs.

As they neared the bottom of the staircase, Cailan's gaze lifted from his own unsteady feet to find an imposing figure waiting for them. Liam's father stood like a statue at the foot of the stairs. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, face set in a mask of stern disapproval.

Cailan felt Liam's body stiffen beside him, the muscles in his arm going taut under Cailan's grip. The suitcase thudded softly onto the floor as Liam set it down, the sound seeming unnaturally loud in the tense silence.

Liam's father's eyes, hard and cold, bore into them. His gaze flickered briefly to Cailan before settling on his son, lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. "You can forget about your inheritance, you know."

Liam halted, his body a protective barrier between Cailan and his father. His arm tightened almost imperceptibly around Cailan, drawing him closer. "I'm earning my own money now.”

His father's response was a harsh bark of laughter. "You'll never have the kind of life you had here on a military salary."

Liam's jaw clenched, a muscle twitching beneath the skin. His next words were low, but filled with a quiet intensity that made Cailan shiver.

"I don't want the kind of life I've had here," Liam said, gently manoeuvring Cailan behind him. "Not ever again."

Liam's father remained silent as they made their way past him, his stern façade cracking just enough to reveal a flicker of... something. Surprise? Hurt? It was gone in an instant, replaced by a frown that seemed to deepen the lines on his weathered face.

Stepping out of the house, Liam shielded Cailan from the brisk morning air as he signalled for a nearby carriage. Liam helped Cailan climb inside, and they settled onto the seat, Cailan instinctively curling into Liam's warmth. As they set off towards the military base, Liam's fingers combed through Cailan's hair, each stroke melting away the tension in his body. Exhaustion pulled at him, and Cailan surrendered to the darkness once more.

Cailan stirred as strong arms lifted him, the sudden shift in position causing his stomach to lurch slightly. Cailan's eyelids fluttered open, taking in the blurred image of a modest two-story inn. The warm summer air caressed his face as Liam carried him, his body limp and pliant in his master's embrace.