victory_road | [closed] March Catch All

Mm. Something so that you will come back.... And always remember me...

[And so he picks up his pajama top and tries to. clumsily tie the sleeves to one of Grant's wrists.]

[Dimitri, he's just going down the hall.]

Uh-- [Well... this is happening. He might as well let it, since he supposes there's no harm... and he's still kind of a sucker for Dimitri's Princely Dramatics, even when they're kind of ridiculous.] Th-thank you. ...I'll only be gone a couple minutes, you know.

But I do not want you to be gone a couple minutes.

[No more prince. Time for whining.]

[...Okay he is not going to laugh at his sick boyfriend, he is NOT going to laugh at his sick boyfriend--]

When I get back, though, I'll have water and a cold cloth for you so you won't be quite so warm. Don't you want that?

[Dimitri wobbles a little.]

...I do.

Then you stay here, I'll step out just for a couple minutes, and then we can get you cooled down a little. Okay? [He kisses Dimitri's forehead again, and adjusts to get ready to stand up... while trying to keep the pajama shirt from falling off his wrist. That seems like it'd be distressing to Dimitri right now, so he'll just tote this around until he gets back.] I promise I'll be right back.

[:C]

I love you, Grant.

[Dimitri...]

I love you, too.

[With that, he finally tears himself away to stand up and go get what he needs to.

True to his word, though, he's not gone long; Grant returns in just a couple minutes, with a glass of water in one hand and a folded washcloth in the other.] There we go - that wasn't too bad, right?

[A couple of minutes is apparently all that is needed for Dimitri to have just... put his head underneath the bedframe, on the floor. Listen... Shadows are cooler.]

I missed you, Grant.

[Oh... oh buddy. Grant kneels down to put down what he's carrying, and just... put a hand on Dimitri's arm.] I'm sorry, Dimitri - but I'm back now. Do you think you can, uh... rotate for me and get back out here?

Yes. I can do that.

[He can good boy.]

[...Except when he braces his hands against the floor, his elbow bumps into Grant, and Dimitri just... stops working for a second there as his brain goes through the slow and laborious process that is thinking.]

[If he turns one way, his upper body will bump into Grant.]

[If he turns the other way, his legs will bump into Grant.]

...Rotating is impossible.

[But his parents didn't raise a quitter, so excuse him as he just. starts to wiggle out from under the bed.]

[Grant is actually literally in the process of starting to move out of the way after Dimitri's elbow bumps him, and then Dimitri... announces that rotating is "impossible". Dimitri. Buddy...]

Uh-- d'you need me to move out of the way? [He's gonna scoot out of the way.]

I can do this. I will not be rude.

[Because... that's what that would be... Rude. Yeah. Listen...]

[But soon enough, most of his head is out from underneath the bed, hair sprawled out behind him almost like a trail and his eyepatch awkwardly shifted out of place just enough to reveal the curve downwards towards his eye socket and some scar tissue that's normally not visible.]

Ah. There you are.

It wouldn't be rude to ask me to move...

[Well, it's a moot point now anyway, since he's gotten out. Grant laughs quietly, leaning over to pat his shoulder.] Here I am. Ah... [How can he say this with the least chance of Dimitri getting freaked out...] Your eyepatch has slipped a little, d'you want help fixing that?

[He knows he wouldn't want his getting out of place without his knowledge, so...]

...Ah.

[Dimitri's expression shifts slowly to something a little... complicated, and he reaches up to press his fingers against his cheek.]

I'm sorry.

[That reaction is... not a huge surprise, unfortunately. Grant shakes his head, giving Dimitri's shoulder a little squeeze.]

It doesn't bother me, Dimitri - I just wasn't sure if you were okay with me seeing anything. I know I wouldn't really want my scars there to be visible without my knowledge, either, y'know? It's just up to you.

Does it still count as scars...

[Excuse him as he just... puts his hand over the eyepatch. There. That should be a good substitute.]

[Grant frowns slightly, and, with a bit of adjustment, shifts so that he's lying down next to Dimitri, propped up on one elbow. He can still reach the stuff he brought in, at least, so he picks up the still-chilled cloth and arranges it on Dimitri's forehead, working around his hand and eyepatch.]

Probably. Whatever the damage, scars are scars... [He hesitates, brow creasing.] ...Though, if you don't want to talk about this, we don't have to.

[Oh, that feels - Dimitri sighs at the sensation cooling his hot skin, eye sliding shut again as he just takes in the feeling. The rest of his body still feels a bit too hot, too sticky with sweat, but this helps. It's a little bit, but it helps.]

...I have never talked with anyone about it before...

[That's progress, at least.] D'you think you can hold that on to sit up a little and drink some water? --Make sure not to hit your head. [They are still awfully close to the bedframe, after all.

As for the scarring issue, he nods, slowly.] ...Honestly, I haven't really gotten into it, either. So we're in the same boat there. I guess it can tough to approach.

[And it sounds like Dimitri's injury probably happened in that period of time when he... didn't really have people around to confide in about life-altering facial trauma, anyway.]

[Despite Grant's warning, Dimitri still just... lightly bops his head against the underside of the bedframe. Fortunately, at the rate Dimitri is moving, it's not much of a slam, or a bump. Really just a bit of a boop. It has him pause for a second, blinking, before he adjusts himself just enough to sit upright against the bed.]

[That was fine.]

It would be wrong to complain... For me.

I will listen if you want, Grant.

[He says as the wet cloth just.... starts to slide off of his face. At least he remembers to grab it before it can slide off completely and hit the floor.]

[Ah... there he goes. Once he's upright and steady, Grant sits up and holds out the water glass for Dimitri to drink - though he'll hold onto it for the time being, and just lift it as necessary.

He gives a slight shake of his head.] You've got every right to have strong feelings about losing a body part. And permanent facial damage like this can really mess with people, on top of that.

[Given Dimitri's history, he knows perfectly well it could easily have been a direct consequence of Dimitri's own actions, maybe left by someone defending themself. But, uncomfortable though that thought may be, he cares about Dimitri far too much to be willing to ignore however he may feel about the injury. And he clearly feels some kind of a way about it, given how quick he was to apologize and cover it when Grant indicated that it was even partially visible.

Also, he's not particularly interested in one-sidedly talking at his feverish boyfriend about his own missing eye, especially given how easily having all the attention on him could lead to the question of how it happened. That's not something Dimitri needs to know about, or to hear Grant obviously dodging.]

[Despite how clearly Grant has a handle on this - certainly more than Dimitri does - he nonetheless tries to raise his other hand up to wrap around the glass as he takes a drink. A small sound of pleasure leaves him as he does.]

[One doesn't realize how good cold water is until they are hot as hell from fever.]

[When he's had his fill, Dimitri leans back fully against the bed, and sighs from relief.]

[...Oh, right. Conversation.]

...Shameful...

[Grant waits patiently while Dimitri drinks, and, after putting the glass down, reaches over to make sure again that the cloth is settled on Dimitri's forehead... which also works well to cover a bit for his concern at Dimitri's single-word statement.]

What is?

Me.

[Just, you know. In general. Still, Dimitri lets the cloth be readjusted, thinking how strange it is against the string of his eyepatch.]

I'm still alive... so I do not have a right to complain over this little.

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