chloe gong really just said “enemies to lovers is about looking someone in the eye and knowing all the darkest parts of them and knowing they know all the darkest parts of you and having a mutual respect and admiration for the other but being too unwilling to admit it and walking away because you love them too much to hurt them but not enough to give up your world for them and hoping that they find someone they deserve in the end” and expected me to walk away okay
Trope: when A is taken in by B, after being found hurt and unconscious
I open my eyes to the feel of something cold pressed against my chest. All I see is a blur of color, and all I can feel is pain. Pain in my side, my legs, the muscles of my arms, the sharp throb in my head.
Consciousness, it seems, is cruel—and I want to go back to sleep. But I can’t. Something feels wrong.
Then slowly, as I blink a few times, I see the metallic object take form into the metal shape of a stethoscope. They don’t press too hard against my chest.
Confused, I watch as the hand moves from one side of my chest to the other. They try to go lower, and I move my hand to stop them.
“You’re awake.” The voice comes from somewhere above me. Faintly, I recognize it. My pulse picks up.
I try and roll off the surface underneath me when their hand catches my shoulder, firmly rolling me back. At the touch, a soft whimper slipped through my lips— I bite down hard to silence the sound, but I know it’s already too late.
“Don’t move,” they say. Their words sound clipped—almost irritated. But the tone is gentle.
How… how could they find me? I shouldn’t be here. I had no memory of how I arrived.
Taking two at a time, I raced up the stairwell and pressed a hand against the stitch in my side, trying to ease the sting. Every breath sent a splinter of pain through my lungs. It hurt–the cramping in my calves; it rippled up my thighs, making my legs shake. But I couldn’t slow down–not if I wanted to escape.
I could hear the sounds of soldiers below, their shouts adding fuel to the burning panic within me. I pumped my legs faster, pushing harder. If I didn’t find a place to hide– if they ever found me–
With one final push, I leaped to the top landing and took a sharp turn to the right. The hallway stretched long and endless in front of me, with only a single window at the end for light, dark and cold like an underground crypt.
“This way!” someone shouted.
My heart stumbled inside my chest. Halfway through the corridor, a door flung open on my left, throwing me off. I slipped and put my arms out to brace myself.
They were going to find me— just like that, I’d announce my location to the whole fortress and— a single arm snatched me around the waist, yanking me off my feet.
The force of their grip made it impossible to shriek. I was flung inside with the door still open behind me. I gasped and struggled to catch my breath, ready to—
“Don’t,” a soft voice huffed.
My heart stopped at the warm sound of his voice. For some reason, my brain refused to accept what I was seeing. It was him, again. The same person who keeps popping up over and over again, in places they should never be. But– how? There’s no way–
I stumbled back. “What are you— how did you–?”
My brain couldn’t comprehend fast enough, spinning between one thought and the next. I put a hand to my head, attmetpmting to shush the cartwheeling voices, thoughts, memories.
A muffled crash near the door made me freeze. He cocked his head to the side, listening. Heavy and fast along the slabs of stone, I felt the soldier’s footsteps before I heard them, vibrating under my feet. They were coming up the stairs. In a matter of seconds, we would both be found.
Something hardened in his eyes as he grabbed my wrist and said, “Follow me.” Whether it was from shock or fatigue, I let him pull me deeper into the room, my brain feeling fried; useless. Nothing made sense. This whole situation felt like a nightmare—an impossible reality.
As he pulled me along, I twisted my head around to look at the room. The place looked like an old study converted into storage. Furniture sat under mammoth sized war paintings from ages past, both legendary and lived; a flash of history caught on canvas.
Some I recognized from stories of my childhood– epic battles fought between gods below and men above, at a time when mortal women and children were sacrificed to the gods for peace—when humans rebelled, becoming gods of their own. Golden orange light spilled into the room from the other side, magnified by the reflective surfaces stacked in crates haphazardly piled. We stopped at one of the bookcases in the room.
“There’s a small nook behind this bookcase,” he explained, reaching behind the shelves. There was a metallic click and the back panel of the bookcase cracked open, revealing a tiny crevice. I held my breath. Again, I was slammed with that impossible feeling.
This isn’t real, I started to think. I’m ill. I’m hallucinating. I couldn’t possibly—
“Get in,” he said, pushing me forward when my feet didn’t move. With one last glance over my shoulder, I ducked inside. He maneuvered himself beside me and pressed into a stone slab until the bookcase rotated back in place, leaving only a small crack for us to look through.
Trying to catch my breath, I turned to him in the dark and asked,“You found me– how did you-?” Before I could finish, several soldiers burst inside the room, cutting me off. A stabbing pain shot through my gut.
“Find her,” a soldier growled; voice like the bass of the executioner’s drum, pounding over and over again, just before the ax falls down, severing a head. My mouth went dry. “And when you catch her,” they continued, "burn her alive.“
I must have made a sound because he clamped his hand over my mouth, trapping the air inside.
Too late.
A soldier snapped their head to the side and stared straight at the bookcase.
The suddenness of it made me jerk, and with his hand over my mouth, he drew me into his chest, keeping me still.
“The hell was that?” a soldier asked, whipping around. The swirls on his helmet twisted like living vines of fire against the setting sun. Even through the narrow crack, their iron blades appeared tipped in blood. The sun reflected off their armor and flashed across my eyes, staining the back of my eyelids red with every blink. Red like the blood they wanted to spill. Or boil. I fisted my hands at my side.
What have I done?
“Probably a mouse,” a female voice. "Keep looking. This place’s older than shit."
Stalking forward, the female soldier ran her hand over the broken picture frames. She moved them aside one by one, looking for any trace of life. When she reached the bookcase, she paused, sweeping her hands over the shelves.
I held my breath; I prayed she wouldn’t notice the lever on the wall–the vertical crack exposing their hiding place. She knelt, and the darkness inside became pitch. All I could see was her. Her silhouette, her armor, her reaching hands. With the tip of her fingers, she pushed.
My heartbeat was frantic and wild, like prey caught between a predator’s teeth. But his heartbeat—his heartbeat was soft. Steady. So much calmer than my own.
I tried to focus on that, but my mind kept thrusting the image of me bound hand and foot to a wooden stake, dry as dust. Kindling underneath. Fire racing up.
If I was going to die, that was one thing. But I couldn’t let him die; not for helping someone like me. I would keep them distracted until he found a way out, and then–
Somewhere upstairs, footsteps scuttled over the ceiling, making every eye in the room look up.
“Hey,” a soldier said, sounding young. “Did you hea—?”
Again, the sound came, louder this time, followed by a crash.
"She’s upstairs,” a soldier hissed with aggravation. He turned towards a shorter figure and said with a tone of command, “Send your soldiers to the front. Search every cart, every home, every damned face. I want a perimeter around the building and a five-mile search party around the city; no one gets in or out, understood?”
“Sir,” they said saluting.
I dared not believe what I was hearing; what I was seeing. I held still, muscles tense, unwilling to move as the soldiers left the room and followed the captain out the door.
All except for one; the soldier who heard my voice.
They came forward with dagger front and center. I heard him growl low in his throat, but before he could take one more step forward, a shout of his name made him pause. He snarled once and with reluctant steps, turned and stalked away, not bothering to close the door behind him.
Finally, he released his hand from my mouth, and I found I could breathe again.He continued to hold me against his chest, nestled between his thighs. Like he didn’t dare let go. The adrenaline was wearing off and heat flared in my cheeks.
