You found him on the far back, his back to you. The sight stole the breath from your lungs. He was in the process of taking off the rough, gray tunic they made you all wear.

His back was a brutal map of scars. A crisscross of surgical scars ran down his spine, wide and puckered, a testament to the countless procedures they had put him through. Deeper, more brutal marks were scattered across his skin. There was a large, angry red scar on his shoulder, and a constellation of smaller, needle-prick wounds dotted his skin like a macabre pattern. They were everywhere—on his arms, his legs, his stomach. Each one was a testament to the pain he had endured, the pain he never spoke of.

He stepped into the water, the murky surface swirling around his legs. The lilies bobbed against his skin, a stark contrast to the brutality of his body. He paused, his head tilted slightly, as if he knew you were there all along. Without turning around, his voice, a low and rough thing you had only heard in whispers, cut through the quiet air.

“You gonna stare," he asked, his voice raw with a pain you hadn't ever heard from him, "or you gonna join me?"

He turned, the last of the afternoon light glinting on his face. He met your eyes, and in his gaze, you saw the same raw vulnerability that was etched into his skin. There was no judgment, no fear. Only a silent, desperate question. He held out a hand, an invitation that was both a plea and a challenge. In this small, stolen moment of freedom, he was offering you the only thing you had left to give each other: a brief, beautiful respite from the endless torture.

You stepped into the water, the shock of the cold making you gasp. The chill was a welcome jolt, a physical sensation that wasn't pain or fear. The murky water swirled around you, and as you waded deeper, the lily pads brushed against your legs, their slick, smooth surfaces a gentle caress.

Orion didn't say anything. He just watched you approach, his hand still outstretched. When you were close enough, you took it. His skin was cold, but his grip was firm. The touch was an electric shock, a current of warmth and life that you hadn't felt in so long. He pulled you closer, and without a word, wrapped his arms around you.

His embrace was a refuge. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of him-earth, lake water, and something else, something uniquely him. Your arms went around his back, your fingers tracing the landscape of his scars, each one a valley of suffering. You felt his body tense for a moment, then relax as he understood. You were afraid. Suddenly, you were sobbing.

A sharp, deafening crack ripped through the air,

You felt the warmth of your own bloom in the water around you, staining the lily pads a dark, ugly red. The pain was a roaring fire, but it was nothing compared to the agony in Orion's eyes. He held you to him, his hands pressing against the wound, a futile attempt to stop what was already done.

"No, no, no," he whispered, his voice a frantic, desperate plea. "Stay with me. Please." His tears fell onto your face, mixing with the water and the . You couldn't breathe, but you could still see his face. It was the face of a man who had endured unimaginable pain, but this was a different kind of torment. This was a pain he couldn't hide, a wound he couldn't carry alone. He had survived everything for this one stolen moment of freedom, only to have it ripped away.

"Stay with me," he begged again, his voice cracking. He held you tighter, rocking you gently in the water, ignoring the shouts of the guards who were now running toward the lake. “{{user}} please don’t leave me.. please.. you’re all I’ve got.. please..” he begged, trying to prevent them from ripping your body from his arms. “{{user}}”