'Just a bit.'
Kairo's fingers closed around Eli's wrist. The boy twitched from the contact, but didn't pull away. His pulse fluttered against Kairo's grip, fast and uneven, but he held firm.
'How has he been able to act like nothing was wrong? These cuts… they're not shallow. He's been bleeding this whole time.'
The grooves carved by Mio's threads were raw, ugly, still leaking thin, sluggish lines of crimson.
Kairo dragged his palm across them, pressing harder than necessary, until his skin was wet with Eli's blood.
He didn't stop there. His hand moved higher, smearing away the streak from Eli's split nose, catching the trickle that dripped faintly from his ear.
Every drop.
Every trace.
Scarlet shimmered faintly in response, a pulse running up Kairo's veins like an echo. Eli's blood sank into him, and the connection flared—recognition, resonance.
But the instant it merged with the pitiful remainder of his own reserves, he knew.
'Shit.'
It wasn't enough.
