Giles' voice is flat. Like old silverware, buffed and scratched, no shine left it, and it clinks against Oz's back, rattles his spine, thuds dully in his ears.
He takes a breath, holds it, and hauls himself over onto his back. Everything hurts, every shiver, every breath, and the blanket tangles around his legs.
"Do you have to?" he asks. Keeps his eyes closed, because maybe Giles is already gone. He doesn't want to know that just yet. He can't remember asking like this, asking Giles for something he can't give, but if he doesn't do this now, he knows, down to the cold marrow in his bones, that it's already over. "Maybe -" He swallows, tastes brown sugar and blood, and tries again. "Maybe you could stay for a little bit?"
If Giles is already gone, he hasn't lost anything by asking. If he's still here, then either he's trying to make up his mind, or he's shaking his head slowly, regretfully, the way Giles does when someone talks nonsense. Oz is too tired, too cold, to analyze fully just what he's risking right now.
"Don't have to," Oz says. "Just - it'd be nice?"
Questions feel like hyperventilating. Short, pointless breaths that make him dizzy.
He takes a breath, holds it, and hauls himself over onto his back. Everything hurts, every shiver, every breath, and the blanket tangles around his legs.
"Do you have to?" he asks. Keeps his eyes closed, because maybe Giles is already gone. He doesn't want to know that just yet. He can't remember asking like this, asking Giles for something he can't give, but if he doesn't do this now, he knows, down to the cold marrow in his bones, that it's already over. "Maybe -" He swallows, tastes brown sugar and blood, and tries again. "Maybe you could stay for a little bit?"
If Giles is already gone, he hasn't lost anything by asking. If he's still here, then either he's trying to make up his mind, or he's shaking his head slowly, regretfully, the way Giles does when someone talks nonsense. Oz is too tired, too cold, to analyze fully just what he's risking right now.
"Don't have to," Oz says. "Just - it'd be nice?"
Questions feel like hyperventilating. Short, pointless breaths that make him dizzy.
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