Arion stared through the glass, tears spilling faster than he could stop them.
Hot, frightened, humiliating tears that kept coming no matter how hard he tried to breathe around them. His chest hitched painfully. His whole body shook with it, and the awful thing under his skin kept moving, twisting through him in sharp, unnatural waves that made every attempt to calm down feel impossible.
He hated that Uncle Dax could see him like this.
He hated that the nurses could.
He hated that his father was a face on a screen and his mother was in another country and his body felt wrong and he was eight and hurting and everyone kept saying calm down as if calm were something he had misplaced on purpose.
A sob tore out of him.
Then another.
The physician said something about his numbers.
The nurse reached for his shoulder again.
And outside the glass, Chris swore softly.
Dax turned his head just enough to look at him.
Chris was already moving.
