New Reflections (Burnsmithers)

Part Six: Questions among anxieties

In terms of the breakfast, they hadn't held further conversation while they ate. Waylon was occupied by his thoughts, anxiety that he was afraid to voice to Burns. Even though Burns had made known how he felt, Waylon didn't know where to go with that knowledge. He didn't get any sense that Burns was yet ready to act on his feelings.

But his speculation was slowed by his fatigue. After the night of little sleep, waking multiple times, he wanted to nod off now. And when he'd been seated for some time, he found himself drifting into unconsciousness, jerking awake.

He looked over at Burns after a while, who was staring down at his blankets, his legs crossed over one another. If he had noticed Waylon's behaviour, he didn't comment.
"How do you feel?" Waylon asked him.

Burns seemed startled. "Largely the same as I did, I suppose, it's not as if I could've changed how I feel so quickly," he said. "You do mean my fever?"
"Er, yes. What did you-"

"Never you mind."

Waylon sighed. "How was your breakfast?"

"The eggs had too much salt for my liking." Burns shrugged.
"That's why you didn't finish them."
"Yes." Burns tilted his head. "How observant, dear Waylon."
Is he patronising me? "What else can I do for you?" If he were occupied, perhaps he could avoid falling asleep.

Burns held out his glass, and Waylon took it. "You can refill my water."

"Anything else?"
"No. Must you have something to do every damned second?" Burns sighed. "Don't be needy."

"Would you rather I left?"

"No. Stay here."

"You know," Waylon said, "you're sending mixed messages."

A snort. Whether of disdain or amusement, Waylon wasn't sure.

"I did tell you, I'm not good with these matters, nor do I really like them."
"Alright, but I... you told me you like me, in some capacity beyond friends, and then you... well, I guess it's some of my fault too. I know things between us won't change immediately or at all, really, I just..."

"What? What weighs on your mind?"

Burns was entertaining his rambling, possibly because he didn't have anything else to do, but Waylon was grateful anyway. "I was... I was ecstatic when you told me you liked me, in any amount, as something more than a friend. I couldn't believe we were even having that conversation. But now we haven't talked about it anymore, and it just seems like everything's carrying on normally. I understand if you're anxious... I am too, but..." He sighed. "I don't know if it's going to go anywhere, if we're..." He faltered, twisting the ends of his shirt, then looked at Burns, exhaled. "Monty, I love you, and I don't want this to pass by, if...." He pleaded silently for Burns to comprehend.

Burns crossed his legs, formulating a response. "I will admit to you some degree of anxiety for the near future, but I told you that my declaration was not the endgame," he reminded, "being that the subject matter is not trivial, my earlier word was not the catch-all of my feelings, of which I have given you summation to satisfy your need for a response. A starting point, if you will."
Waylon nodded. "I... I understand."

Burns continued, "You seem tired."

Waylon shrugged, stifling a yawn.

"My point exactly. You should rest." He followed such a statement with, "I expect you still want to attend to my every whim, but such sentiment is useless when your energy levels are low."

"I'm fine."
"You look as if you'd rather nod off. You almost have sitting in that chair."

Waylon didn't meet his gaze.
"You have my permission to rest, if that's what is holding you back. Don't pretend for my sake, Waylon."
"I'm not doing that. I'm not pretending. I just don't want to fall asleep when I could be doing other things."
Burns sighed. "But that's not necessary. I don't require that you fulfil my needs every second. You are clearly exhausted. Moreover, you don't have to maintain a front, for any reason, around me."