Cold Water

The Aftershocks

The cogs started turning again, life moving at its usual, mundane pace. One day passed and then another. Second after second, not quite back to normality no matter how hard he tried to pretend he was.

And then, something jammed. 3 o'clock in the morning. Flaring pain. His head on fire.

It came in waves and he squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could drift back into the dreamless sleep he'd only found a few hours before that. Earlier, he'd been calming down after another shower, trying to convince himself that he was dry, that he could move if he wanted to.

He smothered his face into his pillow, feeling his throat rattle and a sound muffle into the fabric. He tried to breathe as if he wasn't gasping for air. He tried to be back to normal.

(*~*)

Ant was oddly relieved to turn up at Stephen's door the next morning, glad that the nurses' instructions not to let Stephen isolate himself from everyone meant that he could still fulfil his quota of fussing. It would have been strange too, not to see the other man after visiting him almost every day for a couple of hours since January. To go from weeks of that to radio silence, Ant wasn't sure he would have coped with it.

His positivity faded rather rapidly when Stephen came to the front door, letting him in and putting on a show of being alright. It took about two minutes for Ant to figure out that something was wrong. He'd adapted to how Stephen had become quieter than he used to be but this was one step further than normal. He was trying to distract himself as well, avoiding Ant's gaze.

It frustrated Ant for no reason, feeling like he'd have to question the other man in order to figure it out. So many times in the last month, he'd wished that reading Stephen was as easy as reading Dec. With the older man, Ant found it hard not to know what he was thinking. But Stephen was more enigmatic, jumping between being entirely logical and suddenly, unexpectedly unpredictable.

"Hey?" he asked tentatively when they got to the kitchen, waiting for Stephen to reluctantly look round at him. "Are you okay?"

Stephen nodded unconvincingly, returning far too quickly to his current preoccupation making them both a drink. Ant watched his hands shake for all of ten seconds before going over to stand right next to him, nudging him away from the side.

"I'll do it," he offered, hoping he wouldn't be brushed off. Although, it only worried him more when Stephen agreed without an argument. Up close, he absorbed the evidence of a sleepless night, unable not to see pain written into the lines pinching Stephen's eyes. "Sure you're okay?"

Stephen's expression wobbled, a clear battle going on behind it as he decided whether or not to say something. Ant waited patiently, hoping the right side would win.

"T-tired," Stephen admitted eventually, "H-head-headache." He screwed his face up, as if he'd been keeping himself looking neutral since answering the door and was now finally letting himself feel the full extent of the pain.

The doctors had speculated that he might get occasional headaches of varying strengths, unsure of how bad they would be without the pain medication he was given in the hospital and with the added challenges that looking after himself on a day-to-day basis would bring. And, just two days after leaving, it seemed they had their answer.

"We should sit down," Ant said practically, resting a hand on Stephen's elbow. "You should have said."

"J-Just a h-h-headache," Stephen shrugged, instantly following up with an uncomfortable wince. Ant felt his hand tighten around his arm instinctively.

"Living room," he instructed, just cajoling enough to play off the genuine order as a joke. Stephen's mouth flickered weakly but he didn't argue, letting Ant steer him out of the kitchen and into the next room. "Have you taken anything for it?"