In the Steppes of Central Asia
"What, seeing spots? Not the first time it's happened to me."
Minoth could wave off all bodily concern far too easily, just by showing an armful of failed IV insertions. Chronic pain or fatigue wasn't something that happened to Minoth. Minoth was something that happened as a single ungainly operation, opaque to his surroundings not just because he wanted it that way but because that was the way he was.
He'd stumble, now, and play it off as physical comedy. Throw in a few "woah"s and even a "yep, there it is" for good measure.
He'd be uncatchable because, in his mind, he hadn't been thrown.
But Addam caught him anyway.
"You treat everything like you've seen it all before," Addam said, softly. Minoth's clammy forehead was resting in the crook of his elbow, nestled between metal and metal. The weight of him was such that Addam could not tell if this was Blade heavy or unconscious heavy. But of course he would bear it up no matter the cost.
"We're not all waiting for you to foul up, you know. Personally, I wouldn't mind if you learned a thing or two on my watch."
Knowing Minoth didn't need to be any more a privilege than it already was. But in every cherished relationship, didn't the members wish always for deeper, for broader, for nooks and crannies and little things?
And now there was sleep. There was rest, anyway. Perhaps sleepless (or perhaps restless sleep). It came over the pair regardless.
Then, Minoth would awaken, proclaim, "Wow! I slept like shit," and resume where he'd left off, standing apart and akimbo.
To his credit, though, Addam did at least try to tug him down. For the briefest moment, something like acknowledgement pulsed (if a flash were a murmur) on Minoth's face.
"Promise me something?"
Addam waited until the eye contact returned. Very patiently, he waited. No "hey"s or "okay"s, just time in supplication.
"Yeah?"
"Promise me you'll take a real rest after this? Just stay with us, and oversleep, and eat good food, and write?"
Minoth didn't answer. He almost tried looking away, but settled for casting the downward motion into his lips. Purse. Bite. Snort. There was the champing horse.
"You don't even have to stay forever," Addam added, and it was obvious that he was conflicted about it. "Just...a while."
"A while?"
Addam nodded.
"Can't say I've ever done a while before."
And this was a blatant lie, so Addam was the one to break the eye contact and shove Minoth away (was he lighter, somehow? just now?). "Make it happily ever after, then! Because I know you've not had that."
Maybe he had. Maybe he hadn't. Minoth wouldn't say.