As Wesley pulled away, or tried to pull away, he noticed it was Giles who was tightening his grip on him. Not, as he was so afraid of, the other way around. He was rather reassured by the, but he also knew, deep down, that he shouldn't give into Giles' easily offered reassurance.
Especially if this turned out to be no so very short temporary. He didn't want to think about it, but he did need to keep in mind all possibilities. One thing was positive about all this, Wesley thought bitterly. At least he didn't have to look at his destroyed garden. Of course he'd give just about anything to see that now. Not being able to see was a nightmare which was only just beginning.
Wesley blinked when suddenly there was a touch on his face and soon thereafter a second. He was getting frustrated because they startled him, not knowing Giles was going to do that. Touch him, be close to him, do...anything. Nor did Wesley know if it were Giles lips or his hands... at least not right away.
Bringing up his hand, he covered the one that was apparently on his face. Anything he needed. Wesley bit down on a laugh. What he needed right now was his eyesight back. "I don't really care at this point, love. I just didn't like the man." At all. Then again, what doctor did he like?
Giles watched Wesley for a moment longer, wishing his partner would glare at him for looking. But Wesley couldn't see that now and the thought made Giles' heart ache. He knew how terrifying loosing one's sight was and it had to be worse for Wesley, confining.
"I'll call now, then," he said softly, pulling the phone closer. The number was all but burned into his mind. He'd been thinking about this since last night, as much as he'd tried to push it away. He hadn't wanted it to wind up this way, but he'd known there was a chance . . . He made the appointment quickly and then called Willow and Tara. Tara was going to be leaving for LA, but she promised to be back before the evening and as soon as she returned they'd check Wesley for magic.
One day. God, Giles hoped they could fix this in just one day. Hanging up the phone, he turned back to Wesley, reaching out to take his lover's hand. "We need to get ready for your appointment, love."
The darkness around him was staring to feel suffocating, oppressing. But there wasn't anything he could do about that now, other then keep himself together. Not just for himself, but for Giles as well. He didn't think his partner needed his pathetic panic attacks ontop of everything else.
So he latched onto the man's voice as he made the phonecalls. First to this condescending arse of a doctor, then to Tara and Willow. Oddly enough Wesley had more faith in the two witches then in that blasted doctor. If this was an allergy, then it was a very severe one.
"Of course," Wesley muttered, nodding at his lover's words. He stumbled from the bed and realized that he had no idea which way the bathroom was. Or anything really. He'd lost all sense of orientation. The words, 'I'd know my way around with my eyes closed', had never before felt so ironic. He wasn't about to give up though. Stubbornly, he held his hands out and started into...any direction and hoping for the best.
Giles quickly stood, turning Wesley toward the bathroom, though he didn't try to guide his partner. "If you need me, I'm here, love," Giles said softly into Wesley's ear, hoping Wesley would indeed say something if he needed assistance.
He watched Wesley stumble toward the bathroom and dressed more quickly than he had in years, putting on comfortable jeans and a jumper. Then he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and shave . . . It wasn't that he wanted to be right there. He wasn't hovering. There was a good chance Wesley might need him, but he wasn't going to jump in unless Wesley asked or it was very necessary.
We'll fix this, he kept telling himself, until the words became a mantra in his mind. We'll fix this.
Murmuring a quiet thank you, Wesley made his way toward the bathroom. It was hard not to give into the mood that was quickly settling down on him. The one where he just wanted to curl up into a ball and hide under the covers until this was over and done with. He'd say hide in the dark, but that point was rather moot at the moment.
He didn't want to be needing help, but he realized that he was going to have to need help. This realization made him more upset and angry then most anything. He wasn't sick, but he still needed help. He couldn’t even find the blasted bathroom for gods sake! Swallowing a frustrated growl, he stumbled his way toward the bathroom. Cursing under way when he stubbed his toe more then once.
Once there he used the wall to guide his way over to the sink and then felt around for his toothbrush. Well, how convenient that he shaved with an electrical razor wasn’t it? Not that he could *see* what he was doing. Sighing he fumbled on his side of the sink and grabbed his toothbrush. Of course finding the toothpaste, a simple and automatic normally was proving to be something of great difficulty. He was still fumbling around getting more and more frustrated when he heard Giles enter. Funny, Wesley thought, how much one suddenly needs to relay on other senses when one falls away.
Taking up a position next to Wesley, close enough that their shoulders brushed, Giles reached for his own toothbrush, putting toothpaste on it and then putting the tube direction in the way of Wesley's grasping hand.
He was tempted to ask if Wesley wanted his help shaving, but he said nothing, instead brushing his teeth as if nothing were wrong and hoping that was the right thing to do. He knew Wesley was likely hating this, hating that he needed help, and Giles knew he'd only make Wes made if he tried to do too much for him too quickly. So, instead he would do little things, like the toothpaste, which might go unnoticed, and wait for Wes to ask for what he needed. He hoped Wesley would ask.
He more sensed and then felt Giles slide up next to him more then anything. Had it been anyone else but Giles, Wesley's body would be tensing by now. He still had this inbuilt urge never to accept or, heaven forbid, ask for help. So it was hard to even get something past his lips. He’d been trying so hard when he was sick, or wounded. But he wasn’t wounded, he had no physical pain to back him up and push him toward asking for help.
Biting down on a sigh, he fumbled around for the toothpaste again and miraculously found it in a place he knew it hadn’t been before. Of course then he heard his lover brush his teeth and realized how it had magically appeared within easy reach. That he could deal with. Those little ways of helping, the ones he could ignore but would feel guilty about not saying ‘thank you’ anyway. The fact that he was so needy made him even more mad.
Couldn’t even do the… Christ, he wasn’t even able to go to the toilet the ‘normal’ way. Not thinking to much about that, he quickly brushed his teeth. Not really knowing, nor caring how much toothpaste he squeezed onto the brush. Once that is done he fumbled with it for a moment before just putting it down on the sink. The hell with it, he still need to get dressed. Bloody hell, he felt like a two year old. Never mind shaving, that had been humiliating enough when he couldn’t do it for different reasons.
“I’m going to get dressed,” Wesley mumbled, feeling his way out of the bathroom again. It’s a good thing he had no taste, Wesley realized. He could can pull just about anything out of the closet when it came to that, it wouldn‘t match anyway.. Now…all he needed to do is find the bloody closet.
Giles shaved as quickly as he could. That done, he went out into the bedroom, moving to cut off Wesley's heading for the bedroom door. "Oh, sorry, love," he said casually, brushing his hand over Wesley's shoulder in a faux apology that pointed Wesley toward the closet.
There wasn't much for him to actually do in the bedroom, well, besides keeping an eye on Wesley, of course. He puttered around, shuffling things loudly so that it sounded as if he were busy, even though his eyes never left his partner as Wes pulled clothes out of the closet.
“Quite alright,” Wesley murmured, as though talking to loud might… He had no idea what it might do actually. Shatter his tightly held control? He was barely holding onto that with his fingernails, and considering how short they were… But it wasn’t hard to figure out what his lover was doing though. And Wesley felt a warmth spread though him when he realized how well Giles knew him.
The man would know how frustrated Wesley would get if his partner would be too obviously helping him out. But these things, these small things that could easily be put down to coincidence or a bumping into each other, that he could deal with. It was still hard, but at least he could keep up the pretense.
Stumbling his way to the closet, and just *when* did they get so many things laying or standing about to stub his toes at?, he let out a small breath when he found it. He didn’t think it was Giles’ closet he was poking through, since then the man would’ve been at his side to faux look for clothes. He used his touch to find a pair of jeans, a shirt and a sweater. It took him some time to find some boxers though.
Having no idea what he was pulling out made him rather self-conscious. Which was odd, considering he didn’t care one wit about fashion or what he was wearing normally. But if he was going out with a couple of mismatched clothes now, he’d look a fool and people would *know*. As though him fumbling around with his hands outstretched wouldn’t do that as well. But that wasn’t the point.
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, nearly toppling over the bed when he turned around and had started to shuffle toward it. It was closer by then he thought.
"Hmm?" Giles did his best to pretend he hadn't been watching Wesley's every move, to sound distracted. "Yes, that's fine. Tara' will be here to pick up Connor in a little while, so we'd best wake him and I'll make a quick breakfast. I doubt he's packed, but that shouldn't take too long."
Giles did his best to keep talking, apparently thinking aloud. He wasn't sure how well Wes was going to be able to get around, especially going down the stairs, so he went first and kept an eye on Wesley, all the while trying to keep his voice casual.
Wesley frowned when Giles said it was fine, the tone in his voice indicating that the man wasn't really paying attention to that. Suddenly self-conscious, Wesley ran a hand over his shirt, wondering if he could just feel its color. Of course that didn't work, unless it was silk.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as Giles continued to keep on talking. No doubt to... to what? Function as some sort of guide dog to Wesley? That thought only managed to irritate him and he wished his lover would shut up. Which was completely unreasonable, he knew that. Which was why he clenched his teeth together to stop from talking.
He followed the sound of his partner's voice, holding his hands out to feel his way around. When he found the wall, he used that to find his way toward the stairs. Now those would be tricky. Well, not the stairs perse, but more like figuring out what the last step might be.
Stubbornly, he put his foot down on the first stair, then the second and moved down. Giles would probably tell him when the last step would be, and otherwise he'd fall. It didn't matter, he had to learn anyway. Mentally, he was counting the steps as he slowly made his way down.
Giles kept a close eye on Wesley, making certain his partner wasn't going to fall down the steps. He stood close enough that Wes would brush against him when he reached the last step. He reached out, pretending to pick lint from Wesley's shirt when, in truth, he simply wanted to touch Wesley.
He wanted to do more to help, but he didn't want Wes to feel any worse. "You look very handsome," Giles said, smiling has he ran his fingers over the collar of Wesley's shirt. "I don't think I've ever seen you in that shirt. The blue matches your eyes."
It was rather ironic, Giles thought with a sad smile, that Wesley dressed better when he couldn't see what he was putting on. It wouldn't be for long. Just for a day, he assured himself.
Wesley concentrated on counting the steps, memorizing just how much of them there were for the next time he had to take the stairs. He couldn't always count on Giles to be there and play 'catch net'. Nor did he really want the man to do so. Wesley didn't know how long this was going to last. But the sooner he got used to it, the better it was going to be for everyone in the long run.
When he felt his lover's hand on him, his steps faltered. It was, he figured, probably Giles way of saying they were at the last step. He took it and noticed the difference of the wooden steps and the carpet on the floor. Right, that was a good indication, he had to remember that.
Of course then Giles spoke up and Wesley turned his face toward him. "Do I?" he said, forcing the bitterness out of his voice. As if he was supposed to know what the hell he was wearing? Nor did he know if his eyes were still blue. Hell, for all he knew they might be bloodshed red.
"Well thank you," Wesley mumbled, using the wall to move further. He just knew that the hallway was straight ahead, so the livingroom must be to the left. He could manage that, and then it shouldn't take that long to find the kitchen.
Especially if this turned out to be no so very short temporary. He didn't want to think about it, but he did need to keep in mind all possibilities. One thing was positive about all this, Wesley thought bitterly. At least he didn't have to look at his destroyed garden. Of course he'd give just about anything to see that now. Not being able to see was a nightmare which was only just beginning.
Wesley blinked when suddenly there was a touch on his face and soon thereafter a second. He was getting frustrated because they startled him, not knowing Giles was going to do that. Touch him, be close to him, do...anything. Nor did Wesley know if it were Giles lips or his hands... at least not right away.
Bringing up his hand, he covered the one that was apparently on his face. Anything he needed. Wesley bit down on a laugh. What he needed right now was his eyesight back. "I don't really care at this point, love. I just didn't like the man." At all. Then again, what doctor did he like?
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"I'll call now, then," he said softly, pulling the phone closer. The number was all but burned into his mind. He'd been thinking about this since last night, as much as he'd tried to push it away. He hadn't wanted it to wind up this way, but he'd known there was a chance . . . He made the appointment quickly and then called Willow and Tara. Tara was going to be leaving for LA, but she promised to be back before the evening and as soon as she returned they'd check Wesley for magic.
One day. God, Giles hoped they could fix this in just one day. Hanging up the phone, he turned back to Wesley, reaching out to take his lover's hand. "We need to get ready for your appointment, love."
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So he latched onto the man's voice as he made the phonecalls. First to this condescending arse of a doctor, then to Tara and Willow. Oddly enough Wesley had more faith in the two witches then in that blasted doctor. If this was an allergy, then it was a very severe one.
"Of course," Wesley muttered, nodding at his lover's words. He stumbled from the bed and realized that he had no idea which way the bathroom was. Or anything really. He'd lost all sense of orientation. The words, 'I'd know my way around with my eyes closed', had never before felt so ironic. He wasn't about to give up though. Stubbornly, he held his hands out and started into...any direction and hoping for the best.
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He watched Wesley stumble toward the bathroom and dressed more quickly than he had in years, putting on comfortable jeans and a jumper. Then he went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and shave . . . It wasn't that he wanted to be right there. He wasn't hovering. There was a good chance Wesley might need him, but he wasn't going to jump in unless Wesley asked or it was very necessary.
We'll fix this, he kept telling himself, until the words became a mantra in his mind. We'll fix this.
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Murmuring a quiet thank you, Wesley made his way toward the bathroom. It was hard not to give into the mood that was quickly settling down on him. The one where he just wanted to curl up into a ball and hide under the covers until this was over and done with. He'd say hide in the dark, but that point was rather moot at the moment.
He didn't want to be needing help, but he realized that he was going to have to need help. This realization made him more upset and angry then most anything. He wasn't sick, but he still needed help. He couldn’t even find the blasted bathroom for gods sake! Swallowing a frustrated growl, he stumbled his way toward the bathroom. Cursing under way when he stubbed his toe more then once.
Once there he used the wall to guide his way over to the sink and then felt around for his toothbrush. Well, how convenient that he shaved with an electrical razor wasn’t it? Not that he could *see* what he was doing. Sighing he fumbled on his side of the sink and grabbed his toothbrush. Of course finding the toothpaste, a simple and automatic normally was proving to be something of great difficulty. He was still fumbling around getting more and more frustrated when he heard Giles enter. Funny, Wesley thought, how much one suddenly needs to relay on other senses when one falls away.
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He was tempted to ask if Wesley wanted his help shaving, but he said nothing, instead brushing his teeth as if nothing were wrong and hoping that was the right thing to do. He knew Wesley was likely hating this, hating that he needed help, and Giles knew he'd only make Wes made if he tried to do too much for him too quickly. So, instead he would do little things, like the toothpaste, which might go unnoticed, and wait for Wes to ask for what he needed. He hoped Wesley would ask.
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Biting down on a sigh, he fumbled around for the toothpaste again and miraculously found it in a place he knew it hadn’t been before. Of course then he heard his lover brush his teeth and realized how it had magically appeared within easy reach. That he could deal with. Those little ways of helping, the ones he could ignore but would feel guilty about not saying ‘thank you’ anyway. The fact that he was so needy made him even more mad.
Couldn’t even do the… Christ, he wasn’t even able to go to the toilet the ‘normal’ way. Not thinking to much about that, he quickly brushed his teeth. Not really knowing, nor caring how much toothpaste he squeezed onto the brush. Once that is done he fumbled with it for a moment before just putting it down on the sink. The hell with it, he still need to get dressed. Bloody hell, he felt like a two year old. Never mind shaving, that had been humiliating enough when he couldn’t do it for different reasons.
“I’m going to get dressed,” Wesley mumbled, feeling his way out of the bathroom again. It’s a good thing he had no taste, Wesley realized. He could can pull just about anything out of the closet when it came to that, it wouldn‘t match anyway.. Now…all he needed to do is find the bloody closet.
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There wasn't much for him to actually do in the bedroom, well, besides keeping an eye on Wesley, of course. He puttered around, shuffling things loudly so that it sounded as if he were busy, even though his eyes never left his partner as Wes pulled clothes out of the closet.
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The man would know how frustrated Wesley would get if his partner would be too obviously helping him out. But these things, these small things that could easily be put down to coincidence or a bumping into each other, that he could deal with. It was still hard, but at least he could keep up the pretense.
Stumbling his way to the closet, and just *when* did they get so many things laying or standing about to stub his toes at?, he let out a small breath when he found it. He didn’t think it was Giles’ closet he was poking through, since then the man would’ve been at his side to faux look for clothes. He used his touch to find a pair of jeans, a shirt and a sweater. It took him some time to find some boxers though.
Having no idea what he was pulling out made him rather self-conscious. Which was odd, considering he didn’t care one wit about fashion or what he was wearing normally. But if he was going out with a couple of mismatched clothes now, he’d look a fool and people would *know*. As though him fumbling around with his hands outstretched wouldn’t do that as well. But that wasn’t the point.
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, nearly toppling over the bed when he turned around and had started to shuffle toward it. It was closer by then he thought.
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Giles did his best to keep talking, apparently thinking aloud. He wasn't sure how well Wes was going to be able to get around, especially going down the stairs, so he went first and kept an eye on Wesley, all the while trying to keep his voice casual.
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Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair as Giles continued to keep on talking. No doubt to... to what? Function as some sort of guide dog to Wesley? That thought only managed to irritate him and he wished his lover would shut up. Which was completely unreasonable, he knew that. Which was why he clenched his teeth together to stop from talking.
He followed the sound of his partner's voice, holding his hands out to feel his way around. When he found the wall, he used that to find his way toward the stairs. Now those would be tricky. Well, not the stairs perse, but more like figuring out what the last step might be.
Stubbornly, he put his foot down on the first stair, then the second and moved down. Giles would probably tell him when the last step would be, and otherwise he'd fall. It didn't matter, he had to learn anyway. Mentally, he was counting the steps as he slowly made his way down.
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He wanted to do more to help, but he didn't want Wes to feel any worse. "You look very handsome," Giles said, smiling has he ran his fingers over the collar of Wesley's shirt. "I don't think I've ever seen you in that shirt. The blue matches your eyes."
It was rather ironic, Giles thought with a sad smile, that Wesley dressed better when he couldn't see what he was putting on. It wouldn't be for long. Just for a day, he assured himself.
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When he felt his lover's hand on him, his steps faltered. It was, he figured, probably Giles way of saying they were at the last step. He took it and noticed the difference of the wooden steps and the carpet on the floor. Right, that was a good indication, he had to remember that.
Of course then Giles spoke up and Wesley turned his face toward him. "Do I?" he said, forcing the bitterness out of his voice. As if he was supposed to know what the hell he was wearing? Nor did he know if his eyes were still blue. Hell, for all he knew they might be bloodshed red.
"Well thank you," Wesley mumbled, using the wall to move further. He just knew that the hallway was straight ahead, so the livingroom must be to the left. He could manage that, and then it shouldn't take that long to find the kitchen.
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