He Calls Forth the Better Feelings of my Heart

Chapter 9: Care

 Hours later, Henry was still faithfully at my side. He held my hand the entire time, and I was far too weak and disoriented to have enough sense to stop him. My dearest friend's touch warmed the cold chills that moved through my body. In a moment of weakness, a part of myself wished that he could join my side in the bed. Luckily, I had just enough sense to not voice this horrid thought.

My eyes were half closed, my body calmed from the soft and repetitive motion of Henry's thumb moving back and forth across my hand. I could not bring myself to look Clerval in the eye, let alone speak. So, I elected to simply stare at our hands. I had always found it remarkable how my dear friend never held an ounce of fear regarding touching me while I was ill. It was rather fortunate, considering that his presence always cured my illness in record time.

As my mind was distracted by these nonsense thoughts, Henry finally spoke. "Shall I make a bit of soup, Victor? I am quite hungry... and I know it will heal you." His smile broke though the throbbing pain of my mind, making me feel perfectly healthy for a moment.

"Yes... I would love that, Henry. Thank you." Smiling weakly, I managed to just barely squeeze onto his hands. It was an instinctive gesture, one that I instantly regretted. Now that I knew the wretchedness of my feelings, I could not risk anything that may reveal them. To compensate for the mistake, I quickly drew my hand away from his. It felt horrendously empty, cold.

Henry stood from his seat, reaching a hand out and giving my shoulder that familiar pat. Wordlessly, he turned away and exited the room to fetch our supper. I watched as he moved, examining his stature and the way his clothing folded around his frame. Before I even realized, he had exited the room.

I turned my head to once more face the sky, staring up at the ceiling of my bed chamber. Letting out a breathy, shaking sigh, I once more spoke to God. "... I presume this is my punishment, then?" I spoke quietly this time, just barely above a whisper. I did not need Henry to hear me once again. "No, that would be quite forgiving, would it not? This is only the beginning, I assume."

Looking away for a split second, I noticed a spider crawling along the bed curtain. I watched the pitiful creature until it disappeared between a fold of the fabric. I faced God once more to continue. "I assure you I cannot control it. I have tried, deeply. I have made every effort to cast these feelings aside, I would never have chosen to feel this way!" My voice had risen in volume against my better judgment. Hearing the noise caused me to go quiet once more, looking soberly to the spider as it reappeared and continued its ascent.

—

A while later, though I scarcely knew how long, my friend arrived once more. He was carrying two bowls of soup, one of which he placed on the bedside table. Henry resumed his sitting position in the wooden chair at my bedside, holding one of the soup bowls in his lap. He had a calming smile on his face as he scooted the chair along the hardwood floors, bringing it even closer to myself. "Sit up, Victor," Henry commanded, though his voice was soft and calm.

I forced myself up, groaning as the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain through my skull. This damned illness seemed to have no intention of leaving quickly. It was undoubtedly a divine punishment. I looked tiredly to Henry, forcing myself to smile. The movement made my skin feel as if it was stretched thin. "...Thank you, dear Henry."

Without hesitation, my friend lifted a spoonful of the steaming soup, his free hand moving to the back of my head. It was intimate, and even in my disheveled state I knew that even something as small as this could be taboo. Before my mind could plague me with thoughts, Henry had brought the spoonful of broth to my lips, which I drank immediately. It was hot and comforting, sending a shock of warmth through my cold chill-riddled body.

After swallowing, I managed a small laugh. I looked to Henry, then down to the soup bowl. "You are aware that I can feed myself, are you not? I am not that weak, my arms are in perfect working condition." I would not have minded the kind gesture if not for its intimacy. Just the small touch at the back of my head overpowered my senses. It made me think terrible things, made me wish that I could simply fall back into Henry's arms and allow him to hold me.

Henry spoke with a simple shrug, seemingly casual despite how intimate the action had been. "I am aware. Are you aware, Victor, that perhaps I enjoy feeding you?" He met my gaze with a mischievous expression, teasing me even in my current state. Dipping the spoon into the bowl once more, Henry flashed a teasing grin. "Open, Victor!"

I had no idea if I should laugh or be overcome with embarrassment. I did a bit of both, unable to hold back a laugh at my friend's silly antics, but flustering deeply inside. Had Henry been joking, or did he genuinely enjoy this? It was impossible to say, only plaguing my mind further. "Stop that, Clerval, and let me take the bowl," I responded, keeping my tone as light and joking as possible.

"Hmm, a shame," Henry simply responded, placing the spoon gently in the bowl before finally handing it off to me. He laughed, his cheeks going a bit rosy with the motion. "Perhaps next time, then."