Just My Own Little Space

Ain't found a way to kill me yet

Eyes burn with stingin' sweat

Oh fuck it bites. She tenses up and fights the almost overpowering urge to cough. Where does he even get this awful stuff? She lets the smoke out and passes the joint back to him, leaning deep into the sofa, relaxing... a bit too much, a twinge in her neck reminding her why they're smoking in the first place, doesn't seem to help much though.

Here they come to snuff the Rooster

"Fuck..." she sighs, it's always so good, this song, one of the few things they can really agree on. Usually Warbler has such a shit taste in music.

Yeah, here come the Rooster

Gives her chills, every time. She watches the stream of smoke pluming out from between his lips, so beautiful like that, with the stupid drowsy look in those big, pale eyes, he hasn't washed his hair and it hangs lank around his face, spilling over his shoulders. Dirty beautiful.

"Can't," he says, sniffs, nudges his nose with his wrist as he relaxes into his own end of the couch. "Too high."

She can't help feeling amused and probably smiles.

He sniffs, sniffles, again and rubs his nose with the back of his hand, frowning. Then harder, like to punish.

"Starting early this year," she says. He's been sneezing here and there through the day, rubbing his nose, it isn't catastrophic yet but it's obviously his hayfever.

"No it isn't yet —" he starts, freezes in place, and sneezes. "Htkssh! Htkssh!-snff! ...H-Htkssh! ...Kshh!"

Oh now he's done it. It sounds... it just sounds so fucking... Ohh her neck!

He shoots her such a hurt, annoyed look, still rubbing his nose. "Don't laugh, it's... Htkssh!-snff! Kshh-Kshh!" He moans and rubs his nose with abandon, while she can't stop the giggles rising from her belly.

"Don't do that," she pleads with a shaky voice and draws a hiccuppy breath. "My neck, oww my..."

"It's dot fuddy!" he says, so irked, and blows his nose loudly into a half used tissue. "And you wouldn't hurt so if you had any empathy like a normal — Htkssh! Htkssh!"

Oh fuck... it hurts so much to laugh...

His eyes narrow, and there's the teeth, a shaky breath. "You..." he titters, "your neck is so fucked!"

He laughs, leaning his head back like to offer his throat. What a fucking bastard. Sneezes twice. Cusses and laughs more through the cussing.

--

Well, in the end the neck did relax somehow. Even without those pills he had offered her, just muscle reaxants, got them from one of the Russian guys. Yeah, she has seen him down some with gin and juice and then go out like a light, and she had to carry him to bed, looked so uncomfortable passed out on the couch like that. Next morning all pale and woozy, smeared mascara on his cheeks.

"Yeah, that's the... oh yeah..." she moans. Somehow she has ended up lying on the thick old rag rug next to the couch and he's sitting on top of her, giving her a back massage. He's so good at it, he has strong hands. But why does he have to squeeze her so with those fucking porn star thighs of his, and she could swear...

"You have a hard on," she notes.

"Yeah," he says.

"You're such a pervert."

"Agreed... perhaps you should throw me."

"You'd break your neck."

"Worh..." he gasps. "Worth it," he says on an inhale, and starts sneezing again. "Htkssh! Htkssh-Kshh! ...snff ...H-Htkssh! Htkssh!"

She can feel him roll off her, still sneezing in that ridiculous way, like an angry cat. She sits up as he is blowing his nose, it's getting pink already around the nostrils. When he leans his head against the couch and looks at her his eyes look teary and unhappy.

"Poor bastard," she sighs, and in a fit of probably misguided pity she puts her fingers on his cheek.

He immediately leans against her hand. "I think I'm going to die of it this year," he breathes. So dramatic.

"You always think you're going to die of it."

He sniffles. "Have come close."

"And you still have a hard on."

He doesn't say anything, just turns his head and pushes her hand with his so her palm presses against his lips.

He’d hoped the flu he’d had a couple of years ago had been a fluke. Never — never —  had he ever sneezed so much in his life. He’s confident he’d sneezed more during the course of that single illness than he’d had in all his other thirty plus years of life combined. But then there was the Christmas where he’d caught what he’d thought was an exceptionally bad cold — the kind that caused ceaseless sneezing he’d never experienced prior to that awful bout of the flu. 

He’s not one to be sick often. He can count on one hand how many respiratory illnesses he’s had in the last five years. The problem is that there seems to be a new development in how his immune system responds to these viruses.

Only now as he jerks forward to stifle his fourth sneeze in two minutes does he truly begin accepting that his body is changing and that this may actually just be his life now.

And if that’s the case, then… fuck.

Several trays with some sort of weird, cloudy liquid are in front of him, and his “table partners” are busy trying to design a test to identify the substance. The idea is that they work together as a team to make the experiment themselves, as opposed to following step-by-step instructions. There’s value to the method of educators assuming the roles of students. Felix knows this. But in this moment, he’s trying so hard not to sneeze all over everyone and everything that he no longer cares much about this.

He brings his wrist up to rub at his nose in hopes to alleviate the itch burrowed deeply inside his sinuses. 

Big mistake.

“HETchnnx’t!”

The sneeze is stifled against his wrist, which would be fine — would be great, actually — if that had been the only one trying to claw its way out. But there’s more — so many more — and Felix is more than ready to call it a day and retreat to his hotel room. 

But, no, he’s stuck here trying to record his teammates' findings without spraying snot all over the experiment. 

“Did you get that?”

Sniffling hard, Felix looks with bleary eyes at the man across from him. His nametag reads Kyle. “Huh?” Felix asks.

“My prediction. Did you write it down? Since you agreed to be the recorder?” the man says, his brow raised.

Felix had agreed to be the recorder. Because collecting data seemed better than compromising the integrity of the experiment by sneezing all over the unidentified substance. But he hadn’t anticipated how much attention this particular duty required. 

“Um, yeah, you — heh —” He shakes his head quickly, then rubs fiercely at the ridiculously inflamed organ he’s unfortunate to have as a nose. “I — hehhh —” Now a tear rolls down his cheek as the prickle sharpens. “Sorry, you s — hh — said that you noticed — I’m sorry, but I have to sneeze.” He’s barely able to get out the words before he’s spraying into the crook of his arm. “HEHNg’tCHhhhoo! HEHNkt’sssshhh!” 

“Bless you,” says the older woman to his left. Her name tag displays her as Barbara. She must be close to retirement and probably resents being here more than anyone, but she’s wearing a sympathetic expression now. This is nice considering the man — a young teacher who looks fresh out of college — is staring at him with an expression of disgust. 

‘Thadks,” Felix says, sending the older woman a quick smile before writing something down on notebook paper he vaguely recalls Kyle mentioning. 

The final member of their group, Amir, is entranced by his work and hasn’t given Felix’s mini-eruptions any notice, thank god. 

Someone mutters something about test strips and suddenly there’s beakers in front of him and the very distinct smell of vinegar and now he has to sneeze even more because that scent is just so — 

“HEHnk’t! HEPng’t! Ng’t-choo! HEHmpkt’shoo! HAHnk’xxt — ow!”

“Bless you,” says Barbara again, as Amir finally looks up from his own beaker with the barest hint of interest in his expression.

“You sound sick,” says Kyle, and there’s no way the statement is anything other than an accusation. 

“I think I may be a little under the weather,” Felix admits. Then, feeling moisture trickle out of his left nostril, he gives a huge sniff. A sniff that becomes extremely counterproductive because it ignites something inside his sinuses that has him, a moment later, expelling everything from his nostrils with a massive, “HEH’NGtffXxtchhoo!”

Kyle literally scoots his chair away from the table in a way that Felix finds overly dramatic  — though only slightly, because there is a fair amount of liquid now splattered across his page. The notebook sheet of data now serves more as evidence of his cold than of any actual science. 

“Excuse me,” Felix says, sheepishly, his cheeks heating.

“It’s a bad season for colds and flus,” Barbara says, giving a soft smile. “It’s hard to stay healthy in this line of work.”

Still staring at the dampened sheet of paper, Felix only nods quickly. 

“I’m, um, not usually like this,” Felix says, sniffling thickly. “Okay, I mean, well, I didn’t used to be like this. Like, a cold was a cold, you know? But now, the past couple of times I’ve been sick, I —” His eyes are practically rolling into the back of his head as he crushes his arm against his mouth and nose. “HEH’NGtfXx’tch!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be here, then. You surely know as a teacher of biology that with a cold this symptomatic, that you are highly contagious,” Kyle says.

Laughing awkwardly and rubbing his neck, Felix can only mutter a small, “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Hey, go easy. Surely you know what it’s like to need the PD hours. He’s already here. Of course he’s not just going to stay in his hotel room because of a cold,”  Barbara says. Felix is beginning to love this woman.

“I mean, if I were this sick,” Kyle says, his sentence trailing off, as he gestures at Felix. 

Felix wants to launch into defending himself. To say he’s not actually that sick. He doesn’t even have a fever, thank you very much. But it’s as though something’s taken possession of his sinuses because with no warning, he snaps forward and begins sneezing over and over again.

“Hngtchoooo! Gnt’chooo! EHHshooo! EHHHckSHOOO! EH shoo eh shoo! Eh shoo! AH eh EHSHOO!”

He’s not going to make it. He’s not going to make it to the end of this damn conference. 

He should’ve known better. He should have known from past experiences that when his nose is this full to the brim with a virus, he is no longer in control of his body. That trying to maintain any semblance of control is utterly futile and will only end in him being humiliated.

There is still a small amount of control he does have, though.

So, standing up, he gives his teammates a quick smile and apology before standing up from the table to make his way to the conference room’s exit. 

* * *

Connor’s POV

He’s halfway through reading a Blake Crouch novel when he hears the sound of the hotel door opening. Frowning, he checks the time on his smart watch. The watch confirms that, yes, it is indeed too early for his boyfriend to be returning from his conference.

Yet there he is walking through the door. Felix has a certain tendency to look messy at the best of times. Connor is sure he’s never seen the guy successfully button a shirt on the first try or even make it through an entire day without spilling something on himself somewhere. His current state, however, is more than the result of being carefree and chaotic. His nose is a distinct type of red and there’s a tear trailing down his right cheek. There are only two possibilities. Connor’s boyfriend has either spent a significant amount of time crying. Or  —

“Hmpkxxxt’ch!” 

“Oh, bl —”

“HMPKxxxT’CHH!”

Connor almost laughs because that second sneeze was a much more aggressive form of the first one, as though his body was pissed off at him for trying to hold it in. 

“I think if you’d let them out, you’d feel better,” Connor says slowly, testing the waters.

He’s met with a vigorous head shake and a finger held in the air.

“HAP’tCHNnk!”

“Right,” Connor says, drawing out the word. “Or you can let your sinuses explode. A completely logical and reasonable choice.”

“I let them out earlier. Di-hh-disaster.” 

Connor winces, imagining the scenario. “Ideally, you’d release them into tissues.” After the comment earns him a glare, he sighs, standing up from the bed. He walks over to the bathroom and grabs a handful of tissues. When he returns, Felix is leaning his back against the wall. 

“Here, use these. No need to let it just leak like that,” Connor says, handing over the tissues.

“It’s going to be so gross,” Felix says, biting his lip.

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to be gross.”

Taking a shaky breath, Felix shoots Connor a dubious look before he crushes the tissues to his face and begins to… well, to do something very gross.

As Felix fills the tissues, Connor heads to the bathroom to grab more, mentally making a note of everything he will need to buy. They will definitely need tissues for the eight hour long car ride home. 

When he sees Felix again, he’s somehow still blowing his nose — into paper that’s practically mulch at this point. Felix takes the new handful from Connor, looking grateful. 

As Connor heads toward Felix’s suitcase, pulling out some sweatpants and a hoodie, Felix’s noseblowing has somehow gotten more aggressive. Would one box of tissues last an entire car ride? Surely so… but, to be safe, he should buy a couple. He’ll also need something for the sinus headache Felix will undoubtedly develop. So, tissues, Tylenol, possibly cough drops, though there’s not been any coughing yet. Maybe a thermometer in case he starts running a fever while on the road? 

“Eck’fshhuuuhhh!”

“Bless you!”

“EHHH’CkkSHHUH! Oh my — ugh, ew. I hate being sick.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Connor responds, turning around to face Felix. The tears streaming down his face make Connor’s heart clench. “How about you sit on the bed and get more comfortable?”

Felix blinks slowly, looking at the bed as though the thought never occurred to him. He manages to make it to the bed, breath hitching the entire time. His body is clearly preparing for another grand display of illness. 

“I’m going to unbutton your shirt, okay?” Connor says, placing his hands on the bottom button of the shirt. “No need for you to be this dressed up when our new plans involve only resting and relaxing.”

“Hhh hh hhh hhh!” is Felix’s only response.

“Maybe a thumbs up? A nod? Kind of feel weird stripping you down without explicit permission.”

After a weak, short-lived, but definitely there thumbs up, Connor begins the process of undressing his boyfriend in a way much different from how he’d earlier been fantasizing. Although there are definitely similarities. Felix is flushed and gasping for breath; his expression even resembles the one he makes when he’s right on the cusp of — 

“HEH’TSHOO!” 

Warm spray coats Connor’s hands, and he closes his eyes, gritting his teeth for just a moment. 

“Sorry,” Felix gasps out before managing to turn his head this time for a “EHtshhhoo!”

“It’s all right,” Connor murmurs. Because it’s Felix and that’s what makes the words true.

He continues unbuttoning, Felix’s abdomen moving in response to the apparent ever-present desire to sneeze. 

“It was so embarrassing. At the - hh - conference. I just kept- hh — I mean, I just couldn’t stop sneezing.”

“It sounds like you were miserable,” Connor says, removing the shirt, laying it down on the mattress. “Raise your arms.”

Felix’s arms immediately go up. Connor pulls on Felix’s old, gray college hoodie over his head. He chews the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. There’s something so unfair about how adorable this man looks while sick. His mouth is partially open, each of his breaths coming out shaky. His eyes are red-rimmed and still leaking tears. Hand covered by the hoodie sleeve, Felix scrubs at his nose sniffling thickly at the same time. Never has anyone else ever looked so endearing while so utterly cold-ridden. Even with his nostrils glistening.  His brown eyes meet Connor’s and he remembers in that moment that he’s so fucked when it comes to Felix. The things he would do… the crimes he would commit without question if Felix so much as asked…

“ECKshoo!” The sneeze, thankfully, doesn’t land on Connor’s face. It was a close call. “I really wanted to be there, you know? I think I’ll still have my hours without all of today’s activities. But I was excited for the - hh - the next speaker.”

It’s when unzipping Felix’s pants that Connor gets a direct hit. “EKMKT’shhoo!” It somehow feels as though wet spray is coating his entire upper body. He feels it on his face, his neck… it must be all over his hair.

“I’m so sorry. I tried to hold it. But all my body wants to do is sneeze. If this is what being sick is - hh - gonna be like from now on, I’m w-w-whhhh - wearing a hazmat suit to work.”

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea,” Connor says as Felix lies flat across the bed so Connor can strip him of his khakis. 

Felix sneezes only once as Connor pulls the black joggers over his legs, though his breath hitches the whole time. Once comfortably dressed, Felix gets under the covers. Finally settled, he looks at Connor and there’s something to his expression that seems… he can’t quite pinpoint it. Almost frightened? Apprehensive? But why would he feel…

Ah. It clicks as Felix snaps forward. 

“Hmkptshhh! PTSHH! EHNg’txxxshhh! AHH pshh! Ahh’pssh! Eh’shh! EH’sshh!”

Felix continues sneezing, one after the other, sounding as though they’re toppling over each other with the force of trying to come out. Connor joins his boyfriend in bed, wrapping an arm around him and rubbing his shoulder, the way he’s done in the past when Felix hasn’t gotten like this. 

“HHuhHHTsnkkxxx! HHHH! Oh my — oh my god. HEHNkt’sssshhh!”

Heart twisting, Connor rubs harder as though that will make the discomfort go away.

“Would you still l-hhhhh- love me if I heh… if I … HEt’SHOOO! HET’SHOO! Goddammit! Hemkpt’shhh!” 

Cold-laden droplets are absolutely coating this hotel comforter — not to mention the air.

But Connor only grimaces. 

“Would you still love me if I HET’SHoo!”

“Would I still love you if you were a worm?” Connor asks, brow raised. He’d managed to move past that particular meme unscathed, though now, it seems that is changing.

Felix aggressively shakes his head. “N-n heh no. If I — HH! Ugh. If — I never stopped sneezing? Would you still love me?” 

A laugh falls from Connor’s mouth before he even fully registers the words. “Sweetheart, if I can still love you after you’ve had two bean burritos from Taco Bell, then I can certainly love you if you never stop sneezing.”

Connor’s about to get up to fetch more tissues when Felix’s now hoarse voice asks, “What if I never stopped sneezing but was also a worm?” He pauses, staring at the ceiling, chewing on his lip. “And also ate two bean burritos from Taco Bell?”

“Would I still love you if you were a sneezy, gassy worm?” Connor asks, the words coming out slowly.

“Mm, yes,” Felix says, shooting Connor with such a bright, crooked smile, that he wonders how his heart is still beating because surely it melted from that smile.

He looks at his extremely sick, extremely disgusting boyfriend. The need for a tissue is, as far as Connor’s concerned, dire at the moment. Felix’s nose is producing mucus at a, quite frankly, alarming rate. As if struck with the same thought, Felix reaches out an arm and swipes it underneath his nose and Connor only winces a little.

Lohen had been standing out in the middle of Knight's of Favonius Nod Krai camp listening to one of the other knights drone on for merely five excruciating minutes, and he was already contemplating actual murder.

He wouldn't go through with it of course. He could patiently wait until he was face to face with monsters from the Abyss who actually deserved it.

He would continue to merrily contemplate it though.

These kinds of meetings were arguably the worst part of being a knight. Normally, he'd skip out or sneak off once he got bored, but unfortunately, Varka had caught him the last time he'd pulled that stunt, and had politely implied (aka, threatened) he would send him off back to Mondstadt if he snuck out of another meeting.

So, for the time being, he was stuck here.

Bored.

Mentally going over various ways to hide a body.

Sniffling- sniffling?

Why was he- oh.

As soon as he became aware of it, Lohen suddenly couldn't put the itch in his nose out of his mind. After checking to see if anyone was watching him, he subtly rubbed at his nose.

Well… it didn't make things worse.

But it didn't make the itch go away either.

Lohen's eye twitched briefly as he resisted the urge to shake his head to get rid of the sensation. He shifted his weight ever so slightly, taking his knife out and slowly running his finger along the side of it in an attempt to distract himself. Anyone who might glance at him would think he was just cleaning a spot off of it or… something, he didn't care what they thought really so long as…

A light breeze blew through the camp.

The itch in his nose flared, and he barely choked back a surprised inhale, nearly dropping his knife.

He hurriedly put it back in his pocket. He really did not need anyone getting on his case about him accidentally injuring himself right now.

He rubbed at his nose again. Again, it didn't help, but didn't make it worse either. He wasn't sure if he was grateful for that or not.

Ugh… and without his knife to focus on now…

He took a slow breath in, ignoring the slight shakyness of it, held it for a second, then slowly let it out.

He could ignore it.

…Fuck, it was starting to burn now-

"Hh-hHh-!" Lohen put a hand over his mouth and nose, quickly glancing around to see if anyone was looking at him.

Thankfully, it seemed like everyone else was somehow enraptured by the knight currently leading the meeting. How, Lohen had no idea. The guy was boring as shit.

Still though, it gave him the chance to slowly move from his usual position, until he had managed to sneak his way to the back of the group. He wasn't willing to risk completely leaving, he was sure at the very least Varka had likely noticed him moving towards the back, but so long as he remained at there, everyone's view of him should be obscured enough for him to-

Lohen practically doubled over from the force of the first sneeze that he stifled into silence. Holy shit, that had been more powerful than he had been expecti-

"HihN'Gtt-sh!!"

Fuck, that one had hurt- it felt like all the force behind it had nowhere to go, like it had absolutely slammed into a brick wall. (It didn't seem like he could really keep them quiet for long, which he hadn't expected to be able to anyways. But, at the very least, it seemed like it was quiet enough for not even the knights standing right in front of him to bother turning around.)

The same sensation repeated for the third stifled sneeze. And the fourth. And the fifth. And the-

Archons damn it, what was wrong with him? He didn't usually sneeze this much. The last time he could remember was-

Wait. Didn't one of the other knights say they'd planted some dandelion seeds around the camp a few weeks ago? Something about a reminder of home? Surely those would be full grown by now, so…

Well, Lohen hadn't thought much about it at the time- he'd gone through desensitization therapy after all, it shouldn't affect him anymore.

Based on how he felt right now though…

"HhNG'SHht! heh-h-heHSH'Ngt-!!"

It had to be his dandelion allergy. Nothing else had ever gotten him as intensely as dandelions had, and he should know, he had tested it. Multiple times in fact. He'd even technically done it accidentally on a stealth mission once, which had been both equally thrilling and frustrating. Was it possible for an allergy to come back? He'd have to send a letter to Sucrose and ask. Hopefully without revealing exactly why he was asking, though she'd probably figure it out anyways.

For now though, he had to bring himself under control. He couldn't afford to have everyone's attention on him at the moment.

"Hih-h-hh-hHNn'TSh! hiH'NG'Tt—!!"

Ow.

….That felt good.

And it wasn't- it wasn't like anyone else was paying him any attention right now, immediately. Somehow, he was getting away with this. Again, his stifles weren't exactly silent, but as long as he kept doing it, he could continue to go unnoticed… And it would continue to…

"Hh-hhn-hNG'tt— hN'Ttt— hH-hh-hiH'NGTtsh!! hhHNn'TtSHh!! hhH- heH-hh-hHSH'NGtt—!!"

Archons, this hurt so good, but why couldn't he slow down a little bit and st-sto-

"hIH'NGttsh!! Hh-hih-hHNn'Tshh-!! Hh'NnTt—!! Hh-hhih-h-hhH! ….guh…"

His nose briefly gave him a sort of reprieve, if one could call a lost sneeze such, though the burning itch remained, his nose twitching and red with irritation. Lohen took the opportunity to quickly wipe the allergic tears off of his face, and glance around just to make sure that nobody had noticed anything-

Mika was staring at him.

Fuck.

As soon as they made eye contact, Mika turned and tugged on Grandmaster Varka's sleeve, pointing in Lohen's direction.

Double fuck.

Okay, this was fine. All he had to do was hold back, and Varka would just think Mika was just seeing- seeing t-things-

"Heh-hhH-h-hngh-" He nearly bit his tongue trying to grind his teeth together in an attempt to prevent his breath from continuing to hitch. It didn't work. "Hih-hh-heH-"

And, evidentally, even if he hadn't actually sneezed, his likely visible struggle with it was enough for Varka to start making his way towards him.

Damnnit.

~

Lohen sat cross legged on top of one of the cots in the healing tent, doing his best to look unimpressed.

He failed the instant his gaze turned hazy again, his breath hitching widly before he snapped forwards with another stifled-

"HhHNG'Ttshh!!"

"You're going to explode your brain doing that." Varka said, re-entering the tent, clearly having finished his talk with the healer outside. "Sounds like it hurts too."

"Snf, nngh, it d-hh-hH-! ….it does." Lohen did not elaborate. It didn't seem like Varka had really expected him to.

"Well, the good news is, you're not sick." Varka pulled over a chair, sitting down beside the cot. Lohen rolled his eyes, he could've told them that, if any of them had listened during the quite frankly humiliating period of time wherein Varka had forcibly lifted him up and carried him to the healer's tent. Not that he minded a lil bit of humiliation of course, but still. This would probably be lorded over his head by some of the other knights for days.

Wait. What could the bad news be-

"However, you're not allowed to patrol until you get some allergy medicine into your system."

Lohen experienced a moment of actual shock before he quickly fixed his expression to give Varka the most offended look possible.

"But-"

"No buts."

"I don't want the allergy medicine."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"…." He couldn't just say it was because he was, well, enjoying this. That wasn't really a conversation he wanted to have with Varka of all people. Plus, based on past experience, the Grandmaster probably wouldn't accept it as an excuse anyways, which only left Lohen with the answer of; "It makes me drowsy, I can't f-focus when I'm o-on i-ihH-hhH-hESH'NGtt—!!"

"And how exactly do you plan to focus when your nose is twitching like a bunny?" Varka asked, and Lohen would've responded with a scathing insult, but-

Well, he was a little preoccupied.

"Hh-hIH'HNG'Ttshh!! Heh-h-hH-hihH-hH'N'Gtt-sh!!" The hand he wasn't using to pinch his nose shut subconsciously reached out and gripped onto the edge of the cot. Fuck, he was starting to get dizzy… "Hh-hHNn'TtSHh!! hNnG'Ttsh!! Hh-hhiH- hHnNT'GShh!! Hh-hhiih-"

Varka reached out and pulled Lohen's hand away from his face. At this point, Lohen couldn't really form any sort of protest to the action.

"Hh-hhih-hEH'NXxSHhtt—" He managed to hands free stifle the next one, but- "HhEH'SHhhu!! Hh'ESHhu!! Hh-hihh-h-hh-hEH'CHhuu!! ngh.. guh…."

After a moment of no further hitching, Varka let go of Lohen's hand. Lohen bent over slightly, holding his head in his hands, taking a deep breath in and letting a slow breath out, trying to get the world to stop spinning. It was in some weird way pleasurable, but he really didn't want Varka to have more reason to bench him for longer.

When he finally felt put together enough to look back up, Varka was holding out a pill and a cup of water to him. Lohen glared at him, but Varka didn't seem like he was going to budge on this.