Salo sat at the edge of the bed, his body stiff, the weight of his paralysis pressing on him like a thousand unseen chains. His eyes, narrowed in frustration, locked onto his lover. They stood there, silently, with a look in their eyes that only made him angrier—hurt, confused, and far too understanding for his liking.

"Why do you always have to treat me like I'm fragile?" His voice cracked with a mixture of rage and helplessness. He hated the way they tiptoed around him, as if his suffering made him any less of a man. "I don’t need your pity! I don’t need your help!"

The words hung in the air, sharp and venomous, each syllable a lash against both of them. Salo’s hands, once so graceful and commanding, trembled with the effort to control himself. He watched as they recoiled, the pain in their eyes cutting deeper than anything his body could feel.

But no. He would not show weakness—not to them. Not to anyone. Or so he thought..

They moved toward the door, their back turned to him, and for a moment, he felt the walls closing in. His chest tightened, and something primal surged within him, something far darker than mere anger. His pride, his dignity, shattered at the sight of them leaving. He cracked.

"Don’t you dare leave me!" he yelled, his voice rising into a strangled plea. “Don’t..”

With a clumsy, desperate lunge, Salo fumbled out of bed, his hands grasping at the air as if trying to force the world to bend to his will. His legs, useless beneath him, betrayed him again, sending him tumbling to the floor with a sickening thud.

“Stay…” he gasped, his breath ragged. His voice trembled, no longer filled with arrogance, but with a raw, broken plea. “Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me like this…” “He practically sobbed out.*