The Fateful Heart 2

James took another bite of the croissant, letting it dissolve and soften in his mouth more than chewing it.

"Honestly, I don't know," he said. "I can only assume I slept well because it's all a blur... I didn't dream, though. Or have nightmares. So that's nice, I suppose."

Evaline slowly piled the items in front of her. She didn't really expect James to remember much of anything, but she did wonder if he had intentionally rolled closer to her side, or if it was an accident.

"I didn't wake you up when I got up, did I?" she asked.

"No you didn--" his sentence started breaking down when he came to the sudden, just-a-little-too-late realization that: yes, that meant she had slept next to him in the same bed. And while it made sense with their cover story, and it really shouldn't have been that big of a deal (it was just sleeping), he didn't quite know what Evaline meant.

Maybe she only meant she'd... jostled the bed in getting up? Or she was only referring to the shift of the mattress that would naturally occur from her getting up?

His mind started racing. He was sick, and feverish, and-and wouldn't them being so close get her sick too? Or was she fine? He didn't know.

"Did-didn't--" he stuttered. "Didn't wake me. No. Sorry. I hope I didn't - didn't wake you either. Tossing and turning like I normally do."

Evaline wasn't sure if James was stuttering because it was hard to talk when sick or if it was because he was nervous. She decided not to overthink it, though. It was easy to not overthink it since he was sleeping close to her many hours into the night, sleeping soundly and peacefully like this was a normal night.

"You didn't wake me," she said gently, grabbing all the items but then stopping in front of the water basin to soak one of the washcloths. "I think... you actually helped me sleep. So... thank you."

What did that mean?????

“Oh,” he said, not sure if he was burning so much because of the fever anymore. Though he was starting to feel damp from sweat. Not a nice feeling for the bandages.

“That’s... good,” he said slowly and quietly. “Yeah?”

Evaline wrung the washcloth and glanced up at him. James seemed unsure, like he didn't know what she was referencing. And maybe he didn't. It was unlikely he didn't.

"Yeah," she affirmed, walking towards her with the items. She sat on the edge of the bed and laid all the items out, picking up the washcloth first. She picked up one of his hands and gently rubbed the wet washcloth against it, finally scraping away the stickiness from the jam last night.

For once, he seemed flustered, and she was not.

It was kind of... cute. And she knew she shouldn't, but the opportunity to tease was too big to pass up.

"Very good," she said with a straight face. "It certainly made me feel better."

James froze up when she picked up his hand, feeling his heart begin to beat hard in his chest, thumping in his ears. Her being vague was not helping his nerves. He didn't like not being able to remember things.

"I--" he didn't even know why she was washing his hand. Why was she washing his hand? He had only dully realized it was sticky, but he thought that was just from sweat.

"Did-- did I say something or-- do--?"

His question came to a trainwreck of a stop as he stared at her hands holding his.

It was so, so hard to keep a straight face. And Evaline probably did let it slip, just a little. But she pursed her lips to hide it.

She should stop teasing him, but this oddly seemed to lighten the mood. At least, for her. James looked like he was one word away from completely losing it.

Maybe just a little bit more...

She dropped his hand on his side and reached over to grab his other hand to clean.

"You didn't say anything," she said with a neutral expression again. "I thought it was nice."

James let her take his hand, but he wanted to hide under the blanket. Sink into the covers. Be invisible.

"Evaline..." he said very, very quietly, sounding timid and like he was begging (because he essentially was). "Can you please just tell me, because I think if my face gets any redder I'll burst a blood vessel."

Evaline finally looked up at him and noticed that his face was indeed beet red. For a second, she grew concerned that the extra heat to his face would make his sickness worse. This was fun while it lasted, but for James's sake, she ought to just let it out.

It was easier to say now, though.

She let out a shy apologetic smile and then turned her attention back to his hand, finishing wiping it.

"I told you to go to sleep, and then later, I laid on the opposite edge of the bed, trying to sleep too. After some time, you rolled over and rested your head against my back. And I... took your hand, and you pulled me a little closer."

She almost wanted to repeat the action and pull his hand closer to her, but instead dropped it to his side. She sat up straight with her own hands on her knees, eyes traveling up to his face again. It was now impossible for either of them to not feel a little warm talking about this, but she kept going.

"I don't know if it was intentional or not, but like I said, it was nice," she said softly. "And I'm glad I didn't wake you."

So they cuddled.

It was just that, nothing more. And yet, he still could hardly even imagine it. If he had to liken it to anything that had happened before, all it really was was a hug, but lying down, from behind. Why did that make it worse? Not worse. Worse wasn't the word. It just made him more nervous, as if he wasn't already fraying at the seams.

He didn't even know what to think about him being the one to initiate most of it, either intentionally or not, in his sleep. He knew he was out of it, but he hadn't thought he was that out of it, to be unaware of what he was doing. Or who he was holding.

And yet, there was a part of his mind that wished he did remember it, and that he could've been conscious for it. Or able to wake up to it, at least - even though he knew that would probably have been a disaster of anxiety on his end.

He found himself nodding slowly, not sure what to say.

"That does sound... nice," he said, barely audible.

Does sound nice. Not was nice. Because he didn't remember any of it.

And yet, it sounded nice, like it was something he desired.

... She wondered if it was something he desired.

That thought seemed to slowly seep in until it was all she could think about. Evaline gripped the washcloth on her lap a little tighter, desperately trying to think of a response or something to say.

Slowly, she lifted the washcloth over to James's face, dabbing his mouth without prompt.

"You got jam all over yourself last night," she simply explained.

James blinked slowly, finding relief in her explanation, but also confusion.

"Jam..." he echoed, trying to scour his brain for a memory, but nothing came. He huffed lightly through his nose. Blood loss and fever really did a number on his memory.

"Is there anything else I said or did that-- that I should know about?" he asked. "I mean... my head still feels fuzzy, so I don't even know how dependable my memory is now, but... I don't like not remembering... any of that."

Evaline focused on dabbing the areas on his beard and mustache that she remembered had jam on it, but really she was trying to think of what to say. Of course, she wanted James to know too. It was only right. He deserved to know, and she wanted to be better at communicating and not keep secrets. It was just... was he ready for it? Was she ready for it?

"The jam was from the bread I fed you last night," she explained instead when she heard the confusion in his voice. "You didn't eat much of it, which is another reason why I want you to eat as much as you can now."

She hesitated, then cleaned his lips one last time before setting the washcloth back on her lap.

"There's a lot you don't remember," she finally admitted quietly, meeting his eyes. She almost looked at his lips to make sure that it was clean, but then decided against it.

"But... would you rather hear it now? Or maybe... later?"

James remembered just enough to know that something had happened to almost make her go back in time, and he didn't know if it was something exceptionally good or exceptionally bad. He just knew that strong emotions could trigger it, and he had to assume there was nothing life-threatening (otherwise she would have gone back in time and not almost gone back), so it had to have been something else. Strong happiness, strong sadness, he had no idea. But the way she asked the question, she made it sound like she didn't know if he could handle it at the moment.

With how much his head was throbbing, he wasn't sure he could either.

"As long as we do talk about it later," James said carefully. "Then I wouldn't mind saving it for when I'm a little less feverish. But I do want to talk about it."