Strange, Xion thought dully through the blurry haze of his consciousness.
He pressed his pale face deeper into the hard bed beneath him.
The buzzing in his head hadn't stopped. Ah, no—it wasn't buzzing anymore. It had evolved into a relentless, pulsing throb, as though his skull was being sawed apart from the inside.
His throat burned. There was a lingering metallic tang coating his tongue like rusted iron.
He gagged, or tried to, but his body was far too weak to even retch. A bitter taste sat unmoved on his breath.
He was drugged. The heaviness in his body told him at least that much.
The first thought that crashed into his mind after the realization was- Will he worry about me?
A weary breath slipped past his slightly purplish lips.
Darius would. Without a doubt, he would. And that was what alarmed Xion more than anything else.
I should have talked to him. Told him I was feeling tired…
His lashes, damp with both unshed tears and sweat, trembled faintly.
