OOM: Autor is sick and Lohengrin helps

[herr_bookman]

Autor stumbled three times on the way to his room, blushing horribly and shivering all the while. Lohengrin insisted on catching the boy, but it still took a moment for Autor to process that the Knight was planning to help him all the way to his room.

After a moment of mulling it over, Autor unlocks the door from the key on a chain around his neck.

Autor's room is sparse and Spartan. There's a desk with knitting piled on one corner and quills on the other. Blazers hang in his closet. A tea kettle rests on his nightstand, and Autor leans towards the comfortable-looking bed.

What he does have, however, are books. Piles of books line the walls and fill the closet where his clothes aren't. Books cover the floor under the bed. A haphazard pile threatens to fall on the desk chair.

The boy feels he should tidy up, perhaps, and takes a few steps towards the desk, turning away from the bed.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

"If you like," Autor says, blush burning a trail down to his collarbone. His voice is roughened by dehydration. "I wouldn't have thought of a wet rag. Thanks."

[knightoftheswan]

"Well, that is what friends are for."

He carefully covers Autor's forehead and eyes with the cool, damp cloth.

"How's that?"

[herr_bookman]

Autor shivers again, chills rocking his thin frame. He presses his fingertips to the rag. "That's... That's nice," he says, surprised. "How are you, by the way? I really did want to know."

[knightoftheswan]

Lohengrin sighs a fond sigh.

"I'm doing all right, Autor. And I'll be right back."

His footsteps head to the bathroom again, and water drips ring out as he takes another cloth. The steps approach the bed again.

"I've brought another for your mouth and neck," he explains.

[herr_bookman]

Autor chuckles, closing his eyes under the rag and resting his sore hands on his belly. "Oh, no, I won't be able to talk at all! Or is that your dastardly plan?"

[knightoftheswan]

He laughs a little louder.

"Is that all it takes? 'Here, hold this rag to your mouth.' No, it's because you sound parched."

He loosely drapes the cloth on Autor's neck.

[herr_bookman]

"Oh," Autor says sheepishly, curling his toes once the cold, wet rag strikes his neck. He manages a small grin, with chapped lips. "I suppose I am parched. That tea didn't do me much good."

[knightoftheswan]

"Poor unappreciated water," he jokes, pulling the edge of the rag just over Autor's mouth. "I imagine you are nothing but tea inside."

[herr_bookman]

Autor sucks on the edge of the rag, and then speaks again. "Actually, I've been told to stop drinking so much of it," he says. "It makes me anemic to have too much."

He drinks too much and then he swoons, which is what he did on Lohengrin today--something he'd conveniently blocked out already. Rather than wallow in his embarrassment, he turns his head, careful not to let the rags slip. "Where did you learn all of this?"

[knightoftheswan]

"Mother. I had to pick it up sooner or later. She couldn't take care of me forever, after all.

"How are you feeling, by the by?"

[herr_bookman]

"That was kind of her," Autor says, and closes his eyes again to deal with a surge of dizziness. "I'm actually feeling much better, thank you. Your help is invaluable to me."

[knightoftheswan]

Lohengrin hums, giving Autor an unseen nod.

"You can rest. I can stay if you like, or I can leave."

[herr_bookman]

Autor has an irrational yearning for Lohengrin to stay, and tries to figure out whether it's irrational at all. He is my friend, after all. And I like spending time in his presence.

"Would you?" he asks, licking his lips. "Stay, I mean. There's a chair by the desk."

[knightoftheswan]

"Certainly."

Steps tap away to the desk, and then the chair dully scrapes against the floor to sit next to the bed. The Knight eases himself down.

"I did say I would provide a safe place for you."

[herr_bookman]

"Wait, what?" Autor says, wondering if he has a hole in his memory again. He desperately wants to sit up, to lift the rag off his head and look at Lohengrin, but he remains still. He contents himself with sucking on the rag and shivering. "When? I don't remember that."

[knightoftheswan]

"Oh?"

Well, sometimes words get forgotten. Did he only say that to his friend as a child? There's a slight shuffling of cloth as Lohengrin shrugs against the back of the chair.

"Then I will tell you now that I like keeping my friends safe."

[herr_bookman]

Autor smiles at him, the rags cooling his blush as well as his fever. "Then I am honored to be your friend, and under your protection, Lohengrin," he says, and his smile breaks on a yawn. "I'll protect you, too, as much as I'm able."

[knightoftheswan]

"You protect me?" he queries. "From what?"

Though the last is said with genuine curiosity.

[herr_bookman]

"Ah," Autor starts, and runs his thumb over his split knuckles, fidgeting. The fidget soon blends in with a chill, which he's none too pleased about.

"I was thinking at first from Dr. Lecter," he confesses, and feels strangely guilty even bringing the man up in this relatively safe space, "but you protect yourself from him well enough."

Better than I do, even.

[knightoftheswan]

"From Dr. Lecter?" he asks before a yawn. "I have been steering clear of him."

[herr_bookman]

Lohengrin's yawn prompts a long one in Autor. Throat sore from dehydration, he sucks on the edge of the rag again. "Good," he says. "That's wise."

Wiser than me.

He blinks under the rag. "Lohengrin, did I ever tell you that he was a cannibal?"

[knightoftheswan]

The Knight reaches to take the rags and freshen them in the bathroom sink, but recoils at this reveal.

"He's what?!"

[herr_bookman]

Autor sits up immediately, removing the rags, but has to flop back down when a wave of dizziness strikes him. "Ugh," he says softly. "Yes, sorry, I could have phrased that better. But he eats people who he finds rude."

[knightoftheswan]

"Good lord," Lohengrin murmurs. "He truly is monstrous."

[herr_bookman]

"He is," Autor says, settling the rags on his face again with a disassociating shrug. "I don't think he'll eat anyone in the bar, though--he likes being a patron far too much. I apologize for not telling you earlier; I didn't know until recently, and hadn't seen you."