[Not so much a talk, I suppose, but I hope you like this all the same!]
strength to lean on
“Here, Your Majesty.”
Yuuri’s feeling far too poorly to properly castigate Conrad, but his fever-glazed eyes apparently communicate enough of a glare for Conrad to correct himself with a smile. “Yuuri,” Conrad amends. “Please try and drink some of this tea. It will help with the nausea.”
It might, or it might taste nasty enough that it makes Yuuri want to throw up all the more. It turns out that despite the astonishing things magic can do here in Shin Makoku, the common cold is still something that can’t be cured. There’s none of the medicines Yuuri’s used to, either. Instead it’s teas and poultices, and they’re all far more distasteful than the worst cough syrup.
There are upsides, though. Conrad helps Yuuri upright and hands him his cup. Unlike any other time, Conrad does not then immediately step away and assume a proper distance. Instead, he leaves one arm curled around Yuuri’s back for support, while the other hand steadies Yuuri’s grip. It’s almost like a hug, with Conrad sitting on his bed and leaning sideways, so close that Yuuri can smell the fresh scent of soap on him.
“Ugh, this tastes horrible,” Yuuri groans.
“I apologise,” Conrad says. “But it will help, Your Ma - Yuuri.”
It’s only lukewarm (Conrad must have cooled it beforehand) so Yuuri gulps the whole thing down in a few quick swallows and gives the cup back to Conrad. Conrad half-turns to deposit it on the floor, then leans back in towards Yuuri.
Conrad’s hand is blissfully cool against Yuuri’s forehead and that, Yuuri tells himself, is the only reason he’s nuzzling closer.
“It feels a little less warm than today morning,” Conrad says, as he helps Yuuri shift back into a sleeping position. “You should be feeling much better by tomorrow.”
“Good,” Yuuri says. “I’m tired of being sick.”
Conrad gives him an affectionate look, smoothing a few stray locks of hair back from Yuuri’s forehead. Yuuri closes his eyes.
“Don’t go,” he says, as he has for the past three nights during this miserable illness.
“I won’t leave you,” Conrad murmurs. It sounds like a permanent promise, and Yuuri smiles as he drifts into sleep.
strength to lean on
“Here, Your Majesty.”
Yuuri’s feeling far too poorly to properly castigate Conrad, but his fever-glazed eyes apparently communicate enough of a glare for Conrad to correct himself with a smile. “Yuuri,” Conrad amends. “Please try and drink some of this tea. It will help with the nausea.”
It might, or it might taste nasty enough that it makes Yuuri want to throw up all the more. It turns out that despite the astonishing things magic can do here in Shin Makoku, the common cold is still something that can’t be cured. There’s none of the medicines Yuuri’s used to, either. Instead it’s teas and poultices, and they’re all far more distasteful than the worst cough syrup.
There are upsides, though. Conrad helps Yuuri upright and hands him his cup. Unlike any other time, Conrad does not then immediately step away and assume a proper distance. Instead, he leaves one arm curled around Yuuri’s back for support, while the other hand steadies Yuuri’s grip. It’s almost like a hug, with Conrad sitting on his bed and leaning sideways, so close that Yuuri can smell the fresh scent of soap on him.
“Ugh, this tastes horrible,” Yuuri groans.
“I apologise,” Conrad says. “But it will help, Your Ma - Yuuri.”
It’s only lukewarm (Conrad must have cooled it beforehand) so Yuuri gulps the whole thing down in a few quick swallows and gives the cup back to Conrad. Conrad half-turns to deposit it on the floor, then leans back in towards Yuuri.
Conrad’s hand is blissfully cool against Yuuri’s forehead and that, Yuuri tells himself, is the only reason he’s nuzzling closer.
“It feels a little less warm than today morning,” Conrad says, as he helps Yuuri shift back into a sleeping position. “You should be feeling much better by tomorrow.”
“Good,” Yuuri says. “I’m tired of being sick.”
Conrad gives him an affectionate look, smoothing a few stray locks of hair back from Yuuri’s forehead. Yuuri closes his eyes.
“Don’t go,” he says, as he has for the past three nights during this miserable illness.
“I won’t leave you,” Conrad murmurs. It sounds like a permanent promise, and Yuuri smiles as he drifts into sleep.
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