Let Me Heal You

Heat pressed down on Neon like a living thing, thick and suffocating. The air was heavy, drenched in an unfamiliar humidity that clung to his skin, to his suit, to his wounds. The light was worse. Harsh, golden, and relentless.

Neon pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp protest in his ribs. His body felt like a collection of broken pieces barely held together by sheer will. He turned away from Aria, focusing instead on the boundary- the place he’d crossed, the invisible line that had somehow trapped him here. If he could just...

Pain. A sharp, unseen force wrenched him back the moment his fingers brushed the boundary. He staggered, barely catching himself before collapsing onto one knee. His breath came fast, ragged. It was like something had seized his spine and pulled him backward, forcing him to stay here.

His stomach twisted with nausea, his skin burning with frustration.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at her. Aria wasn’t any better off. She sat across from him, arms crossed tight as if bracing against something unseen. Every few minutes, she shifted, eyes flicking toward him before looking away, like she was forcing herself to acknowledge his presence but couldn’t stand to hold it for long.

Neon forced his hands into fists, his breathing heavy. This was impossible.

Finally, Neon exhaled sharply, breaking the silence.

“So...”

Aria’s gaze snapped to him, annoyed.

He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at her without facing her directly. “We gonna sit here forever, or do you actually have a plan?” 

She scoffed. “Oh, so now you want my help?”

Neon’s jaw clenched. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She shifted, resting her arms on her knees. “And anyway, I don’t see you coming up with any brilliant ideas.”

He exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. She wasn’t wrong. But he wasn’t about to admit that.

His gaze flicked down to his side, where blood had soaked through his suit. The wound was bad. Worse than he wanted to acknowledge. The burning ache hadn’t let up since he’d woken here, and if he was being honest, the edges of his vision had started to blur.

Aria must have noticed. She shifted, turning her sharp gaze toward him. “You’re really injured.”

Neon stiffened.

She was staring at him with an unreadable expression, her eyes flicking over the wound on his side. He ignored the pain radiating through him, the sticky warmth of blood seeping into his suit. He’d dealt with worse.

She hesitated, then sighed. “Let me heal you.”

“No.” The answer came quick, sharp.

Aria let out a humorless breath. “Are you serious?”

“I’d rather die.”

She stared at him. Long. Hard. Unblinking. Then she huffed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Is your pride really that important to you?”

My pride is the only thing I still have left, he thought. 

She exhaled sharply without waiting for an answer, rolling her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re the enemy.”

Her expression darkened, the resentment in her eyes flickering into something more dangerous. “That’s right. And yet, I’m still offering to help.”

“Why?”

She hesitated, just for a second. Why really?

Neon narrowed his eyes, watching her closely. She didn’t owe him anything. She had every reason to let him die. But there was something conflicted in the way she looked at him. He knew that look. He’d seen it before in soldiers who had hesitated just before pulling the trigger.

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “Maybe because I don’t like watching people suffer.”

Neon didn’t respond.

Aria inhaled sharply, then straightened. “Look, for the last time, either you let me help you, or you bleed out. Makes no difference to me.”

But it did.

Neon saw the way her fingers twitched, the way her mouth pressed into a thin line. She didn’t want to care. But she did.

And that confused him. Why would a Militian help a Nyxian?

Neon narrowed his gaze, watching her carefully. He wasn’t used to this. People either feared him, hated him or followed orders. But she hesitated. She questioned. And she was still here, still offering to help.

He didn’t trust it. But his body was failing him.

“...Fine.”

Aria simply nodded and moved closer, cautious. The moment she neared him, a strange, simmering warmth prickled across his skin- not from the heat of the environment, but from something else. The tether. He forced himself to stay still.

She knelt beside him, examining the wound with a detached sort of precision, like she was looking at something broken, not someone. Her fingers hovered over him, hesitating for a fraction of a second before she pressed her palms against the torn fabric of his suit, never touching bare skin.

A pulse of warmth bloomed beneath her hands.

Neon’s breath caught.

It spread through him slowly at first, a strange, numbing heat curling through his veins. The pain dulled, the pressure easing, but the sensation itself was unnerving. It wasn’t like Nyxian tech. This was alive. Foreign. Wrong.

Aria was methodical, efficient- cold, almost. There was no softness in the way she worked, no comfort. Only necessity. And yet… she was careful. Distant. 

His fingers dug into the dirt. “What are you?”

Aria didn’t pause. “A soldier.”

His breath was shallow. “For Militia?”

“Obviously.”

Neon forced his body to stay still. The heat was starting to fade now, his wound knitting together beneath her touch. He felt… lighter. Stronger. But it wasn’t his own strength. It was hers.

When she finally pulled away, he felt his skin cool in the absence of her hands. 

A long silence stretched between them.

Then, finally, Aria spoke. “So… you’re human, right?”

Neon blinked. “What?”

“You eat, you sleep, you were born from a woman, that sort of thing.”

His brows furrowed. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

She shrugged. “Just making sure.”

His expression darkened. “Do Militians really think we’re monsters?”

Aria hesitated. Yes. 

But she didn’t say it. Instead, she met his gaze evenly. “You’re the ones burning our homes.” 

“And what, Militia hasn’t done the same?”

Her eyes flickered, something sharp behind them. “You attacked first.”

“You stole our land.”

She let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“Afraid of the truth?”

Aria’s jaw tightened. “I should’ve let you bleed out.”

Neon smirked. “You had the chance.”

Another long silence.

Eventually, Aria exhaled, rubbing her temples. “Look. We can’t stay here.”

His expression darkened. “And whose fault is that?”

She ignored him. “We need shelter. The only option is to go back to my training camp.”

Neon stiffened. “Absolutely not.”

“You have a better idea?”

“I’ll find a way back myself.”

He stood, determined, but the moment he stepped toward the boundary, it rejected him again. The invisible force slammed into him, throwing him backward. His knees hit the ground hard, dirt biting into his palms.

Aria tilted her head and crossed her arms. “How’s that going for you?”

Neon ground his teeth together, rage curling in his gut. He had no choice.

“Well?”

He let out a slow, controlled exhale. He hated this. Hated her. Hated needing her. But in the end, he met her gaze, resentful.

And nodded his approval.