“August?” His voice echoed through the darkness. But the sound that greeted him was not August’s voice. Heavy, heaving coughs rattled through the air, thick and wet. So Booker hadn’t been lying.
As Micah’s eyes adjusted to the blackness, he made out a small, thin figure, huddled under a blanket, trembling and coughing, unresponsive to his presence. “August!” He raced forward, falling to his knees beside August’s shivering body. “August. Hey. Hey. Look at me. August!”
But August didn’t respond. His breathing was heavy. His body continued to shake and there was a heavy, wet rattle in his throat. His long gold eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. But he wouldn’t wake up.
“Booker! Booker! Delta! Help!” Micah cried out, clutching August tight to his chest, afraid that if he let him go, he would lose him. He had been so selfish. Such a fucking idiot. How hadn’t he seen? Had he truly been so blind? He hated himself. Hated that he had allowed it to get to this point. That now he might lose August forever.
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