And your heart is lead, and your stomach stone [closed]

[andhiswife]

Greta sets down her phone and twists her hands together. Jay's back. He's back, and he needs her help, and--and he will have it. It feels like the least she can do, after the embarrassing misunderstanding in her dream, and after all the trouble he and Tim have had lately (which doesn't seem to be letting up, from the sound of things). It feels, a little, like penance for the ill treatment she gave another lad who was far younger but not quite so sad. But mostly it feels like the right thing to do, something she can do. Granted, she'll have to see just what sort of shape Tim is in with her own eyes before she makes any promises, but maybe it won't be so bad. Like a--like an oversized infant who only sleeps and never cries. That sounds manageable, right?

She might be a little too invigorated by this sudden rush of people needing her help and asking for it so plainly.

Jay didn't make any mention of needing food, but she has some freshly made apple turnovers, so she wraps up a couple of them and tucks some teabags into the bundle for good measure. He could probably use something sweet - and something he doesn't have to worry about preparing himself, when he has so much else to worry about.

It's not a long journey to their apartment building, but it feels long, and it's hard not to spend all of it fidgeting. Half a block away, she has her phone out, and she nearly walks into a stranger as she texts him to let him know she's arrived. Then she shoulders her bag, absently patting it to make sure the pastries haven't been crushed, and waits.

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[andhiswife]

"Okay." Greta gives him another gentle pat as she rises from the couch. A few moments later, she sits back down beside him and presses a glass of water into his hand.

"Here we are," she says, her tone almost businesslike, as if to counterbalance the surplus of passion that's been going around. "Drink up." Under different circumstances, she wouldn't be quite so overbearing. But Jay had seemed relieved to let others take the reins when it came to moving Tim to the hospital, and he clearly isn't ready to have them handed back to him, yet.

Well, that's what she's here for. Greta rubs his back gently while she waits for him to finish up the glass.

[deadeyedchild]

He drinks the water as directed, drinking it all down - he was thirstier than he realized. Sets the glass aside and just leans against her, too grateful and too exhausted not to. There's no one to give him this anymore. He was never super affectionate, at least he's pretty sure - always shy and reticent and ducking away from hugs. But he hasn't made that a conscious choice in a long time. Now that it's freely offered he doesn't have it in him to turn it down.

And he's so, so tired.

He slumps against her, still feeling the urge to cry but having nothing left, no tears, just a hollow, relentless headache. He needs to sleep. He can't ever sleep, especially not when he needs it.

Maybe it's that there's someone here this time, warm and soothing, keeping an eye out for him - no longer just relying on the camera to catch whatever's watching him, but a person who can wake him. Not that he'd ever ask her to protect him from his nightmares (no one can), but.

Regardless, he starts drifting off. Impossibly tired. Ground down to almost nothing. He slips away, gradually becoming more horizontal until he's curled up fully on the couch, his head in her lap, his breathing slow, his eyes fluttering in a dream he won't remember.

[andhiswife]

Greta can well imagine that he hasn't been looked after in a while - too old to still be under his mother's care, and too young to be married. Well, not too young by her universe's standards, but people seem to grow up less quickly here in the future, devoting more years to youth since they have more years to spend. Regardless, he needs looking after now, and it's... nice, being able to do this for someone, if not a member of her own family.

The line between leaning against her for comfort and dozing against her is subtle enough that she doesn't realize Jay's crossed it until it's too late, and he's slowly slumping his way down into her lap. She could rouse him, try to coax him to the bed, or at least edge out from under him before he gets too settled. But when was the last time he actually slept? And does she really want to leave him to his own devices and hope he'll take care of himself instead of dwelling on Tim and climbing the walls?

She doesn't have anything more important to do. She can stay for a while longer, and make sure he at least gets some sleep before she risks waking him by seeing herself out.

Greta looks down at the boy who isn't quite a man, and isn't even close to family, and gently brushes her fingertips through his hair. The weight of his head, some distant part of her notes, isn't so different to the weight of an infant.

There's a blanket neatly folded over the back of the couch thanks to her earlier tidying spree. She carefully turns to pull it down and drape it over Jay as best she can, keeping her movements slow so she won't wake him. Then she settles back against the couch with a quiet sigh. She has her phone, and there's still enough of a charge for her to entertain herself for an hour or so, long enough for him to get some rest.

And when he no longer needs her, she tells herself, she'll go.