Temporarily. The word seems in line with the inevitable thing they’re finally talking about now. Raju feels the empty space where the pressure of Francis’ arm had been around him, watching Francis’ eyes while he touches his hand to Raju’s face instead, and doesn’t realise what Francis means until he goes on.
Raju’s eyebrows pinch together. The distraction from his own weakness has moved that disgusting, disgusted feeling back in him a little but it’s there, the grief and dread are more bearable just now but closer to the surface than they’ve been in some time and he’s drained, weakness and exhaustion biting at the edges of him the way it always does when the fire in him burns too hot for too long. In the day, after more sleep, maybe he’d have something different to say about this. Right now the only thing he thinks is, No, and it feels right to follow it.
“You’re not that old,” Raju insists, sharply. His fists uncurl from Francis’ shirt and he runs his palms briskly down Francis’ sides and then back up again. He’s solid and healthy and alive under Raju’s touch. No illness, no injury. His ribs are all whole and healed — but even reassuring himself of that sends the hard edged reality in that memory of the long days when those things hadn’t been true shivering across Raju’s shoulders and down into his chest. But that was a while ago, the eternity it’d taken Francis to heal and then plenty of time after, and Francis is healthy and strong now. No matter what he’s convinced himself of. “You’re talking like you’re about to fall over dead right here.”
no subject
Raju’s eyebrows pinch together. The distraction from his own weakness has moved that disgusting, disgusted feeling back in him a little but it’s there, the grief and dread are more bearable just now but closer to the surface than they’ve been in some time and he’s drained, weakness and exhaustion biting at the edges of him the way it always does when the fire in him burns too hot for too long. In the day, after more sleep, maybe he’d have something different to say about this. Right now the only thing he thinks is, No, and it feels right to follow it.
“You’re not that old,” Raju insists, sharply. His fists uncurl from Francis’ shirt and he runs his palms briskly down Francis’ sides and then back up again. He’s solid and healthy and alive under Raju’s touch. No illness, no injury. His ribs are all whole and healed — but even reassuring himself of that sends the hard edged reality in that memory of the long days when those things hadn’t been true shivering across Raju’s shoulders and down into his chest. But that was a while ago, the eternity it’d taken Francis to heal and then plenty of time after, and Francis is healthy and strong now. No matter what he’s convinced himself of. “You’re talking like you’re about to fall over dead right here.”