Firestone Hot Springs i took an oath, it's killing me though

A soft light in the dark, gilded sunlight calling to him through the shadows. For a moment, he thinks he's dying — perhaps it's Helios in some pure form, devoid in death of all that had plagued him in life, come to take him to some higher plane so that he might become the same. But that's wishful thinking, isn't it? Death can't be so pretty and warm, or else it wouldn't be so feared; it must be something cold and desolate, a void without love or hope. Something like him.
No, this isn't death, or the ghost of Helios — it's another beautiful boy, come to witness yet another of his many humiliations. He blinks as he watches him, lurching upright when he starts to speak. A medic. The rest matters little. He's pretty and he can help, so Zephyr is sold. I — yes. Please, He hates how weak and strained his voice sounds, as if he's been yelling for hours. Suddenly self-conscious, he adds, I know I look like a girl, but — I'm not. The mind-fog of blood loss combined with nervous youthful attraction is a strange thing — but ultimately he doesn't think much of it, accustomed as he is to situations like this. If he let it stop him, he'd never have any time for anything else.