Page 37 of The Mourning Throne
“Don’t youwantme to keep you alive, Ollie?" Lex asked, a little quieter. "You told me you didn't wanna die.”
If he said no? Lex would’ve hadnofucking clue what to do with that.Besideskeep it to himself. Morgan would neverneed to know Lex’s choice was suicidal.
But—surprisingly—Ollie glanced back. Eyes puffy. Face red.
He nodded. “Don’t—don’t let him kill me. Please.”
This night kept getting better and better.
By the time the video finished, Ollie had stopped crying. No sniffling. No shaking.
And when Lex closed the video and glanced over?
There was a whole lot of nothing on Ollie’s face. His eyes though? Those were fuckinghaunted.
Ollie would remember this foryears.
The thought gave Lex goosebumps. Satisfaction skittered up his arms.
Ollie would never,everforget him.
But when he looked at the time on his phone—his heart dropped into his feet.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Lex couldn’t get out of the second bedroom fast enough. Couldn’t lock the door the way he wanted.
When he finally got back to their bedroom—
Thankgod.
Morgan was still asleep.
Holy shit.
He leaned over, hands pressed to his knees. Waiting for his heart to slow back down to a normal pace.
Three-thirty in the morning was… the worst.
For Morgan, not him. Lex didn’t give a shit what time of day it was.
But Morgan? For whatever reason, his nightmares ran on a literal schedule.
And they wereterrifying.
Because the person that woke up wasn’t Morgan for a second. Morgan didn’t make those sorts of sounds—somewhere between a choke and a sob. Morgan didn’t shake. But the Morgan that woke up from those things inside his head? That one did.
Sometimes he’d go back to sleep immediately.
Others, Lex spent hours bringing him down. Rubbing his back. Brushing his hair behind his ears. Whispering the mostrandom shitLex’s sleep-addled brain could come up with.
Waiting until Morgan didn’t smell like sweat. Didn’t taste like salt.
Anything to bring him back.
Lex fucking hated those nights. Wished they didn’t exist.
