GameCubert

-------[752 words]-------

"You've been hiding this for days, haven't you?" Grace asks, his voice just as soft as the touch on Simon's thigh is. Simon's skin prickles beneath the delicate contact, and he can't tell yet if the feeling is entirely positive. Simon looks down at Grace's hands, watching his careful movements as he cleans the large, barely scabbed-over gash in the soft flesh of his leg.

"Simon?" Grace says his name like a question, and it's only now that Simon understands that Grace expected an answer. Simon doesn't have one to give. He would only be restating what Grace already found to be obvious. Grace sighs as he realizes Simon doesn't intend to reply, so he tries to ask something else as he works an antibiotic over the wound.

"It looks infected," Grace says, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He feels like this question has a less obvious answer, which will hopefully make Simon more likely to give him one. He sees Simon shift in place, looking uncomfortable. Grace can't help but wish that Simon would at least look at him. He hadn’t since Grace noticed the blood seeping through the side of his sweatpants. Grace had shrieked about it, Simon had looked uncomfortable and tried to leave the room, and then Grace had caught his arm and immediately brought him to the medical bay. Armando was still broken from Simon's arrival there several weeks ago, and Simon- bless him- hadn't stopped apologizing for breaking him since. Unfortunately, apologizing wouldn't fix the machine, but Grace would never say that. He didn't want Simon to feel worse than he obviously already did.

Grace glances up from the wound when Simon sighs softly and rubs at his chin, feeling the stubble there. Simon licks his too dry lips, trying to think of a response.

"It's, uh... I dunno. The way I got it was stupid." Simon says finally, shrugging a bit as though that actually makes any fudging sense, "I didn't wanna keep thinking about it. Didn't want you to worry. You already worry so much about other shit, and-"

"Simon-"

"I just didn't think it was that big a deal-"

"Simon-"

"It's not like I can really feel pain anymore, so it's not-"

"Simon!" Grace snapping startles Simon enough to make him stop talking and actually look at Grace. He purses his lips nervously, gaze quickly flicking down and away from Grace's face. He can look in his direction, but he can't meet his eyes.

"I- sorry, I- I didn't mean to snap, I- it's just-" Grace huffs at himself in annoyance and shakes his head, putting his main focus back on wound care, though he does speak up again eventually.

"You being hurt matters regardless, Simon. This could have killed you." Simon feels a bit silly for it, but that thought hadn't really crossed his mind. Being able to ignore pain- to not really feel it- had him assuming he would just be fine from now on. It seems that wasn’t the case. He should have realized that, in hindsight, but he hadn’t.

"Right... right, I'm, uh... sorry, Ryland." Simon rubs the back of his neck with his hand, looking resolutely at anything that isn't Grace.

"Si, you don't need to apologize, that's not- I just want you to take better care of yourself. Not for my sake, but for yours." Grace pauses a moment, considering his next words carefully, "But, I guess if you can't do it for yourself, then do it for me. I guess- whoever it's for, doesn't matter. Not so long as it's happening."

"Ryland, I-"

"Please, Si?" Grace shifts himself slightly, forcing himself into Simon's line of sight. Simon bristles uncomfortably as his eyes meet Grace's, but he doesn’t look away. Instead, he just sighs and nods, relenting.

"Alright. I'll- I'll let you know. In the future. Sorry." Simon wants nothing more than to break eye contact with Grace. It feels like too much pressure- too much connection... but then Grace is smiling, and Simon feels something unfamiliar fill his chest. A sort of warmth he hadn’t expected.