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The optimism sticks around until the next morning. In fact, it gets stronger. Oli wakes well-rested and almost pain-free, except for a twinge in his sole. What is this sorcery? Does magic hot chocolate exist?
He spins the idea in his mind while he sits in bed and waits for the sleep inertia to dissipate, kneading a piece of bread between his fingers. It has orange bits in it. A shredded carrot, most likely, or maybe a pumpkin. All of the baked goods the harengon produce include at least one type of vegetable.
He’s going to be friends with Eddie. That’s something he can definitely do. In fact, he’s close with a lot of people and quite confident in his ability to be a good friend; that’s not a challenge. For Eddie, he’s going to do so much more. He’s going to be the best friend Eddie’s ever had.
There. That sounds like a goal to make the competition tremble.
Oli chomps down on the bread and, holding it between his teeth, and pours himself a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand.
That’s when Eddie walks in.
Oli throws up his arms. ‘Ewwie, my fwiend!’ He swallows. ‘It’s brilliant to see you!’
The harengon freezes in the door like a – well, a startled bunny. Okay, that greeting might have come out a little louder than necessary. Oli clears his throat. ‘How do you do? Did you sleep well?’
Eddie’s nose twitches.
‘I slept really well?’, Oli tries. A familiar warmth creeps up his neck and suffuses his cheeks.
Abruptly, something shifts in the other’s expression. His shoulders relax. He steps into the room, carrying a basket closed off with a towel on top. ‘My apologies; I didn’t expect this much enthusiasm. Good morning.’
‘What can I say?’ Oli says, mostly because he has no idea what to say to that. He eyes the basket.
Eddie comes over with a swing in his gait. ‘I’m sure glad I caught you before all that energy made you bounce right out of bed and down the hallway again.’
Oli grimaces. ‘I wouldn’t have done that.’
One of the harengon’s eyebrows hops almost to his hairline.
‘I don’t “gallivant” around nearly as much as you think,’ Oli grouses, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
‘If only that were true,’ Eddie mutters. He places his load next to Oli’s feet. ‘It’s a good thing I won’t have to worry about it for too long henceforward. In more than one– Ah. No. Not now.’
He breaks off and shakes his head. He pulls off the towel, revealing… more towels, these ones rolled up into thick noodles. Beneath them, rising from the deep, lurk three wooden balls, a weight and a coil that seems to function akin to a resistance band, even though it’s not made of elastic fibre. Several bottles of water, a tub of cream and a few knots of fresh gauze fill the remaining space. Eddie starts unpacking, lining the items up against the footboard.
So it looks like he’s going to administer the physical therapy personally. Oli clears his throat. ‘What did you say again, when I asked about your medical license?’
The harengon’s lips twitch. ‘I’ve done this a hundred times, Oli.’
‘Hundredth-and-first time’s the charm, is that what you’re saying?’
Their eyes meet. Eddie snorts and Oli covers his grin with the back of his hand.
‘I’m glad to see you in such a good mood,’ the harengon says. ‘The past few times you were… not well.’
I’m half a lifetime too late for my soulmate, Oli thinks. And he doesn’t even know it, because he doesn’t feel the bond. He got a family, kids–
He squashes the thought like a bug beneath his mental thumb and quips: ‘The last time you saw me, I was recovering from smoke poisoning.’
‘Which I’m allowed to worry about, too,’ Eddie shoots back. He gestures for Oli to unveil himself.
Oli flips the blanket off his lap and the harengon helps him bunch it up on the other side of the bed, against the wall and out of the way.
In the light of the daytime lanterns, his legs look pale as two sticks of Camembert cheese with knobby knees. Eddie mutters something under his breath that sounds like ‘I’m doubling your portion size,’ grabs a towel and unrolls it.
‘I’d like to open your bandages before we start, to avoid doing any accidental damage,’ he says. ‘Is that alright with you?’
‘Sure, go ahead.’
After the first couple of times, Eddie changing his dressings hasn’t stung at all. How could it, when he’s always so careful where he puts his hands?
He leans over Oli and pushes his fingers beneath the edge of his shorts, easing apart the tucked gauze like Oli himself did yesterday, except way more gently. His bulk looms above Oli; a big, warm shadow smelling of musk and freshly cut wood. Oli’s skin prickles. The hairs on his arms rise, trembling in the air. He holds his breath. He should probably pinch his nose shut as well.
‘Does it hurt?’ Eddie asks.
Oli shakes his head. He doesn’t dare open his mouth while the other is practically right on top of him. He can’t be sure what kind of noise would come out.
‘May I put a hand under your knee? I need to lift your leg.’
‘O-okay.’
Even through the bandage wrapping, he feels the heat radiating off of Eddie’s calloused palm. With his leg now up in the air, his balance shifts. He flings a hand out to steady himself on the mattress.
The rest of the gauze basically falls away on its own. The wound underneath looks to be healing nicely, at least to Oli’s layman’s eyes. In hindsight, not getting himself trained as a healer is turning out to be a bit of a disadvantage. He should really acquire that qualification one of these days.
Fresh scabs cover his ankles and heels, which is to be expected, considering they have seen the most wear and tear – especially tear – in the past forty-two hours.
Eddie spreads the clean towel under Oli’s leg. ‘To begin, I’d like to test the range of movement you have right now, and your muscle strength. Depending on how long that’ll take, we might get started on some smaller exercises after, but we’ll see.’ His lips quirk. ‘Since it’s your first time, I don’t want to tire you out too much.’
You can totally– Oli smacks the thought into the dirt before it even gets a chance to fully form. He’s so good at this “just friends” thing, it’s incredible.
Eddie repositions himself next to the bed, ears cocked at Oli’s legs. ‘I’m going to guide you through a few general movement patterns. We’re not going to test the limits of your joints and muscles yet, so nothing should hurt.’ His voice turns sharp. ‘That means you’re going to tell me if anything hurts. Right, Oli?’
‘Uh, r-right.’
‘I’m going to touch your knee and your heel for now, then I’ll move on to your foot.’
He waits for Oli to give a hum of assent before reaching out.
‘We’re starting on your good side, so you’ll know what you’re getting into later. If you want to stop or pause at any time, just say stop.’
Eddie picks up his leg. Somehow, the touch still comes as a surprise. Oli squeaks.
The harengon’s thumb digs into the curve of his ankle, rubbing the bump of the bone. ‘Relax,’ he soothes. ‘Lie back and let me do the work.’
Oli swallows and does as told. The tips of his hair brush the headboard.
Eddie’s nothing if not systematic. Every joint receives the same treatment: upwards, then down, first the hip, followed by the knee. True to his word, he doesn’t go too far and he does it slowly, too. He focuses on Oli’s ankle when he gets there, rotating it carefully. One of his ears periodically flicks in Oli’s direction, probably to check in. Oli switches between watching and, when the prickling sensation left behind by Eddie’s grip becomes too much, staring at the ceiling.
Eddie taps his shin. ‘Ready for the other one?’
The injured one. Oli nods. ‘Yeah.’
The worst of his wounds has healed by now. His leg’s not at a hundred percent, the skin is still angry and red, but there are no purplish-black, oozing patches any more. The pull only gets uncomfortable when Eddie reaches Oli’s knee, and then later his ankle, because scab doesn’t tend to be very stretchy. The sting zips up Oli’s spine like a greeting from an electric eel. He gasps.
Eddie freezes.
Oli exhales through his teeth, making a hissing sound. He forces his body to relax into the fading ache. ‘I’m good. I’m alright. Keep going.’
‘It’s only going to get more strenuous from here,’ the harengon warns. ‘I’d like to get back to aforementioned joint limits now.’
‘On both legs?’
‘Eventually, yes. But we’re going to start with the fit one.’
That means no pain – at least not immediately. Oli sags into his pillow. ‘Go ahead.’
Eddie’s grip returns to the exact same spots as before. Maybe he really has done this a hundred times. His grasp is just a bit tighter now, strong enough to bend Oli into the positions he wants him in.
He rotates the ankle, then pushes the ball of his foot until Oli thinks he hears his ligaments creak. Pain is like a filament here; a vague awareness that he’s coming up on the edges of what his body can do.
The harengon presses Oli’s heel against the curve of his ass. Holding that position, he folds Oli’s thigh towards his chest. His hamstrings, strained to the limit, groan in protest.
Something sharp and sweet twists low in Oli’s belly.
‘Shh,’ Eddie rumbles. ‘Almost there.’
He leverages more of his weight, even though he wouldn’t need to, to lean Oli into the stretch.
Oli’s blood rushes south so abruptly it leaves him light-headed. His dick, which hasn’t shown interest in anything for nigh on a year now, jumps to attention like it has something to prove. He makes a strangled sound and Eddie lets go of him, holding on for just long enough to ease him back onto the mattress.
Fuck. Fuck, shit, no.
His mind is a wash of white; static and noise. He’s been so good. He’s ignored the burgeoning warmth coursing through his body and the way his skin sung with Eddie’s touch. He deserves to get though this without embarrassing himself.
‘Did I hurt you?’ Eddie asks.
Oli grits his teeth and shakes his head.
‘Would you rather stop than continue?’
‘What, uh– What else is there?’
Because if it’s going to be like this, he’s not sure he can take it. It’s requiring all of his focus not to let the mood his body’s currently going through become any more of a problem. They’re supposed to be friends.
‘Hip joint rotation,’ says Eddie. ‘After that, we’re done.’
‘L–,’ Oli breaks off to wet his lips. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘May I turn you on your side?’
Oli scrambles to comply. Mostly to make sure he rolls towards the wall, hopefully obscuring the problem-he’s-definitely-not-having from Eddie’s view. Friends!
Eddie’s hands settle on his hip and calf. ‘Are you certain?’
‘Yes.’
The harengon hums. He pushes Oli’s leg again, until it’s bent in half. Then he gently tugs it towards himself, spreading his thighs. Oli knows that’s not the intention, but he feels the pull on the inside, the tightness there, and the position– no, shit, he can’t–
His body reacts and there’s no way for him to stop it. Oh, no. No, no, no.
This is not what happens between friends. This is absolutely not friendly stuff.
‘Breathe, Oli.’
He’s going to break out in hysterics, that’s what’s about to occur here. His breath stutters, raspy and wheezing.
Eddie lets go. Oli whimpers at the shift in pressure.
‘I don’t think this is going to work,’ the harengon says softly. ‘Not if you’re in this much pain.’
His whole body feels like it’s on fire, from his toes to the tips of his hair. It’s probably showing it, too, painting him beetroot from his belly-button to his ears. His mouth is so dry he can’t utter a word.
‘That’s completely fine, though,’ says Eddie. ‘We’ll just do shorter sessions until your muscles learn to handle the stretch.’
Wouldn’t that be an easy way out, claiming tiredness and stopping the proceedings right now? Unfortunately, in the long run, more sessions mean more chances for his actually-a-real-problem to happen again. If there’s one thing Oli’s learned about the string and the way it likes to mess with him, it’s that it is gosh darn persistent. Now that his body has awakened like this… He curls up on his side. ‘A-alright.’
He’s a coward.
Fabric rustles. Eddie’s probably starting to pack up the items he brought, now that they’ve not even done the real session. Oli stays where he is and tries to focus on his breathing. In and out. Count the seconds.
‘You did very well today.’
He jolts, hot all over.
‘I mean it,’ says Eddie, who must have seen him twitch. ‘Learning and accepting your limits is a good thing.’
Oli swallows. He just lies there, listening to the bustling behind him until he’s scraped together enough courage to sit up.
A roll of gauze and a tub of cream sit next to his foot.
Eddie comes up to him. ‘Would you like me to re-wrap your leg?’
Oli hesitates. ‘Can I go without? I kind of want to, uh.’ He grabs the blanket and pulls it across his lap. Only then does he manage to relax. ‘Let it breathe?’
‘… If you promise to do it later.’
‘Absolutely.’
Maybe.
The harengon’s done with packing up. Oli remembers something else.
‘What did you want to talk about, earlier, by the way?’
Eddie stops like Oli caught him in the middle of stealing cookies out of his mother’s jar. Or perhaps his spouse’s.
‘Um. I was, well.’
Oli pinches the edge of his blanket between his fingers. ‘Eds?’
He drops the towel in the basket, not bothering to fold it, and straightens. ‘Alright. First of all, I should probably say that you don’t need to consider what I’m about to propose if it makes you uncomfortable.’
Oli raises a brow.
‘You might have noticed a shift in the air recently? The zephyr coming in from the mountains?’
‘No.’
‘Ah. Maybe you haven’t been here long enough,’ Eddie mutters. ‘Sanctuary is approaching its winter season.’
Oli sincerely doubts a place like Sanctuary experiences anything even remotely resembling ‘winter,’ but doesn’t interrupt.
‘Which means there will be people arriving from the outside to visit, primarily for the Feast of the First Church of the Mother of Sunflowers. There will be others, too, who want to pay their respects to the mountain goat gods that populate the surrounding lands, or go search for treasure,’ says Eddie. ‘Then there’s also Sanctuary’s Midnight Bazaar.’
Oli blinks, stunned. He really hadn’t expected this world to have developed far enough yet to include tourism – although most of the things Eddie just mentioned probably still run under ‘pilgrimage.’
‘The point is,’ the harengon continues, ‘We’re preparing for a lot of visitors right now. Some of the families in Sanctuary completely clear out their houses during this time, like Lark’s. They’re moving in with Robin’s folk tomorrow.’
The penny drops. ‘You need the room.’
Eddie winces. ‘The tavern does, yes. I asked around if anyone close-by had a vacancy, but the truth is… the easiest way would be for you to move into the smithy with me.’
‘But isn’t that, um,’ Oli stammers, mostly to give himself a moment to think. His mind twirls like a tumbleweed down the slopes of a mesa biome. There’s a whirring sound in his ears, like the rushing of water; a split-second’s warning preceding a deluge of thoughts.
‘The debris will be cleared out by tonight,’ says Eddie. ‘It’ll take a while to get the workshop repaired with everyone so busy, but we’ll be up and running again within the lunar cycle.’
This is a stupid idea. Oli can still feel his skin fizzing like sparklers; the tightness in his loins. He shouldn’t be considering this.
But on the other hand, he can’t really refuse. The people of Sanctuary have been nothing but kind to him. Eddie most of all, of course, but also the tavern staff, who let him stay here without complaint; brought him food and water and medicine and clean sheets. Now they need the space to house other guests. It’s a no-brainer.
Eddie looks at him expectantly.
‘W-won’t your family mind?’ Oli asks. ‘If you just bring home a random invalid.’
‘You’re hardly either of those,’ says Eddie. ‘But no. My son’s not around at the moment. I guess when he returns we’ll find a solution that suits us all.’
‘Then, uh. Sure.’
Eddie beams at him. ‘Great! I’m going to pick you up tomorrow afternoon.’ He collects the basket, then shoots Oli a look over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. ‘Or do I need to Oli-proof my house before I let you loose in it?’
Oli blinks. ‘P-probably a good idea.’
Eddie laughs; a dark, rumbling, full-bellied laugh, and it’s the most beautiful sound Oli’s ever heard.
Fuck, he’s so screwed.