Rhea's vision blurred without warning.
The edges of the room darkened, the blue emergency light smearing into streaks. Her head throbbed violently, a deep pounding behind her eyes that made her gasp.
Her nose was red from the cold. Her lips had gone pale—almost colorless. She swayed once, stubbornly straightening like she could will herself upright.
Ling noticed instantly.
Of course she did.
"Don't," Ling snapped, misreading it as drama. "Don't start acting—"
Rhea's knees buckled.
Her body went slack mid-step.
Ling cursed under her breath and moved on instinct, arms shooting out before thought could interfere. She caught Rhea against her chest, one arm locking around her back, the other gripping her shoulder hard enough to hurt.
"Rhea—"
Rhea's head lolled forward, forehead pressing into Ling's collarbone. Her breath was shallow, uneven. Her fingers twitched uselessly before curling into Ling's coat like muscle memory hadn't gotten the breakup memo.
Ling froze.
For one terrifying second, all the hatred drained out of her face.
"Hey," Ling said sharply, voice dropping despite herself. "Don't you dare."
Rhea didn't answer.
Her skin was freezing. Not cold—wrong.
Ling tightened her hold, jaw clenching. "Open your eyes," she ordered harshly. "Rhea. Look at me."
Rhea groaned faintly, lashes fluttering, unfocused eyes barely opening. "Don't… touch me," she whispered, even as her body leaned further into Ling for support.
Ling scoffed, breath shaky. "You're literally unconscious in my arms. Pick a stance."
She shifted her grip, hauling Rhea fully upright against her, one arm banded tightly around her waist now. Her palm pressed flat against Rhea's lower back, grounding, possessive, furious at the same time.
"You're freezing," Ling muttered, more to herself than Rhea. "Idiot."
Rhea tried to pull away weakly. "Don't… pretend now."
Ling's eyes burned. "I'm not pretending."
She shrugged off her coat roughly and wrapped it around Rhea's shoulders, movements aggressive like she was angry at the fabric itself. She pulled it tight, trapping Rhea against her chest with it.
Rhea laughed weakly, breath fogging. "You always do this," she murmured. "Hurt… then save."
Ling's hand stilled at her back.
"Shut up," Ling said hoarsely. "This isn't saving. This is damage control."
Rhea's head tilted back slightly, eyes glassy. "You left me."
Ling's grip tightened reflexively. "And you sold me."
Their faces were close now—too close. Ling could see every detail: the way Rhea's pupils struggled to focus, the faint blue tinge creeping at the edges of her lips, the violent shiver she was trying to suppress.
Ling's voice went cold on purpose. "If you pass out again, I'll slap you awake."
Rhea huffed a breathless sound that might've been a laugh. "Still violent."
"Still alive," Ling shot back.
She shifted them both, backing Rhea toward the wall so she could brace her more securely. Ling planted her feet wide, anchoring them both like the room itself couldn't pull Rhea down as long as Ling was standing.
"You don't get to collapse," Ling said quietly, anger laced with panic. "Not here. Not like this."
Rhea's fingers tightened in Ling's coat despite herself. "Then stop holding me like I matter."
Ling's eyes flickered.
Her answer came instantly, sharp. "You matter because you're a liability."
Rhea smiled faintly, eyes closing again. "Liar."
Ling swore softly and tilted her head down, forehead almost touching Rhea's hair—but not quite. Never quite.
"I hate you," Ling said through clenched teeth. "You make my body forget every decision I made."
Rhea whispered, barely audible, "You caught me."
Ling didn't deny it.
She adjusted her hold again—firmer, safer—one hand splayed possessively over Rhea's spine, the other gripping her arm like she might disappear if released for even a second.
The door stayed locked.
The cold pressed in.
They stood there—one barely conscious, the other burning with restrained terror—
pretending hatred while obsession did what it always did:
Overrode everything.
Ling lowered Rhea carefully to the floor near the wall.
Not gently—carefully. Like handling something already broken.
Rhea slid down until her back hit the steel, head lolling to the side. Her breathing was shallow now, uneven, fogging weakly in the air.
"Stay awake," Ling said sharply, crouching in front of her. "I didn't pull you out of my arms for you to die sitting."
Rhea didn't answer.
Ling turned abruptly, fury snapping back into place like armor. She slammed her shoulder into the door, then her palm, then kicked it hard enough to rattle the hinges.
"Open," she snarled. "Open the damn door."
Nothing.
She searched the walls next—hands sliding over frozen metal, fingers already stiff. No lever. No emergency release. No panel. She moved fast, controlled, refusing to panic, eyes scanning every corner.
"Think," she muttered to herself. "Think."
Her breath started to come out harsher. The cold that hadn't touched her before finally sank its teeth in. It crawled up her spine, into her joints, deep and unforgiving.
Ling straightened slowly.
Her hands were shaking.
She stared at them for half a second in disbelief—then clenched them into fists hard enough that her split knuckles bled again.
"No," she whispered angrily. "Not now."
Behind her, Rhea made a small sound—barely a whimper.
Ling spun back instantly.
Rhea's head had tipped forward. Her chin hit her chest weakly. Her eyes were half-open but unfocused, glassy, slipping away.
"Rhea," Ling snapped, striding back and dropping to her knees in front of her. She grabbed Rhea's face roughly, thumbs pressing into her cheeks. "Look at me."
Rhea didn't react.
Ling's jaw tightened. "Don't you dare."
She slapped Rhea's cheek—not hard, but sharp enough to sting.
Rhea flinched faintly, a weak groan escaping her throat. Her eyes flickered open for a second.
"There," Ling said harshly. "That's it. Stay."
Rhea's lips moved, barely forming sound. "…cold…"
"Of course you're cold," Ling snapped bitterly. "You always were. Always ran headfirst into things without thinking."
Rhea's head rolled slightly, resting against the wall. "You came," she murmured, barely audible.
Ling froze.
Then her face hardened instantly.
"I didn't come for you," she said coldly. "I came because you vanished. Don't romanticize it."
Rhea didn't respond.
Ling leaned in closer, pressing her forehead briefly against Rhea's temple before pulling back immediately, like she'd crossed a line.
"Stay awake," Ling ordered again, voice tight now. "You don't get to pass out and make me carry you again."
Her own teeth started chattering—small, involuntary clicks she hated. She swallowed hard, anger flaring at her own weakness.
She shifted closer to Rhea, blocking the draft with her body, even as she pretended it was just coincidence.
"Unbelievable," Ling muttered. "You sell me. You freeze yourself. And somehow I'm still here keeping you alive."
Rhea's breathing slowed further.
Ling noticed instantly.
"No," she said sharply, grabbing Rhea's shoulders and shaking her—once. "No. Don't do that."
Rhea's head lolled uselessly.
Panic flared hot and ugly in Ling's chest.
"Rhea," she said again, louder now. "Open your eyes. You hear me?"
Nothing.