taking care → daevi
The reassurance that Arabella was doing at least all right bolstered Levi some. He just wanted her to open her eyes… Just to look at him and laugh and call him a butt-head (her favorite insult at the moment). Dr. Hart pointed out that Levi was far from fine but it barely registered to the boy. Sleep-deprived? Malnourished? Maybe he couldn’t really remember the last time he had gotten a solid meal or slept more than a fitful twenty minutes. But… “That doesn’t matter,” he muttered hoarsely. Tears came to his eyes and he scrubbed them away, hot embarrassment coiling in her stomach. “I can’t leave her here alone,” he reasoned, hoping the older man would understand. “And I’m the only one from the family who can be here.” He couldn’t leave. This was his responsibility — Arabella was his responsibility.
Damien sighed out heavily and reached up to run a tired hand through his own hair as he shifted on his feet. He had a feeling something like this was going to happen, he was afraid of it. "Listen, Levi..." he started once more quietly, reaching forward to touch the other man's upper arm. "She's stabilized, and I will call you if there is any change, I promise you," he tried to argue, although he knew it wasn't going to work. He didn't know how to get through to him. "I promise it'll be okay..." he said quietly. What, was he going to have to pick the boy up and cart him home himself? It was appearing so.













