The Fake Son Wants to Live [BL]-Chapter 111 - Similar yet different

Decan felt something brush against his forehead.

A warm touch.

His eyes twitched, and slowly, he began to wake. Everything ached. His body felt stiff, his head heavy. For a moment, he was confused.

Why... why was I out?

Then the memories started to come back—slowly at first, then more clearly.

He had taken the emergency capsule. He remembered punching in coordinates, rerouting from the mother ship to Earth. The ship had been in danger. He had to get out. Had to reach the planet. But then, everything went wrong. The system shorted. The control board went dead. He had no choice but to brace for impact as the pod caught fire entering the atmosphere.

He grimaced.

I must’ve crashed...

He groaned and opened his eyes.

The ceiling above him was cracked and stained, unfamiliar. The ground underneath was cold. He turned his head slightly and saw someone sitting beside him. A boy. Probably around sixteen or seventeen.

The boy was staring at him with a soft, nervous smile. As soon as their eyes met, the boy leaned a little closer.

"Hey... are you okay?"

Decan blinked. The voice... the face...

Wait. He recognized him.

It was that same boy he’d seen once—briefly—at the construction site owned by one of their companies. Just a quick glance from a distance, but the face stuck. There had been something unusual about him then. Dirty, sneaky, and kind of a mess, but sharp-eyed. It was strange to see him here now.

"You..." Decan said quietly, his throat dry. "I saw you before."

The boy looked a little surprised, but then smiled wider, trying to hide it. "Guess I left an impression."

Decan tried to sit up, but his limbs were sore and weak. The boy immediately put a hand out, unsure whether to help or not.

"You should rest," the boy said softly. "You almost got blown up."

Decan looked around the room slowly. "Where...where am I?"

"One of the classrooms," the boy replied. "It’s still intact. I....I didn’t know where else to take you."

He seemed to hesitate, then added, "I pulled you out of the pod. It exploded right after I dragged you a few feet away."

Decan raised his eyebrows, confused. "You carried me?"

The boy gave a lopsided smile. "Tried to. You’re heavy."

Decan didn’t say anything, just stared at him.

He sat up a little straighter, his brows furrowing slightly as he peered intently at the boy’s face.

There was something strange.

He had definitely seen him before — at the construction site, yes — but even now, even with the face clearer and closer, something felt... off. Like he was both familiar and a stranger at once. He didn’t dwell on the thought for too long. Right now, there were more pressing matters.

He winced and brought a hand up to the back of his head, feeling a sharp throb.

"Where’s my pod?" he muttered.

The boy pointed toward the broken window. "Outside. But... it’s in bits."

Decan sighed and dragged his legs around, sitting up fully. His body ached, but he could move. That was enough. He stretched his arms slowly, his joints stiff, muscles sore.

His priority now was simple: find his younger brother.

The pain in the side of his neck told him exactly what had happened — the transmission device embedded just under the skin had been forcibly removed. He could imagine the scene already. His little brother, panicked, scared, maybe crying... reaching for the one connection they had left, tearing it out with his bare hands.

He must’ve been so hurt. So exhausted...

Before he could stand, a hand gently reached out and touched his.

"Wait," Bian said, his voice quiet. "You have to rest. You got injured really bad."

Decan looked down.

The boy’s hand was small, a bit cold, but careful — like he was afraid he’d break something. His fingers trembled a little before he pulled back shyly, avoiding eye contact.

"Please," he added, a little softer. "Don’t hurt yourself."

For a moment, Decan just stared at him. Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Thank you," he said. "For helping me."

He reached out, this time taking Bian’s hand in his own.

A soft golden glow spread from Decan’s palm, warm and steady. The light slid over Bian’s arm, curling up his shoulder, spreading over his chest, then down to his legs — silent, fast, and almost unreal.

The cuts on his face faded. The bruises on his arms disappeared. The swelling along his broken wrist eased, bones shifting back into place.

Bian’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Decan let go, the light fading from his hand. "This is my thanks," he said simply. "For saving me."

Without another word, he stood and left.

He stepped out of the broken-down classroom, only to be greeted by the full sight of the massive crater carved into the earth.

His breath caught for a moment.

The scale of it... jagged edges, burned grass, shattered stone. It looked like a meteor had struck.

His heart thudded.

If the emergency pod hadn’t been built for impact resistance, if its heat shielding had given out just a second earlier—he might’ve burned up before even reaching the ground. Not even ashes would’ve been left. Just another body lost to Earth’s soil.

And his family...

They might have lost another son.

A shiver ran down his spine.

He swallowed hard and shook his head, brushing those thoughts aside. He crouched down carefully and began sliding down the edge of the crater. Loose pebbles tumbled beneath his feet, dust rising as he made his way lower. Each step jarred his still-recovering muscles, but he kept moving.

Behind him, he heard the soft crunch of gravel.

He glanced back.

The boy—was following him again, a quiet shadow in the moonlight. When their eyes met, the boy immediately dropped his gaze to the ground, saying nothing. His hands were clenched into his sleeves, and he walked slower, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to come closer.

Decan looked away without a word and continued toward what was left of his pod.

The silver shell was bent inwards, panels torn open, wires hanging loose. In the moonlight, everything was a wreck. He knelt beside it, sifting through debris—melted metal, bits of scorched cloth, and broken circuits. His communication device... completely gone. The transponder—fried.

No way to send a signal. No way to track his brother.

His jaw clenched, but his fingers kept moving. Among the mess, something caught his eye.

The familiar weight of it.

He pulled it out—a sleek, long blade with a silver hilt. His falcon sword.

At least this had survived.

He wiped off the ash and dust, and with practiced ease, sheathed it into the slot at his belt.

Behind him, the boy stood still at the edge of the crater, watching quietly.

The silence stretched between them. The moon hung low. And in the distance, the wind rustled through the broken walls of the old school.

Decan stood, his eyes scanning the horizon.

He had no communication, no working tech, and no clue where his brother was.

’what a great landing...’