Caius stared at him blankly, something heavy behind it; he looked exhausted. Maybe it shouldn’t have been a big deal. Maybe it just shouldn’t have been. Shit. But Caius was visibly still thinking.
Out of place. Out of word.
Caius was probably just half too confused to even process it. It sounded weird when he said it, only in context. And now it was painfully silent, and the night buzzed out tired behind his brain. Maybe there was no baseline; where was he even trying? Fatal error. He had talked too much. Caius was still quiet.
“okay.” It was incredibly quiet. He didn’t flinch away from his hand that time, so he set his palm against his shoulder. It really didn’t help anything.
“I’m sure you have a thousand other things to worry about instead. So don’t worry about it.”
Caius still didn’t move, only movement of trying to be still.
He bit his lip. Always should have thought it better through. Typical. Second best, he tried to curl up against Caius’s back, get him to stop being still, but he was always persistent, and that was exhausting. But some seconds and he made a weird sound so that he was actually at a loss, and Caius turned around, curled himself up, hid his face behind his hair and into the pillow.
Tentative, he pulled him back in, and Caius half-heartedly let him.
I particularly like this piece because I actually don’t remember what Julius said right before this takes place. Small excerpt from an upcoming project, Flesh is a Fever Dream.