Into the Light

3. Whiter Shade of Pale

"You're looking better today."

How the hell is it possible that that voice grates on my ears? I don't know, I just know that it does, and badly too. I don't want to open my eyes. I don't want to see his cheerful face, and besides, the toast I managed to swallow a while ago just might stay put where it is, if I don't let myself see that there's a world outside my stomach.

"Fuck you."

"Sorry, but the answer is no." I feel him sitting down beside me. "And I don't think you'd be up to it, either. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," I grind out through the bitter hot sand that fills my mouth. "Let me fucking be."

He doesn't say anything to that. There's just this silence, until I'm suspicious enough to go against all my better knowledge and crack an eye open. Ooh, the room is blissfully dark, his fair hair is shimmering dully in the room.

"Why don't you just pack me away and send me home?" Shit, the croaking that comes out... we aren't exactly sweet-talking today.

"No way, Toni." He leans closer. "I'm not letting you out of my eyes until I can be even reasonably sure that you won't be higher than the weathercock on top of the Old Observatory as soon as I've fully turned my back."

"And would that be such a bad thing?" I have to swallow a couple of times before I can get the rest out without also spewing my first solid meal in fuck knows how long. "At least I'd feel better than right now."

"You're hopeless," he sighs.

"So let me go!" Don't do that, Chaim, or actually I'm not sure if I don't want it after all. I really hate you at times. Like right now. You're so bloody cool, and I love those eyes of yours so much, but why don't you just let me go and get something proper for this headache?

"Toni." Chaim shakes his head. "We're this far already - that you're actually doing your best to quarrel with me! No way am I giving up now."

"Fucking sadist."

"Maybe. Though let me assure you that I don't exactly enjoy seeing you so sick."

"I don't exactly enjoy being this sick!" At least my voice sounds somewhat venomous, but not nearly as venomous as I'd have liked. Well, can't blame me for not trying.

"I know." Those long fingers hover beside my face for a moment, I try to decide whether or not I should attempt to bite them. But that would require jerking my head upwards, and I don't think my insides, or my head, would appreciate that effort overmuch. Then the fingers swipe some hairs aside from my face. It hurts. "Baby brother, what have you done to yourself?"

I snort at that, because it makes my eyes sting strangely, but they immediately sting even more because snorting makes my headache flare up some more. And I'm still not throwing up. "Fucking bastard."

"Why did you start using them again?"

I hate it when he ignores what I say to him. "None of your fucking business."

"I know they're stimulants. I remember well enough what they do. Is that why?"

"Partying is good," I inform him. "I'm not one to stop before I've had enough fun."

"And what is enough? When you drop dead?"

"Aren't you droll today." I'm improving - that actually almost sounded like a snarl.

"It's easier to joke with you when you don't look quite like a corpse," he says calmly. Now that was nasty. Toneior doesn't look like a corpse, ever. I try to glare at him but again he just ignores me. "But, joking aside, I'm really glad that you're getting better. Maybe we won't have to put off our departure quite as much as I feared, after all."

Something clenches into a tight ball inside me, and I'm pretty sure it's not my stomach still being upset about the toast. "Departure? Are you - where are you going?"

"We're traveling to Dirna." So matter-of-factly he says it. "It's a pretty good time to be going, well before the summer season begins. We were going to stay here until the end of this term, then Kim will skip the next, but we'll obviously have to wait still a little longer now."

Now I know that someone is out of his mind, and I'm not that someone. "The hell - to Dirna?"

"Yes, Dirna. You know, city in the extreme south-eastern end of Dorelion. Sun, fun, holidays." Chaim is smiling. I'm not.

"Why? When?"

"Because we want to. Soon."

My hands have begun to shake. "But - you can't! What about me? You goddamn son of a bitch! First you say that you care, and then you're -"

"Toni, don't get worked up!" His hands are so cool. "I do care, although you yourself were pretty adamant, just a moment ago, that I should let you go and finish yourself off. But I'm not letting you, so you can forget about that. Besides, I said we are leaving. Meaning that you're coming too."

Now this is getting just too thick. "Me? To Dirna? To leave Uman? You're crazy, Chaim. Stark raving mad."

"Crazy enough to make sure you do exactly that, Toni boy - come with us to Dirna."

"Why the hell should I? I don't want to. I hate traveling. I'm sick. I'm bloody well not leaving." I'm babbling now, but fuck, I'm desperate.

"I'm going anyway, Toni. Will you really want to stay here, knowing that I'm hundreds of miles away?" He tilts his head. I can only stare, gape, mouth open. "And another thing. Kim has agreed to your coming with us, though of course he doesn't like it. You know you're not exactly his favorite person, but he's agreed to it. If you absolutely refuse to come, well, I'll be very surprised that you'd deliberately do something that will please Kim so much."

Chaim. You fucking manipulative bastard.

"I think I'll let you rest now." He gets up in one fluid motion. "Do you need something?"

I just shake my head. At least it doesn't add to the nausea. And the toast is still hidden from daylight.

"Try to get some sleep," he says gently. "You'll feel a lot better then."

Well, no shit, Chaim sweetheart. I just might feel better. So I just need to decide that I sleep, just like I've so far chosen to be constantly sick, to have nightmares, sweat buckets, have cramps all over my body? Not to mention that you won't let me have anything to make me feel any better. Not a drop of alcohol. No sleeping pills. Those measly painkillers, albeit you had this doctor to see me and prescribe them, they just don't do the trick. They're all you let me have, but they don't fucking help at all.

And now you simply tell me to sleep? How the hell am I supposed to do that?

I squeeze my eyes shut as your hand brushes against the stubble on my cheek. I can feel the grating sound, the roughness, resonating all over my body, and it makes me wince. Gods I'm filthy. And for the first time in - well, what? days? how many? - it occurs to me to wonder what I might look like. My hair is matted. My skin is sticky. I feel disgusting.

"Tomorrow you'll have a bath." Do you read thoughts or what, or do I simply stink? I want that bath right now, but my eyes are closing against my will.

Damn you, Chaim. I used to know every one of your buttons, but it seems I've lost my touch. You still appear to know all of mine, though. Oh shit.