The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]

Chapter 218: Chapter 218 - Sleepless night

Meanwhile, on the far side of the galaxy, wrapped in silence and drifting through the endless sea of stars, sleep evaded Dican completely.

He lay flat on the narrow bed, his back pressed against the cold sheets, eyes locked onto the black metal ceiling above. The artificial lights had long since dimmed, the soft, regulated hum of the spaceship’s engines serving as the only reminder of movement. Beside him, Bian lay curled slightly on his side, his soft snoring rhythmic and undisturbed. One pale hand rested gently on Dican’s waist, the warmth of it a tether holding him in place.

But Dican couldn’t settle.

His eyes, faintly reflecting the dull glow of the emergency lights, flicked downward to the hand laid over him. He stared at it for a long moment—at the way Bian’s fingers curled slightly, at how natural it looked resting against his side. There was no discomfort in it. And yet... something inside him stirred, an emptiness he couldn’t explain.

A hollow ache nestled in the pit of his chest.

He was warm. Safe. Bian had risked everything to save him, and now they were here—together. But why then did it feel like something important was missing?

Something just out of reach.

His brow furrowed.

Quietly, gently, Dican lifted Bian’s hand and placed it carefully back against the blankets. The boy shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling again. Dican hesitated for only a second more before slipping out of the bed.

The floor was cold under his bare feet. The familiar sting grounded him.

He padded silently across the room and opened the tall cupboard embedded into the wall panel. It hissed softly as the mechanism disengaged, revealing neatly folded clothes, a small mirror, and a narrow shelf of personal items. He stared inside, not moving—almost as if he had forgotten what he had come to find.

What was he looking for?

Why couldn’t he remember?

He leaned his forehead against the cool metal edge of the cupboard, his eyes squeezed shut.

There was a face in his mind.

A blurry smile. A crooked laugh. Fingers tugging at his sleeve.

It was someone... someone he had left behind.

His hands gripped the edge of the frame tightly.

His chest felt tight—like if he didn’t remember soon, he’d lose something precious forever. But no matter how hard he tried to summon it, the image danced just out of reach.

He let out a breath, shaky and low.

Something was missing.

And Dican didn’t know if he would ever feel whole again until he remembered what—or who—it was.

He stood alone in the quiet corner of the massive spacecraft, the low hum of the engines barely audible behind the walls. Most of the lights were dimmed, running on power-saving mode as the ship drifted in passive trajectory after passing the black hole. The darkness outside was absolute, stars nowhere to be seen—just a void they had slipped into. A void he still didn’t quite understand.

He wasn’t sure what brought him to the cupboard. Maybe hunger. Maybe habit. Maybe some thread of instinct tugging him toward the familiar. He opened the upper panel with a small hiss of air release, and inside, tucked in the corner beneath some vacuum-sealed rations, he found it.

A small glass jar, its label long worn off. A smear of something dark inside caught the light. Dican frowned, fingers slowly reaching out. The glass felt chilled, despite the ambient temperature of the room. It made him shiver as he lifted it closer.

He turned it in his hands, studying it like it held answers. Then, slowly, cautiously, he opened the lid. A faint hiss escaped, and inside, preserved perfectly, was jam—dark, rich pink. Strawberry? Or some fruit he no longer remembered?

He dipped a single finger in.

The moment the taste touched his tongue, it was like something exploded in his chest.

Sweet.

Soft.

Warm.

A flicker—a blurred image. Small hands holding the jar. A laugh. Sunlight.

Someone calling his name with a smile in their voice.

He stumbled back a step, breath hitching. He grabbed the edge of the counter, blinking hard. That taste—he knew it. He didn’t know from where, or who, or when. But it was his. It belonged to a past that was still fogged over in his mind, but he could feel it like a pressure in his chest, like a distant song you once danced to as a child.

He closed the lid gently and held the jar close to his chest, staring into the nothing outside the glass window of the ship.

”I... know this,” he whispered. ”I know this.”

But no one was there to hear him.

Bian woke with a soft groan, his eyes still heavy with sleep. The low humming of the spaceship surrounded him, familiar and soothing. But the faint rustling from the far end of the room made his brows furrow.

”What’s wrong?” he mumbled, barely lifting his head.

Dican, caught in the middle of hastily closing a cupboard, paused. His hand trembled slightly as he sealed the storage compartment, the faintest glow from the golden jar fading beneath the sliding panel.

”Just... bit hungry,” Dican replied quietly.

Bian huffed and rolled onto his side, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his wrist. His silver-blond hair stuck out in every direction like a ruffled chick. ”Didn’t you eat like a pig just a few hours ago? What’s wrong with you...” he grumbled, his voice half-muffled by the pillow. ”You disturbed my sleep.”

He let out a low groan and flopped back down, tugging the thermal blanket over himself again with sluggish fingers. Dican stood there frozen for a moment, shame flickering in his eyes. He mumbled a soft, nearly inaudible apology and turned off the storage light before slipping back into his cot.

The bed dipped slightly as he lay down, yet Bian didn’t turn to face him. Still, the steady rhythm of the younger boy’s breathing began to slow again, inching back toward sleep.

But Dican remained awake.

He stared up at the sterile, curved ceiling of the Farian ship, the image of the glowing red stone swirling behind his eyelids. It wasn’t just hunger. It was the ache again. The one that started after they passed the black hole. A slow burning sensation at the center of his chest, pulsing, whispering things he didn’t yet understand. He felt the jar call to him sometimes—especially in the quiet.

He reached a hand up to his chest, pressing his palm over his heart.

He hoped Bian wouldn’t notice.

He hoped this... change wasn’t something that would take him away from Bian.

Because right now, that was the one thing he couldn’t bear.

*******

Bian woke up feeling oddly rested. The artificial light of the spaceship filtered through the frosted panel above him, mimicking a gentle morning. His limbs felt weightless, his body lighter than usual—likely still adjusting to the gravitational fluctuations after crossing the black hole. Stretching his arms, he sat up and looked around.

The room was clean and minimal, almost too quiet. No sound of birds, no buzzing of insects—just the faint hum of machinery in the background. He stood up, his feet pressing softly against the synthetic floor as he walked to the adjoining lavatory.

When he came back, hair damp from a quick rinse and skin feeling fresh, he noticed Dican still in the room. The prince hadn’t moved from the seat he’d claimed last night. His eyes were fixed quietly on the small cupboard embedded in the wall—expression unreadable, his forehead’s red gem glowing faintly in the low light.

Bian paused at the doorway, towel draped over his shoulders. ”Morning,” he murmured, but Dican didn’t respond.

He sat beside him on the edge of the bed—close, but not too close.

”What is wrong with you, huh!” he asked grumblingly, his voice tight with irritation.

He had been watching the man for a while now—his blank stare, the way his fingers trembled occasionally, his breath uneven even in rest. The silence was thick in the sterile room, broken only by the gentle hum of the machines monitoring every function of the body that lay on the bed. But Dican... Dican was right there beside him, and something was off.

He was pissed by the man’s distracted state. The way Dican’s gaze kept slipping off into nowhere, not focusing on the patient or anything really. It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like him.

Suddenly, without thinking, Bian’s hand shot out. He grabbed Dican’s face, rougher than he intended, fingers gripping tightly along his jaw. Dican flinched slightly but didn’t resist.

”Hey—look at me,” Bian snapped. ”What is wrong with you?” His voice cracked on the last word, a sudden urgency breaking through the irritation.

He peered deep into Dican’s eyes, trying to read something—anything. There was a glint there, something dark and distant.

”...Are you okay?” Bian asked again, quieter this time.

A slow fear began creeping up inside his chest. The kind that made his stomach twist. Dican wasn’t responding properly. His eyes blinked too slow, like someone waking from a dream that had gone on too long.

”...Are you awake?” Bian asked, this time barely a whisper.

Dican nodded... then shook his head.

”I... I don’t know...” he murmured, voice barely audible.

Bian’s grip loosened on his friend’s face, his fingers trembling now too. He swallowed hard.

Something was wrong. Deeply wrong.

”The medicine,” he said, almost to himself, ”it’s wearing out faster...”