Raju's jaw clenches. The best thing to do for Francis is keep going so his hands stay moving steadily and quick; hesitation is the thing that'd stretch it all out longer. Not that this will stop hurting Francis once he's done. But Raju will be done with doing it, at least. And Francis will be safer, all the broken parts of him held in place again. Its been made very clear that no one else is going to look out for Francis, not if that means doing something hard — it's more important than ever now that Raju be able to do these things. And so he will.
"Then that's what we'll ask for," he says, smile flickering on again as he glances at Francis' face. "A box of oranges."
He looks down again at his hands. A moment after he finishes asking they'll be done, at least with this, but Francis won't be done needing distracting. "I've seen them once or twice, at parties, but never had one. What are they like?"
He tries to mirror the smile. A box of oranges for the holidays. Perhaps they can ask for cloves too, make little pomanders to hang in the thresholds and windowsills. It seems like such a frivolous notion though, and it would be their second holiday season spent here. Celebrations would be more bitter than sweet, he imagines.
"Never?" he asks, a touch surprised. He thought oranges were native to India, but what he doesn't know about Raju's home could fill a book and then some. But he does know one thing about oranges that's probably as true for Raju as it is for him - "they're pricy. A rich man's fruit, and rightly so, as delicious as they are. Sweet and tart, just a touch of that bitterness from the peel."
A box of oranges, for him and Raju to share. He inhales, testing the boundaries of the bandages, exhaling to stretch it slightly. He takes a few more of those deep breaths until he's more comfortable in his own skin, the wheezing quieting.
"Or we could ask for the boar to just kill Hickey for us," he adds a little darkly. "Do you think it would oblige?"
Raju's imagined what it would be like, needing to settle himself in the constricting pressure of the bandages tight around him that way. As he watches it now his hand drifts toward Francis' shoulder and he allows it to settle lightly there. Then Francis asks that last question and he snorts, smile grimly amused. "I think it's worth a try. Who could blame us for what one of those creatures decided to do? There's precedent enough for that, after today. Then if it refuses, we'll ask for oranges."
He quite possibly shouldn’t be encouraged to think about murder, but it makes him feel better, the idea of Hickey being slaughtered by a giant, gift-giving boar. “I think either way we can’t lose.”
He tries to smile, but he’s too pained and stops himself about halfway through. “I need to sleep,” he says quietly, turning his head away from Raju. He’s looked pathetic enough today.
"Of course," Raju murmurs. He realises he's watching Francis — not what Francis wants now, judging by the way he's looking away from him. Distraction, poor or not, can only go so far, and the betrayal today was personal for Francis in a way it can't quite be for Raju, and Raju knows what it looks like when, close quarters or not, a friend needs to be alone.
Francis' shirt is still off; it hurts him to raise his arms, and seems cruel to insist he do it again now, when it's only the two of them. Raju lets his hand slip away from Francis' shoulder to add another blanket atop the first, the warm, soft fur that's become as familiar to Raju as any bed, and shakes them straight and aligned with each other, and sets them over Francis' shoulders. Raju tucks the blanket around him, finds his hand lingering over Francis' shoulder again, his arm. But if solitude is what Francis needs now then that's what he'll get and Raju lets his hand drift away, stepping back. He'll stay near the fire the way he always does but maybe with his back turned, take up a book or some quiet way to keep his hands moving. And then— "I'll be here when you wake," he says, quiet.
And he will be. The rest in this place might not stand up for this man in the way he needs, but it was ridiculous to count on anything like that anyway. Raju will do what needs to be done. He'll be here.
As badly as it hurts now, Crozier knows the worst of it's to come in the morning when he wakes. His body protest at its continued ill-treatment, and he'll likely be in a state and not wanting to do much of anything besides have a little tea to keep Raju from worrying.
In these moments it would be so easy to give into the despair he feels, and Lord knows he's done it before. He doesn't want to be that man anymore though, and those conscious efforts to keep pushing, keep trying, keep hoping have become more engrained in his being than simple habit. He wants to keep trying. He wants Hickey to keep his grubby little hands away from the people he loves, and he wants people to see that he's not merely dredging up the past for the sake of it.
But don't they see, don't they see how mired they are in what happened to them? Where's the grace for the dead and newly-risen? Is that not enough to keep one's thoughts occupied indefinitely?
He thanks Raju quietly and pulls the furs up just a little, settling in for the evening and forcing himself to sleep. It comes, but it's uneasy and strained. It's so hard to breathe.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-07-07 12:41 am (UTC)"Then that's what we'll ask for," he says, smile flickering on again as he glances at Francis' face. "A box of oranges."
He looks down again at his hands. A moment after he finishes asking they'll be done, at least with this, but Francis won't be done needing distracting. "I've seen them once or twice, at parties, but never had one. What are they like?"
no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 01:08 am (UTC)He tries to mirror the smile. A box of oranges for the holidays. Perhaps they can ask for cloves too, make little pomanders to hang in the thresholds and windowsills. It seems like such a frivolous notion though, and it would be their second holiday season spent here. Celebrations would be more bitter than sweet, he imagines.
"Never?" he asks, a touch surprised. He thought oranges were native to India, but what he doesn't know about Raju's home could fill a book and then some. But he does know one thing about oranges that's probably as true for Raju as it is for him - "they're pricy. A rich man's fruit, and rightly so, as delicious as they are. Sweet and tart, just a touch of that bitterness from the peel."
A box of oranges, for him and Raju to share. He inhales, testing the boundaries of the bandages, exhaling to stretch it slightly. He takes a few more of those deep breaths until he's more comfortable in his own skin, the wheezing quieting.
"Or we could ask for the boar to just kill Hickey for us," he adds a little darkly. "Do you think it would oblige?"
no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 02:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 06:14 pm (UTC)He quite possibly shouldn’t be encouraged to think about murder, but it makes him feel better, the idea of Hickey being slaughtered by a giant, gift-giving boar. “I think either way we can’t lose.”
He tries to smile, but he’s too pained and stops himself about halfway through. “I need to sleep,” he says quietly, turning his head away from Raju. He’s looked pathetic enough today.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-07 06:37 pm (UTC)Francis' shirt is still off; it hurts him to raise his arms, and seems cruel to insist he do it again now, when it's only the two of them. Raju lets his hand slip away from Francis' shoulder to add another blanket atop the first, the warm, soft fur that's become as familiar to Raju as any bed, and shakes them straight and aligned with each other, and sets them over Francis' shoulders. Raju tucks the blanket around him, finds his hand lingering over Francis' shoulder again, his arm. But if solitude is what Francis needs now then that's what he'll get and Raju lets his hand drift away, stepping back. He'll stay near the fire the way he always does but maybe with his back turned, take up a book or some quiet way to keep his hands moving. And then— "I'll be here when you wake," he says, quiet.
And he will be. The rest in this place might not stand up for this man in the way he needs, but it was ridiculous to count on anything like that anyway. Raju will do what needs to be done. He'll be here.
no subject
Date: 2024-07-08 01:04 am (UTC)As badly as it hurts now, Crozier knows the worst of it's to come in the morning when he wakes. His body protest at its continued ill-treatment, and he'll likely be in a state and not wanting to do much of anything besides have a little tea to keep Raju from worrying.
In these moments it would be so easy to give into the despair he feels, and Lord knows he's done it before. He doesn't want to be that man anymore though, and those conscious efforts to keep pushing, keep trying, keep hoping have become more engrained in his being than simple habit. He wants to keep trying. He wants Hickey to keep his grubby little hands away from the people he loves, and he wants people to see that he's not merely dredging up the past for the sake of it.
But don't they see, don't they see how mired they are in what happened to them? Where's the grace for the dead and newly-risen? Is that not enough to keep one's thoughts occupied indefinitely?
He thanks Raju quietly and pulls the furs up just a little, settling in for the evening and forcing himself to sleep. It comes, but it's uneasy and strained. It's so hard to breathe.
Come morning the hurt will be worse.