Chapter 100: Disaster
Chapter 99
Jack
I pull him into my arms despite the cold. He’s trembling, weakly fighting against me, his skin icy and slick under my hands.
"Geez," I murmur, voice cracking. "You’re freezing, sunshine. How long have you been in here?"
He doesn’t answer. Just keeps shivering. His breath comes in short, panicked bursts that sound too much like sobs.
"Sunshine, look at me."
He turns away, pressing his forehead to the wall. The water keeps hitting his back, relentless and cold.
"Ciel, please." I whisper.
After a long, fragile second, his eyes meet mine. They’re red and swollen, his lashes stuck together from tears and water. His lips are cracked, trembling with words he’s too ashamed to say.
"Don’t say anything about my sunshine," I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. "You’ll hurt my feelings."
He shakes his head, his voice breaking. "But I am disgusting, Jack. I—"
"No."
He flinches at the firmness in my tone.
"No, sunshine," I say again, softer this time. "That’s not your fault."
"It is!" His voice rises, hoarse and trembling. "It is! It’s my body! It— it !" He tries to push me away, but I don’t let him. He’s stronger than he realizes, fueled by panic and shame.
"Ciel." I grab his wrists before he can scratch himself again.
"Stop. Please."
He’s gasping now, tears mixing with water. "Let me wash it off, Jack. Please— just let me clean myself—"
His voice breaks into a sob so desperate it nearly takes me down with it.
"Okay." I swallow hard, my chest tightening painfully. "Okay, sunshine. You just want to be clean, yeah?"
He nods weakly. His shoulders slump, trembling as though he’s run out of strength.
"Then let me help you."
I glance back at Nolan, who’s standing at the door, pale and silent. He seems to understand immediately, grabbing the shower gel and handing it to me. His hands are shaking too.
I take it, turn back to Ciel. His head is down, his hair dripping, sticking to his face.
"You’ll let me, won’t you?" I whisper, keeping my voice gentle, careful, reverent. "I’m sure I can do a better job of cleaning you."
For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move. Then, barely audible, "...Okay."
The word is so soft, so small, it nearly breaks me.
I squeeze the gel into my palms, rub them together to warm it, and then — slowly, carefully — I start.
Not with desire. Not even comfort, really. Just quiet, steady tenderness.
I wash his arms first, the red lines from scratching standing out against his pale skin. The water washes pink for a moment, then clear again. I trace over his wrists, his hands, gently wiping away the blood and suds.
He’s still trembling, but he lets me.
"See?" I murmur quietly. "It’s coming off. Just water and soap, sunshine. That’s all it ever takes."
***
Nolan
This is the first time I’ve seen Ciel calm down this quickly.
Normally, it takes hours—hours of shaking, crying, and clawing at his own skin before exhaustion finally forces his body to give up. And when nothing else worked, I used to crush sleeping pills into his tea, because at least then he’d get some peace. Watching him go through it again and again was a special kind of helplessness.
But this... this is different.
Jack sits there in his damp clothes, shirt clinging to him, shoes dripping onto the tiles. He doesn’t even notice. He’s too focused on Ciel—watching every breath, every tiny movement like the world might shatter if he blinks too long.
Ciel looks dazed, eyes glassy but not empty anymore. He’s blinking more, grounding himself. The fog is lifting, slowly but surely.
Jack leans forward, brushing wet strands of hair off Ciel’s forehead, his movements unbearably gentle.
"All clean," he murmurs, his voice rough but steady. Then, with a small, tender smile, he presses a kiss to Ciel’s forehead.
"Next time, how about I clean you, hmm?"
It’s teasing—but not the cruel kind. It’s soft, coaxing, like he’s reminding Ciel that tenderness still exists in the same world that hurt him.
Ciel makes a faint sound that could almost be a laugh if it weren’t so fragile. Jack stands, helping him to his feet, steadying him like he’s afraid Ciel will break if he lets go too soon.
I move closer immediately, wrapping a towel around Ciel before he starts shivering again. His body is still cold, his skin clammy beneath my hands, but at least his breathing is even now.
In the room, I wipe his body dry, hair and wrap him in a towel.
He flinches at the touch, muscles tensing before his brain catches up. I keep my movements slow, gentle, giving him space to pull away if he needs to.
He takes a step back, frowning, and it’s small barely anything really but it splits me in two.
"You smell like him," he says.
Right. Of course.
It’s not his fault. It’s not mine. But to Ciel, right now, that scent must feel like another invasion.
I exhale softly and strip off my shirt, then the rest, until I’m in nothing but my boxers. "Better?" I ask quietly.
He nods after a moment, hesitant but calmer.
"Come," I say, voice low, steady. "Let’s get your body temperature back to normal."
He doesn’t resist when I guide him to the bed. His skin is cold, pale, his fingers trembling as he crawls beneath the covers. I rub warmth back into his hands, slow and rhythmic.
***
Jack
I remove everything, leaving my soaked clothes hanging wherever I can find space in the cramped bathroom. The air is thick with scent of the cheap citrusy shower gel. I take one last glance at the cold, dripping shower before stepping out.
The motel room is dim, lit only by a flickering yellow bulb and the soft hum of the heater trying—and failing—to warm the place.
And there he is.
Ciel.
Curled in Nolan’s arms, small, trembling, eyes distant. He looks... breakable. Like a piece of porcelain that’s been glued together one too many times.
It hits me like a punch to the gut.
He burrows closer into Nolan, and Nolan holds him tighter, murmuring something I can’t hear. I freeze in the doorway—half-dressed, freezing, water dripping down my neck, a towel knotted around my waist—and yet I can’t bring myself to step closer.
I drag in a breath and exhale slowly, trying to calm the storm inside me. Then I sit down in the small chair near the window, order some hot chocolate on the room phone because my hands need something to do, and wait.
The silence is unbearable.
Tonight was a fucking disaster.
I should have been there. I should have been there.
I knew better than to underestimate this world, and yet I did.
Stupid.
So fucking stupid.
I saw the signs early on—the way people stare when an omega walks without a collar, the hushed whispers, the way every conversation in this place smells faintly of control.
It’s like those ultra conservative religious countries on my earth but with steroids.
I’m sitting here, hands still stinging from the punches, wondering what the hell kind of place treats assault like an inconvenience.
By virtue of Ciel existing—existing—he’s considered an invitation. Because he had no collar, no mark.
Like that justifies it.
I bury my face in my hands, trying to breathe, but it’s useless. The anger just coils tighter.
I glance at the bed again. Nolan’s hand strokes Ciel’s hair with practiced ease. Too practiced. My throat tightens. This isn’t the first time.
And that realization kills me.
That this kind of fear, this kind of trembling—has happened before. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not this bad. Maybe worse than this.But enough times that Nolan knows how to handle it. Enough times that he’s built rituals for calming him down.
I clench my fists. My knuckles ache. I want to punch the wall, the universe—anything. But what good would it do?
I stand, restless, and cross the small room, stopping just beside the bed. Ciel’s eyes flicker open briefly, unfocused. Nolan meets my gaze, tired, silently asking if I’m okay.
I shake my head. Of course I’m not.
Still, I kneel down beside the bed.
"Hey," I say softly, brushing a damp strand of hair off Ciel’s forehead.
His eyes flicker open. He looks at me for a brief millisecond before looking away, shuffling closer to Nolan like he’s trying to vanish inside him.
There are a thousand things I want to say—angry, destructive, useless sentences. I’ll find him. I’ll make him pay. I’ll burn this place down until it’s nothing but ash and silence. All of that tastes like adrenaline and dread.
So, I do the only thing that feels real right now.
"I’m sorry," I whisper. My voice sounds wrong in the quiet. "For what happened tonight."
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even breathe louder. Just lies there, small and cold, fingers gripping Nolan’s chest like a lifeline.
"I should have planned better," I continue quietly. "Should’ve thought ahead. My negligence caused this. I’m sorry."
There’s no answer from Ciel, only a faint tremor in his shoulders. Nolan looks up at me, eyes tired but steady.
"It’s not on you, Jack," he says softly.
"There are assholes like that everywhere. I should’ve been more alert. It’s only natural you don’t think about such things—you’re an alpha."
I want to tell him no, actually, that’s not it—that I haven’t even been in this damn world for three years yet. That I don’t fully understand its broken rules, its hierarchies, its cruelty dressed up as biology.
But that doesn’t matter.
Excuses don’t fix anything.
So I just shake my head. "Even more reason for me to feel ashamed."
Nolan exhales, rubbing gentle circles into Ciel’s back. "You don’t need to be ashamed, Jack. You protected him."
And finally Ciel’s voice comes out, small, hoarse, barely there.
"It’s not your fault, Jack."
His words are quiet, but they tear something open in me anyway.
"The same way," I murmur, leaning a little closer, "it’s not your fault that asshole came onto you, sunshine."
His shoulders tense. I see the small furrow between his brows, the faint movement that tells me he’s frowning. Even after everything, that tiny, familiar expression breaks something soft in my chest.
So damn cute.
I can’t help but smile, even if it feels like my throat’s closing up.
"I mean it," I say quietly. "None of this is your fault. You hear me?"
He doesn’t answer,not out loud,but his breathing slows a little, the tension in his shoulders easing by fractions. That’s enough.
For now, that’s enough.