“What?”
“Half your legs hang off the end unless you curl up, it’s much too small for you.” Henrik was looking at him like the cold might be impairing Johan’s ability to think.
“But… why is it over here, then?”
Henrik looked embarrassed and worried at his fingers. “After how I’d left things with Elias when the two of you returned to the shop, I wasn’t certain I would be welcome in his bed, and so I made my bed over there because it seemed better than waiting for inevitable rejection. But now that Elias is… unwell, our argument feels rather… um… silly.” Henrik burst into tears at that and Johan almost laughed at what a disastrous mess they’d all become in the space of a few days.
Johan cleared his throat. “Even when I’m between you, Elias reaches across me in his sleep to touch you. Doesn’t settle until his skin is touching yours somehow.”
Henrik sniffled and stared up at Johan with big, trusting amber eyes filled with so much fear and sadness it made it hard to breathe. Johan bent down and kissed him softly on the lips.
Together, they picked up the smaller mattress and moved it over to the larger one to create a bit more space for them all. Johan laid on his side next to Elias and pressed the palm of his hand to his chest, needing the reassurance of his beating heart. He kissed Elias on the cheek and took in a deep inhale.
Henrik mirrored him on Elias’ other side, and when Henrik placed his hand on Elias’ stomach, Johan reached over and interlaced their fingers.
One moment at a time, he thought as his limbs became heavy and he drifted off into sleep.
Twenty
Elias
E
lias’ eyelids felt like they were made of iron when he tried to open his eyes.
Where am I?
Squinting, he was able to register that the room he was in was the cabin in the meadow, although he couldn’t recall how he’d got back there.
He turned his head and groaned, the movement sending a pulsating pain through his head.
“Johan! Johan!! He’s waking up,” Henrik shouted at such a volume that Elias might have shoved his hand down his throat and pulled out his voice box if he’d had the strength.
The banging of a door followed by heavy footsteps only added to Elias’ torment, although at least unless something drastic had changed, Johan was unlikely to begin shouting.
“Can you hear me? Are you okay?” Henrik asked.
Elias groaned. “A corpse in a graveyard could hear you, must you be so loud?”
“We have been worried sick about you! You stubborn, pig-headed—”
“Shhh,” Johan interrupted what Elias suspected was going to be a rather lengthy tirade judging by Henrik’s tone. “Can you try to eat something?” he asked.
Elias felt quite sick, although that could have been due to a lack of food, so he nodded. “I’ll try. Rik, can you yell at me tomorrow? My head really hurts,” he requested, sounding as pathetic as he felt.
“You scared me,” Henrik whispered, and guilt churned in Elias’ stomach.
He didn’t reply but he reached out and found Henrik’s hand, squeezing his fingers. Bracing himself, he turned his head the other way, searching for Johan with his gaze.
Johan’s eyes were bloodshot and his hair dishevelled. Elias tried to swallow past the lump of emotion, but his throat was so dry and painful that he winced.
“Sit up and sip this,” Johan requested softly. He held out a skin of water and helped Elias to raise his head enough to drink from it.
The cool water was a balm, and Elias tried to drink more, but Johan pulled it away.
“Start slow, let it settle.”
Elias knew Johan was right, but he was suddenly so thirsty that he was sure he might die if he didn’t drink immediately. When he tried to grab for the water skin, though, he got a stern enough look from Johan that he snatched his hand back.
