Chapter 85: The Kiss

Another month passed in a blur of slow, agonizing recovery. The kingdom slowly began stitching itself back together after the Thorns’ crimes had been laid bare before the entire nation, and after weeks of investigations, testimonies, and evidence gathered from both the Reaper Force and the royal investigators, Adrian Thorn was sentenced to life imprisonment. The sentence sent shockwaves through the kingdom, marking the definitive end of one of the most powerful noble military families in recent history.

Meanwhile, the Reaper Force was formally integrated into the realm’s high-level defense architecture and granted an official headquarters on the outskirts of the capital. The revelation of the organization’s existence had initially caused considerable concern for both the King and Queen until Darius laid out their entire history.

He explained how the original founder, once a notorious underworld boss, had restructured his organization into an elite shadow intelligence agency. When rival cartels ambushed the man years ago, a younger Darius had stumbled across him while hiding out, shielding him until support arrived. Having never forgotten that debt and learning that Darius had been raised without a true family in an orphanage, the man took Darius under his wing as his own son and spent years teaching him everything he knew.

The man died years later from complications related to an old injury, bequeathing his entire empire to Darius. Since then, the title of Reaper had ceased being a person’s name and had become a position. Whoever led the organization inherited the title. And now that person was Darius. The explanation had answered many questions, though not all of them. Still, it was enough for the royal family to accept the organization as an ally rather than a threat.

While political affairs settled into a fragile peace, Darius devoted himself to the far more frustrating battle of recovery. A month-long coma had left his body weakened. His muscles had deteriorated significantly, and even standing for extended periods exhausted him. Every day, physicians and rehabilitation specialists visited the palace to oversee his recovery. Walking exercises, balance training, muscle strengthening, and mobility therapy became part of his daily routine. And through every brutal session, Basil was there by his side.

At first, everyone assumed the prince’s dedication would fade after a few days, but it never did. If anything, he became even more attentive. Every morning, he was there before Darius woke up, remained through every meal, and oversaw every step of his medical care throughout the day. He would not retreat until he had made sure Darius was comfortably settled in for the night. Sometimes, he would even doze off while waiting for Darius to fall asleep. It was almost as though he had attached himself permanently to Darius’s side.

The realization amused Darius far more than he cared to admit. After learning that Basil had spent nearly every day of his coma sitting beside his bed, refusing to leave, Darius had found himself strangely touched. If he had known a month-long coma would earn him this much attention from Basil, he might have considered putting himself into a coma sooner.

"Alright, Your Highness, that’s enough for today," Darius’s rehabilitation physician said, stepping back as Darius completed his final length across the therapy room.

Darius exhaled a sharp breath, sweat glistening along his temples and dampening the collar of his shirt. Before he could take another step, Basil was already at his side, steadying his elbow and carefully guiding him back into the automatic wheelchair. "You know I can walk now, right?" Darius muttered dryly, though his chest was still heaving from the exertion.

"I know you can walk, but just humor me," Basil replied smoothly, adjusting the footrests for him. "Besides, the doctor specifically advised against overusing your legs so early in the recovery phase. I’m just being cautious."

Darius clicked his tongue, leaning his head back against the cushion. "You keep making me feel like an invalid. I can use my legs just fine, and the more I use them, the better they’ll get."

"I just don’t want to take chances, Darius," Basil said, stepping behind the chair and taking hold of the handles. "Let’s get you back to your suite. It’s time for lunch."

A quiet, faint smile touched Darius’s lips as Basil turned the chair toward the doors.

Over the past weeks, he had grown surprisingly fond of these moments despite his complaints. Being fussed over by Basil was easily one of the best parts of his recovery, and he found himself looking forward to it more than he should.

The elevator ride passed comfortably. Neither felt any pressure to fill the silence anymore.

When they finally reached Darius’s suite, Basil brought the chair to a halt right beside the large bed. He moved to hook his arms under Darius’s shoulders to help him up.

"I can stand on my own. Jeez, Basil, calm down," Darius laughed softly, pushing lightly at Basil’s wrists. "You are turning into an absolute mother hen. I love this side of you, truly, but you need to relax and let me do some things for myself."

Something flickered briefly across Basil’s expression, but he didn’t step back. His expression remained tight, his hands firm on Darius’s arm. "Just let me do this for you, Darius. Let me help, please. This all happened because of my biological family... I still feel—"

"Basil, don’t." Darius cut in, his voice dropping into a serious, steady tone. "I’ve already told you. None of this is your fault. Not a single part of it. You do not need to carry that guilt."

Basil met his gaze, his eyes dark with unspoken weight. "If you truly believe that, then let me keep helping you without complaining. Just let me do it for my own peace of mind. I’ll always feel this guilt, even if I don’t want to. It can’t be helped."

He let out a quiet breath and looked away briefly.

"Just let me do this for you to appease my conscience."

Darius searched his face for a long second before letting out a defeated sigh. "Okay. Fine."

He just wished Basil wouldn’t carry so much responsibility for something that had never been his fault to begin with. Basil leaned in, wrapping one arm firmly around Darius’s back while taking his arm with the other, carefully supporting his weight as Darius maneuvered out of the chair.

They took one small step toward the edge of the mattress, but as Darius tried to pivot his legs, his weak left knee suddenly buckled beneath him.

"Watch out—"

Both of them lost their balance as the world lurched and gravity took over.

They tumbled backward onto the broad mattress, tangled together in a flurry of sheets, with Darius landing directly on top of Basil, his forearms coming down on either side of Basil’s head to absorb the brunt of the fall.

The room fell instantly, suffocatingly quiet.

Neither of them moved or seemed willing to acknowledge the position they had ended up in. The easy familiarity that had existed moments earlier vanished, replaced by a sudden, electric tension that thickened the air between them.

Darius was hovering mere inches above him, his chest rising and falling in shallow, heavy breaths against Basil’s own. Basil lay beneath him, his hands still gripped tightly around Darius’s upper arms, his knuckles white against the dark fabric of his brother’s shirt.

Basil looked up, his gaze locked onto Darius’s eyes. The proximity was absolute, so close Basil could feel the warmth of Darius’s breath against his skin, so close that every subtle beat of Darius’s racing pulse seemed to echo through the narrow space between them.

For several long seconds, neither of them made a move to separate from the awkward situation.

Then, before he could stop himself, before his brain could catch up to his mouth, Darius blurted it out. "Gosh, I just want to kiss you right now."

A flash of genuine, stunned surprise passed over Basil’s face, his green eyes widening as the words hung suspended in the quiet space between them. Darius immediately felt his stomach drop as he realized what he had just said. Panic flickered across his features as he tried to push himself up, his weak legs scrambling for leverage against the mattress.

"I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Basil, it was a mistake. Please, I didn’t mean to—"

Basil suddenly reached up, cupped the back of Darius’s neck, and closed the distance, pulling him down into a kiss. Darius stiffened in absolute shock, his hands locking rigid against the sheets as Basil’s lips met his.

The kiss was soft and brief, lingering just long enough to leave Darius stunned even after Basil pulled away and lowered his hand.

Darius remained suspended above him, staring down at Basil in utter disbelief. His mind reeled in chaotic circles, completely unable to process the fact that Basil had just kissed him on the mouth.

Basil lay there beneath him, quietly searching Darius’s stunned expression as every kind of emotion passed through it. A faint flush spread across Basil’s cheeks, but he wasn’t going to let this moment slip away when he had finally gathered the courage to make the first move.

​"You can kiss me if you want," he whispered, his voice laced with a subtle uncertainty.