IvanLuka

The sound coming from Luka’s chest wasn't a heartbeat anymore. It was a violent, frantic thrumming—a mechanical engine revving itself to pieces, beating so fast and so hard that it shook his entire frame. Luka was suffocating. His chest heaved in shallow, desperate jerks, his throat tight as he tried to claw oxygen into lungs that his failing heart could no longer support. Worse still were his hands. The faint, bruised purple tint that usually colored his fingertips from poor circulation was fading away entirely, turning a stark, bloodless, ghostly white as his cardiovascular system completely panicked and gave out.

"Luka. Luka, look at me!"

Ivan’s voice shattered the quiet room, completely stripped of his usual mocking, untouchable composure. He was entirely unraveled. In a flash, Ivan was on the bed, dragging Luka’s trembling body up against his chest to force him into a sitting position to help him breathe. His larger hands desperately clamped around Luka’s freezing, colorless fingers, rubbing them fiercely as if he could physically force the blood to flow back into them.

"Breathe, damn it, breathe!" Ivan snarled, though the aggression was a thin, fragile mask for the terrifying panic bleeding through his eyes. He grabbed a nearby oxygen mask, slamming it over Luka’s face with trembling hands, his other arm wrapping tightly around Luka's waist to hold his seizing body steady. "Don't you dare close your eyes. You look at me, Luka!" Ivan pressed his ear directly against Luka’s chest, listening to the horrifying, hyper-speed clicking of the defective valve. He was sweating, his own chest heaving as if he could breathe for both of them. He began pumping medication into Luka's IV port with reckless, terrified urgency.

"I am not letting you go," Ivan choked out, his voice cracking as he pressed his forehead against Luka's damp hairline, his grip tightening into a suffocating, desperate hold. "Fight it. Please. Fight it, Luka!"