Chapter 21
Days passed since Jace stood breathless in Elias’s office, tangled in lust and guilt. Now, he was home-alone-happy -for the first time in what felt like forever. The morning light streamed through the tall windows of his small apartment, casting a honeyed glow across the cluttered space. His easel, long abandoned, stood by the window like a forgotten lover. Today, he returned to it.
Jace’s fingers were already stained with streaks of cobalt and ochre as he dipped the brush again, slowly dragging it across the canvas. The face that began to form was not a person, not exactly. It was warmth, softness—hope. The painting was for Noah.
Noah, who had woken up three days ago.
Noah, who smiled weakly and squeezed his hand.
Jace had cried then. Quiet, private sobs that never reached anyone’s ears. For once, it wasn’t about pain—it was relief. The knot in his chest loosened just enough to let him breathe. So he painted.
Each stroke on the canvas was gentle but purposeful. A sky that bled from indigo into lavender. A boy—fragile but beaming—standing on the edge of a rooftop, his arms out like wings, the sun casting a crown around his curls. It was Noah, the version of him Jace always tried to protect. Not sick, not fragile. Alive. Free.
The more he painted, the more his thoughts drifted.
To Elias.
To the way Elias's fingers had bruised his hips in the office, the hunger in his kiss, the ache in Jace’s core when Elias whispered his name like it was a sin and a prayer at once. Jace had seduced him for a file, a purpose. But every time Elias touched him, Jace forgot. The world became scent—cedar, leather, musk. Pressure—hard palms and eager mouths. Sound—Elias’s growl in his ear, and Jace’s own broken moans in reply.
He closed his eyes.
He could still feel Elias behind him, panting against his neck as he gripped Jace’s waist and thrust into him, slow and deep. Every movement had been a claim, a punishment, a reward. It had made Jace burn.
A shiver rippled down his spine, and he forced himself to look back at the canvas. The colours glowed. It was beautiful. Raw and filled with feelings. For Noah.
Jace stepped back, chest rising with a sigh. This was right. This, he could give.
After cleaning up and changing into something clean—a simple dark shirt and jeans—he carefully wrapped the canvas in protective paper and headed to the hospital. The sun was brighter than usual, as if the world had momentarily forgotten sorrow.
\---
Noah was awake, sitting upright with pillows behind his back when Jace walked in. His little brother’s eyes lit up.
“Jace,” he rasped.
Jace smiled. For the first time in weeks, it didn’t feel forced.
“I brought you something.” Jace lifted the painting and gently unwrapped it.
Noah stared, wide-eyed. “You painted?”
“Yeah,” Jace said, pulling a chair close. “Thought you could use a little colour in here.”
Noah traced the brushstrokes with his gaze, the sunlit curls, the open sky. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered. “You haven’t painted in so long…”
“I know.”
“You look… different. you're glowing....Happy.”
Jace looked away, rubbing his palms on his jeans. “I’m just glad you are getting better.”
But Noah was not buying it. “It’s him, isn’t it?”
Jace froze."Who?" jace replies
Noah leaned closer. “Elias. He’s the reason you painted again.”
Jace’s mouth went dry. His jaw clenched. “No.”
“You can lie to yourself, but not to me,” Noah said softly.
Jace exhaled hard, fists curled. “I’m with Elias because I need to be. To destroy the Cranes. To avenge Mom and Dad. That’s the only reason. You of all people should know that”
Noah stared at him for a long moment. “And how long will you keep lying to yourself?”
Jace looked away.
“Jace…” Noah’s voice was gentler now. “I get it. I was angry, too. Still am, sometimes. But look at me. I’m getting better. We have each other. Why keep chasing revenge? Look at you—you’re painting, smiling, feeling again. Don’t you see it?”
“I can’t just forget what they did to our family,” Jace snapped, the guilt crashing into him like a wave. “I can’t. I won’t.”
Noah sighed and opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly, his face twisted in pain. He let out a deep, ragged cough.
“Noah?” Jace stood, alarmed.
Noah coughed again, more violently this time, his shoulders convulsing.
“Hey—hey, breathe. Here—” Jace grabbed the cup of water and held it to his lips. Noah drank but coughed again, harder.
“Noah!” Panic seized Jace’s chest. “Doctor! Nurse! Someone...please help!”
Within moments, two nurses and a doctor rushed in. Jace stepped back, his heart pounding as they surrounded the bed.
Noah’s body slumped. His head lolled to the side.
“Noah!”
“Sir, please step out,” the doctor ordered.
“But—”
“Now!”
Jace stumbled into the hallway, legs weak beneath him. His breaths came in shallow bursts. He leaned against the wall, gripping his chest.
Not again. Please, not again.
\---
An hour passed before they called him into the doctor’s office.
The doctor was a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a somber expression. She folded her hands on the desk.
“I’m sorry,” she said gently. “Noah has slipped back into a coma.”
Jace felt the room tilt.
“No,” he whispered.
“There’s a complication,” she continued. “His surgical wound became infected. We didn’t detect it until now. His immune system is weak. We’re doing everything we can, but the next few days will be critical.”
Jace couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. Again...he had to go through this again.Just a few moments ago he had been painting. Smiling. Lusting after Elias. As if the world wasn’t waiting to break him again.
He pressed his palms to his face, trembling.
“We’ll keep you updated,” the doctor said quietly.
He nodded, barely hearing her. Then turned and walked out of the room.
His steps were hollow as he returned to the hallway, where the silence of the hospital now felt like a scream.