Jonathan is sitting halfway upright, bleary-eyed and frowning. When he sees Stan, his brows slam together so hard the expression looks painful.
Stan beams. “Morning, sunshine! Heard you had a rough night. Cat got your tongue?”
Jonathan snatches the notepad from his bedside and scribbles so violently the paper tears. He flips it around with a deeper frown.
The ink bleeds on the sheet of paper:Shut the fuck up, Stan!
It’s underlined four times.
Stan clutches his chest. “Wow, how hurtful! And here I am offering laughter. It’s the best medicine, y’know.”
Nil mutters, “No one’s laughing.”
Stan ignores him too. “Maybe charades could be fun!” He crouches beside the bed. “Okay, what is it, boy? Use your hands to describe—”
Jonathan throws the notepad at him. It bounces off Stan’s shoulder.
Stan picks it up, offended. “Really, Jon? Violence? Against a man grieving over your tongue? I mean, it’ssad. How else are you gonna lick balls now?”
Jonathan points sharply at the doorway, then at Stan, then repeats it. Even without speech, the meaning is clear. But Stan ignores it, talking over Jonathan’s garbled sounds.
I walk over, but Nil steps in the way, lowering his voice until it’s only a whisper. “Hey, Em, thought we could talk.”
This close to him, I study Nil’s face. Something about his symmetry eases me. I mirror his posture, relaxing my shoulders, but I see his eyes aren’t as soothed. They dart over to Jonathan, then to Stan, then to me, tracking everything.
“Are you alright?” I ask him.
“I’ve seen worse.” Nil hovers over me. “How about you, Em?”
My heart rate ticks slightly upward at how much closer he moves toward me. It’s so different from him sitting in front of me. He’s the one looking down at me now. “I’m…adjusting,” I manage to say.
Nil’s gaze holds mine for a moment longer. “If you need a break,” he murmurs, “you should take one.”
Behind us, Stan’s now waving Jonathan’s notepad in front of his face. “Jon, buddy. Blink once if you want me to stay. Blink twice if you want me to leave. Blink three times if you want Nil to kiss me quiet.”
He receives two middle fingers instead.
Stan gasps. “That wasn’t an option, Jonathan.”
Nil presses a hand over his eyes. “Stan. Stop bothering him.”
“Bothering him? I’mhelpinghim!”
“You’re not,” Nil says.
Jonathan snatches the notepad and writes something swiftly. He flips the pad toward us.
The note says:Get him out!
Stan squints at it. “Is that aimed at me or Nil? Be specific, man.”
Nil’s hand aims toward Stan’s collar, looking as if he intends to drag him away by force.
Stan holds up both hands as Nil closes the distance. “Okay, okay, truce!” He glances between Jonathan’s glare and Nil’s frown. “I will graciously remove myself from Tongue Tribunal,ifEm agrees to eat a real meal. Like proper meals.With us.”
Nil’s eyes narrow on mine. “You haven’t eaten, Em.”
I hesitate, buying time by adjusting Jonathan’s blanket again. “Consider it done, after I administer his dose.”
