Will and Nico

Part 16

WILL

I check up on Nico periodically. Every five, ten minutes. He sleeps soundly. He lies on his side, hands close to his face, breathing lightly.
He sleeps for thirteen hours. I take my breaks by his bed, certain that he would just be about to wake up and not wanting to leave him alone.
He wakes up towards the end of one of my breaks. He takes a sharp breathe in, eyes flutter about. He sits up, completely disoriented.
'Hey.' I say, 'how'd you feel?'
'Was I...asleep?' He asks. He still seems fairly out of it.
'You were.' I say.
'I liked that.' He says. His eyes are wide, and I don't think he fully knows what's going on. I pass him a glass of water and he drinks it without question.
Slowly I see him come back to himself. His eyes are less manic; he's more toned down.
'Gods.' He says, rubbing his forehead, 'is that what a good nights sleep feels like?'
'Welcome to functional living.' I say, 'so no dreams?'
'None.' He says, 'it was amazing.'
'Here, you must be hungry.' I pass him a plate of food. I wasn't sure what he liked, so I got him everything. And I'm glad I did, because he ends up finishing the plate.
'Do you mind if I check on your leg?' I ask, and he nods. He lifts the blanket up and I move his trouser leg up again. I unravel the bandage and find the bite practically fully healed.
'You feel normal? Any headache or flushes?' I ask, he shakes his head.
'Do you mind if I...?' I raise my hand to his forehead, and he leans in after a moment. I check his temperature. It's normal, 'good. Okay.'
'I'm okay?'
'Seems so.' I say. Neither of us move. Both wanting the other to say something. When he was going to sleep earlier he told me he wasn't good at this. I don't want to make him uncomfortable.
'It's okay.' I say, 'if you don't want to...I mean. I won't tell anyone.'
He closes his eyes and I can hear his heart racing. His breathing quicken.
'I just...' He says, 'it feels wrong.'
'Right.' I say, clearly deflated.
'Not you. Not...I mean. When I grew up...it wasn't really a thing.' He explains, 'I don't know. I'm still getting used to it.'
'I understand.' I say, because I do. He grew up in a completely different place and time. It's clearly unsettling, 'we can pretend it didn't happen. But if you want to talk...or anything. I'd like to be friends.'
He smiles a little. Nods.
'Thanks.' He says. He sits up on the bed, and stands. We linger for a moment, before he leaves again.