[BL]Hunted by the God of Destruction

The physician didn't pause at the shift in his breathing.

She finished wrapping his hands with methodical care, her gloves dusted with dried antiseptic and blood, none of it hers. When she finally stood, she didn't offer a smile or a nod, just a quiet confirmation that she would return in two days, unless called earlier.

Elias barely registered her leaving.

The moment the door clicked shut, he pulled the blanket over his shoulders and stood, slow, careful, each step a negotiation with the dull ache blooming along his right leg. He didn't say anything as Robert handed him the bandage wrap for his ankle and a plastic guard for the gauze.

The pain was burning through his body, each movement a painful reminder of the events that took place the night that passed just hours ago. He turned to Robert before entering the bathroom. 

"Would I be restricted from my university and research?" He asked, bracing for the worst. 

"I don't have the answer for that, but your new phone would receive calls and messages from your old number by noon, of course, without manipulation." 

"Huh… I see. Thank you." And Elias turned to the shower with one thought in mind: sleep for a while. 

The bathroom was minimalist, warm-toned, and almost too elegant for a safehouse, with walls the color of soft stone, a rainfall shower framed in matte black metal, and a long wooden counter with a round basin sink that looked more sculpted than functional. 

Elias sighed and entered slowly, undressing the dirty pajamas, placing them in the clothes basket by the door. 

He stepped carefully, his bandaged foot never quite touching the cold tile, and closed the glass shower door behind him with a quiet click.

Steam rose quickly, curling against the smooth stone walls, softening the hard lines of the space. The water was hot, but he didn't turn it down. He stood beneath it with his eyes closed, letting the heat bite into his skin, letting it strip away the night like layers of dust.

His muscles trembled from exhaustion, but he didn't sit. Elias tilted his head back beneath the stream, mindful of the bandages, and let it run over his neck and shoulders, washing away the dried sweat, the city's grit, and the scent of fear clinging to his skin.

No thoughts. Just the water, and the silence, and the hum of something fragile beginning to unravel inside his chest.

Elias dressed slowly, every motion careful, his limbs heavy with that quiet ache fatigue always left behind. The joggers were soft against his scraped skin, the long-sleeved shirt stretching gently over his shoulders. He pulled the socks on last, careful not to tug too hard near the bandaged foot. The clean clothes warmed him up; he didn't realize how cold it was outside. 

Robert was waiting just outside the bathroom, posture straight, waiting to assist him when needed. 

"You'll sleep upstairs for the moment," he said simply.

Elias raised a brow. "There's an upstairs?"

Robert didn't answer. He only turned toward the stairs, matching his pace to Elias's with patience.

They climbed together, slow, steady, Elias leaning slightly on the railing, with Robert close enough to catch him if his ankle gave way, but never reaching out unless Elias asked.

Halfway up, Elias exhaled through his nose and murmured, "Are all of Victor's safehouses like this?"

Robert's steps didn't falter, but his silence stretched a little too long before the answer came.

"No," he said finally. "Not quite."

Elias glanced sideways, catching the faintest pull at the edge of Robert's mouth. A half-smile. Barely there.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're… one of the ones he planned for," Robert said easily, as if it weren't a confession. "Not just protected. Designed for."

Elias didn't reply.

The second floor opened up into a space that felt less like a temporary refuge and more like a sanctuary. The hallway was dim, the carpet soft beneath his steps. Robert led him to the bedroom on the left.

The room was elegant. Calming.

Dark walls softened by clean light, a cityscape hung above the headboard, all muted blues and silvers. The bed looked untouched, inviting in a way that didn't feel strange. 

Elias crossed the threshold slowly, eyes drifting across the soft textures and the planned order. The kind of peace no safehouse should have.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, already sinking into it.

"You'll be undisturbed until morning," Robert said from the doorway. "Unless you call."

Elias nodded once. "Thank you."

Robert gave a slight bow of the head, then stepped back, closing the door with the same quiet precision he'd shown all evening. The latch clicked into place, barely audible over the hush of the room.

Elias didn't move right away.

The bed dipped beneath his weight, the mattress absorbing tension he hadn't realized he was still carrying. He exhaled slowly.

His fingers traced the edge of the blanket once, then fell still.

Everything smelled faintly of clean linen and something herbal, like whoever prepared the space had known exactly what wouldn't trigger a memory and what wouldn't crowd the air. The walls weren't oppressive. The furniture didn't demand to be noticed.

It was a room designed for breathing.

And Elias, finally, let himself breathe.

—

The buzz was soft.

Just enough to cut through the stillness.

Elias stirred beneath the blankets; the room darkened further now, touched with the blue-grey shadow of early evening. The air was still warm, the weight of sleep still heavy across his shoulders, and for a moment, he didn't remember where he was.

Then the phone buzzed again.

He blinked slowly and blearily and reached toward the side table. The screen lit up, an unfamiliar model, smooth and thin, but already configured. A single notification glowed across it: a system update confirmation, his old number reconnected.

The air felt heavier now, like it had been still for too long and noticed the shift.

Elias's breath caught in his throat as he looked around the room, the details sharper in the dimming light. The dark walls, the photo above the bed, the deliberate symmetry of everything. Not the dorm. Not even close.

The sheets were unfamiliar. 

And then, he saw him.

Victor sat by the window, framed by the pale wash of dusk, his silhouette all hard lines and unreadable grace. The tablet rested on his lap, fingers poised mid-scroll, as if he had paused the moment Elias moved.

Elias flinched, shoulders tightening as his feet instinctively curled under the blanket. His bandaged hand curled near his chest, protective. Defensive.

"That's a harsh reaction to the one that saved you." Victor said slowly, his dark crimson eyes watching him amused.