Dr. Riley Bryant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pullmysteth) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2014-09-30 10:52 am
pullmysteth) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2014-09-30 10:52 am
Entry tags:
@ muserevival || 076.6. Misc/Random
HERE @ muserevival
"Love is what you've been through with somebody." - James Thurber
There was nothing quite like the comforting nest of your own bed when times were tough and you weren't feeling good... or even forgot what feeling good felt like. Despite the shit hitting the fan the night before and the fact it caused Riley a bad enough break down to nearly ruin everything, he told Grayson to come home with him once the infusions were done.
He was too tired to analyse anything. His brain had stopped functioning rationally hours before, and this was just one of those things that just was and didn't need to be explained. There was little conversation as they arrived back at Riley's place around mid-morning. Riley's sole focus was reminding his feet to keep putting one step in front of the other to get him home and trying to push away the ever-present urge to be physically sick. A shower didn't help much, though he did attempt to wash away the feeling of being dirty that was back; one he thought he had shed years ago. He scrubbed at his skin until it was red and sore, and then covered up in pyjamas once he was done to crawl into bed.
Grayson was already lying there, though he wasn't asleep. There was no hesitation for Riley into crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over them to try to shut out the pain the last 24 hours had brought them both. Then perhaps there was a moment or two of hesitation, like he had to give himself permission to want this, and moved closer to Grayson's side, curling in against him, and closing his eyes with his forehead rested on Grayson's shoulder. Maybe a beat or two more of hesitation and he wrapped his arm around Grayson's middle.
The tears came again, though they were silent. They seeped into the sleeve of Grayson's shirt, but neither of them said anything. Riley was holding onto Grayson, and letting himself be held, but it didn't wake the pain again. Soon, his hand closed around a fistful of Grayson's shirt at his waist before he moved it down to seek out Grayson's hand, lacing their fingers together tightly with a tearful, hoarse whisper of, "I'm so sorry."
"Love is what you've been through with somebody." - James Thurber
There was nothing quite like the comforting nest of your own bed when times were tough and you weren't feeling good... or even forgot what feeling good felt like. Despite the shit hitting the fan the night before and the fact it caused Riley a bad enough break down to nearly ruin everything, he told Grayson to come home with him once the infusions were done.
He was too tired to analyse anything. His brain had stopped functioning rationally hours before, and this was just one of those things that just was and didn't need to be explained. There was little conversation as they arrived back at Riley's place around mid-morning. Riley's sole focus was reminding his feet to keep putting one step in front of the other to get him home and trying to push away the ever-present urge to be physically sick. A shower didn't help much, though he did attempt to wash away the feeling of being dirty that was back; one he thought he had shed years ago. He scrubbed at his skin until it was red and sore, and then covered up in pyjamas once he was done to crawl into bed.
Grayson was already lying there, though he wasn't asleep. There was no hesitation for Riley into crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over them to try to shut out the pain the last 24 hours had brought them both. Then perhaps there was a moment or two of hesitation, like he had to give himself permission to want this, and moved closer to Grayson's side, curling in against him, and closing his eyes with his forehead rested on Grayson's shoulder. Maybe a beat or two more of hesitation and he wrapped his arm around Grayson's middle.
The tears came again, though they were silent. They seeped into the sleeve of Grayson's shirt, but neither of them said anything. Riley was holding onto Grayson, and letting himself be held, but it didn't wake the pain again. Soon, his hand closed around a fistful of Grayson's shirt at his waist before he moved it down to seek out Grayson's hand, lacing their fingers together tightly with a tearful, hoarse whisper of, "I'm so sorry."