#thread.colson

Bijan hid his walking stick behind the table in case anyone accidentally walked into it, the cozy cafe wasn't busy at this time of day, but he figured it would soon be when people got done with their shoppings and needed somewhere to rest for a moment. For now, he'd enjoy the silence, as he studied whomever came and went, all those people either jet-lagged or exhausted, simply waiting for the next holiday to come around.

In many ways, he felt lucky that he didn't have to deal with Christmas. He turned back to Colson, studying the other now, a much more favoured past-time. "How is your coffee?" he asked. His eyes were filled with affection for the other, a mutual understanding between two souls that weren't necessarily similar or like-minded, but that had become dependent on each other. "Any plans for New Years?"

Bijan was in the wheelchair that the hospital had provided him, rolling along the hallway with a lot of difficulty. He wasn't so sure he would want to make his way anywhere if it was in this thing, but he'd been assured that it was probably a very stupid idea if he simply got crutches. Luckily he was insured because of his job at the university, else this would've been a horribly difficult venture, one he definitely didn't want to get himself into. No, wheelchair was good.

He leaned forward a bit and tried to make the difficult corner back into his room, struggling to get the angle just right - one might completely forget he was a serious scientist - and almost hitting the wall with his elevated foot. He attempted a second time and rolled back into the private room he'd managed to acquire, only to find Colson seated on his bed. He gave the other a dumb smile - must be the medication - and reached the bed with plenty of struggling. "May I assure you that this happened by no fault of my own, nor am I even certain how it happened. I think perhaps the positivity of the search party had gotten to me," he told Colson.

Bijan was not surprised that Colson wished to participate, nor that it brought him this much excitement to get to share this with his partner. He would've been equally happy to just share Iftar with him, perhaps to tell him all the stories of his time at the mosque, of the other families, of almost missing prayers because he took too long naps. But this was different, because he wouldn't just be telling Colson about it, he'd be guiding him through it.

He set down the tea in front of the other and gently rubbed his back. "How was your day?" he asked.