Chapter 7: Sunlight
The faint sound of birds chirping reaches my ears, piercing through the usual quiet. I freeze, my mind sluggishly processing the unfamiliar noise. Birds? Have I heard that before? I struggle to recall the last time I registered something so simple, so alive.
Slowly, I force my eyes open, the effort exhausting. It's been a week since I first managed to wake up, and every day since then, I've clawed my way back to consciousness, fighting the suffocating weight of weakness. I can keep my eyes open for longer now, and I can even manage a few small movements, but my voice is still a pitiful croak, barely more than a whisper. Every breath is an exercise in patience, every shift of my body a reminder of how far I've fallen.
But today, something feels different. My gaze drifts to the window, and I'm met with a sight I never thought I'd see again: a vibrant garden in full bloom. For the first time since waking, I'm outside. The sunlight hits me like a physical force, so intense that I have to squint against it. It's almost too much, the brightness burning my eyes after so long in the dark. I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it until now—something as simple as sunlight, a luxury I never valued when I was still healthy.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting the warmth seep into my skin, soaking it in like a starving man offered a feast. It's a small pleasure, but it feels monumental, a reminder of the life I once took for granted.
When I open my eyes again, I'm drawn to the sight of Noelle in the garden, battling with what appears to be a bird. My mind struggles to reconcile the image—this beautiful, stubborn omega locked in a ridiculous standoff with a creature a fraction of his size. The bird flits around him, almost taunting, and I can't help but think it's mocking him. It's such a silly scene, so absurdly normal, that for a moment, I forget my own misery.
Noelle is wearing those faded grey pants and an equally worn white shirt that somehow doesn't diminish his beauty. If anything, it enhances it, framing his lithe figure in a way that makes my chest tighten. He's a stark contrast to the bleakness that has become my existence, a burst of color in a world that has been nothing but gray for so long.
"I swear, if I catch you, you're going to be dinner!" Noelle mutters darkly, shaking a fist at the bird. It's endearing in a way that makes my heart ache, a warmth spreading through me that I haven't felt in ages.
Then he notices me. "Oh, Thorne? You're awake." His voice brightens, and he flashes me a smile so radiant it rivals the sunlight. He walks over, brushing a few strands of hair from my face with a tenderness I don't deserve. How can he look at me like that, like I'm still someone worth caring for? I've seen my reflection—caught a glimpse in the mirror by accident—and I nearly had a panic attack at the sight. I'm a ghost of who I once was, a gaunt, broken shell. Yet here he is, acting as if none of that matters.
Noelle leaves for the kitchen, and when he returns, he's holding a cup of that vile herb concoction he's been forcing down my throat every day. I eye it with distaste, my stomach churning at the mere thought of it.