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Before he even dares open his eyes, Czerny knows he pushed himself too hard.
He'd felt the warning signs yesterday. The ache building in his shoulder blades, creeping down his spine like thorns sprouting from a rose stem. That twinge in his neck when he tried to turn his head. A hollowness to his breath, as if his throat already anticipated being scraped raw from coughing fits.
He'd stared the signs dead in the face and ignored them because he'd been too busy. Busy performing, teaching, training, working... living . It had been so long since a day like this, he'd almost thought them left behind in the Afterglow. What damnable hubris.
Czerny wakes up and everything hurts , and if he didn't have to cough so bad he swears he'd never move again.
"Scheiße," he rasps. Feels like all the originum in his body's been shattered and the shards are rattling around his lungs. Water, he should drink some water. His back's to the bedside table. Of course it is. "Come on. Move, William. Move. " All he can manage is clutching the bedsheets tighter.
Time stumbles forward. Czerny hovers at the edge of consciousness.
Someone's knocking. He can tell by the pattern exactly who it is, and somehow his heart simultaneously swells and sloshes into the pit of his stomach.
"Czerny?" Ebenholz calls, the door muffling his voice but not the note of worry ringing through. "Are you alright in there? You didn't show up for lessons today. Your students were worried."
Damn it all; this is the day when his morning's stacked with music lessons. He wracks his mind for any kind of excuse that won't raise alarms. As comforting a sight as his partner would be...he doesn't want anyone to see him like this, much less Ebenholz. "Es tut mir leid. I...overslept. I will be up in a moment."
He expects a sigh of relief, followed by an accusation of pulling another all-nighter in a tone that's lightly exasperated yet teasing. What he gets instead is, "I'm coming in."
"That's not necess—" his claim is interrupted by a coughing fit that rattles his aching frame. Ebenholz is polite enough to at least wait for it to subside before opening the door, sparing anyone else from that brief glimpse of misery.
"You sound awful." Ebenholz's soles click against the floor as he strides over. "You look awful. Do you require a medic? I can fetch Fraulein Hibiscus, or someone else if you'd prefer."
Czerny starts to shake his head and instantly regrets it. "No need. It is just a bad pain day. I am used to them." At least, he had been. Had he really suffered through entire weeks of feeling like this? It feels so long ago. Everything before his farewell concert feels so long ago.
The bed dips as Ebenholz sits next to him and strokes his hair. His partner's touch is more soothing than Czerny would like to admit. "Sometimes, I forget how...advanced your Oripathy is." What does Ebenholz's face look like right now? Is it full of pity? Horror, as he realizes that this is the fate that awaits him too? "Is there anything I can do to help? You haven't been stuck like this for long, I hope."
Czerny sighs. "I must admit, I do not know. I can't see a clock from here." Just the wall. A boring white wall at that. He really needs to decorate this tiny room, beyond his instruments and furniture covered in equal parts paper and half-consumed food. He debates sending Ebenholz away, but even if he were stubborn enough to refuse help at this point, he knows the Caprinae can dig in his heels just as hard. Part of why they get along so well, the occasional argument aside. "Help me sit up. And do ignore if I sound distressed in the process."
There used to be days when Czerny's entire world consisted of his room and the pathway from his bed to the piano. Some days, he couldn't even drag himself that far. He'd compose in bed and sip at whatever Ursula brought him. This is far too stark a reminder of those times, and sadly, Ebenholz is nowhere near as sturdy a hand as Ursula was. But sure enough, they get Czerny upright with minimal jostling and swearing.
"Danke schön, mein liebling." His arms aren't sore, so he can at least reach up and pat the worried Caprinae's shoulder. "Please, do not be scared. These days...they happen sometimes, but they always pass. I will be alright."
"Right. Of course. This...this is how you were before the false recovery from Kreide and I?" It's hard to meet Ebenholz's gaze. He looks so worried, like Czerny is going to break out in crystals and turn to dust before his eyes.
"Most days, yes. Which is why I hurried to hold the farewell concert the moment I felt well enough to do so. Days like this were becoming more common than not. I'm doing much better here at Rhodes Island, but that doesn't erase my condition." He pulls Ebenholz closer, careful to avoid the horns. A warm body with a steady heartbeat is a comfort he's not used to; he hasn't had a partner like Ebenholz since...well, before her , and the space she left wasn't an easy one to fill.
"I'm sorry," Ebenholz mutters into Czerny's chest.
"Whatever for? You did nothing wrong. If anything, your actions in Vysenheim brought us both here. If you hadn't..."
He doesn't want to think about it. About being bedbound again, staring out that tiny window or at empty scraps of paper for hours on end, Ursula fussing over him and so many souls outside waiting for more more more out of him than he felt able to give.
Czerny holds Ebenholz tighter, even if his back protests. "I should be thanking you."
"You almost died because of me."
"But I didn't. And I won't for a good while yet." He manages a deep breath without triggering a cough. Good, progress. "If you'll let me be selfish...could you stay with me awhile?"
"You, selfish? Perhaps I really do need to call a medic over..."
Czerny sighs, which his body uses as an excuse to betray him with another coughing fit. "No, please not yet. I don't want any more people fussing over me than strictly necessary. With any luck, I'll fall back asleep soon and feel better upon waking."
Ebenholz pulls away, still looking concerned but no longer like he's about to panic or cry. Thank goodness; Czerny doesn't think he could handle it, someone else crying over him. The former Graf Urtica calls on an authoritative tone as he says, "I will. But if you will not allow a doctor in right now, you will have to listen to me. And that means taking your medicine and something to eat, without protest. Understood?"
Czerny quirks his lips into what he hopes is close to a smirk. "Your beside manner could use some work, but I suppose I can oblige."
It becomes quite clear that Ebenholz has never really had to care over someone else, as the ex-Noble uncertainly flits around the room, constantly doublechecking what is needed. His awkwardness and earnest desire to help is endearing, which helps the rougher edges of Czerny's mood. The composer gets his medicine down, and a couple bites of food even though hunger is far and away the last thing on his mind. Ebenholz carefully helps him with his braids to keep his wild mane away from his ears. And in lieu of Czerny's more formal shirts, Ebenholz even offers that oversized hoodie he's taken to wearing around on more casual days. It is...more comfortable than Czerny expected, even if he can't tell which of those screeching "rock bands" this hoodie advertises.
"You have enough pillows? You...you did have a bed back there, right?"
"Of course I had a bed, Ebenholz. I wasn't that destitute." That makes his partner wince. Right, he'd mentioned that Kreide hadn't even had a bed...? "The pillows are fine, liebling. I could use a pen and some paper, though."
"Are you well enough to write?"
"I am for the moment, and I'd rather have something on hand for when I tire of staring at the walls." This last bit is said in jest, but his tone apparently doesn't quite match. Ebenholz's ears are drooping so much, one would think them weighed down by all of Terra. "Entschuldigung liebe. I'm afraid my patience is even thinner than normal. Pray forgive me."
"Of course. Here, is this enough? Ah, a pen, let's see...here. Anything else?"
Czerny hums as he looks over the paper. No melody immediately comes to mind. "If you don't mind lingering awhile longer...I would not mind listening to you talk."
"Talk? Whatever about? I must confess, I doubt I have much of interest to say."
"Nonsense. Let me think...well, Ursula would often tell me about goings-on outside. What people were up to, who was getting married or had a child, what performances were slated to occur and how they went...also an awful lot about the love lives of various grocers. An impressively complicated web, that."
That earns a snort out of Ebenholz. "I used to have a gossiping maid like that myself. I never understood what she was going on about, but it was a comfort to hear her talk regardless. I doubt I have such...scintillating rumors." The caprinae hums in thought a long moment. "Oh! I could tell you about the book club? We're in the middle of a fascinating novel right now...oh, do you mind spoilers?"
While both of them grew up in their respective Leithanian cages, there is a special kind of enthusiasm that suffuses Ebenholz's voice when he talks about something new that's grabbed his interest. Books he's read, friends he's made, even those strange rock bands he's taken a shine to...it brings a light to his eyes, a joy to his voice that breaks through his usual melancholy and sarcasm. He gestures as if conjuring whatever he's discussing, those long pale fingers dancing in the air. He'd make a lovely conductor.
There are so many possibilities ahead of Ebenholz, even with his own diagnosis of oripathy. Czerny can only hope to see him along the right path before...
...
"Czerny? Something on your mind?"
Is it selfish of him to keep Ebenholz for himself like this, when he's so sick? He fought and lucked his way back into better health once, but he can't keep making those bets. The bad days will begin to outweigh the good again in time, and what then? He can't trap Ebenholz in another cage when the young caprinae is only just beginning to fly free. Hell, he should be out with friends and learning more about the world instead of wasting his words on a dying man who clings to his music like moss to a freshly felled tree.
"I...was just thinking about how beautiful you are, when you smile like this."
More and more, Czerny is realizing that he's become a coward whenever death comes into the picture.
"You...me? Beautiful? When I..." Ebenholz's face goes bright red as he turns away, echoing the words as he formulates a response. Gives Czerny time to consider his own.
Tell him to go. Turn away. Let the inevitable wash back over, accept that things won't get any better than this moment. There is only more pain in this concerto, and only one way for those final bars to draw to a close.
"Hey. Czerny. William. " There is something so tender, the way Ebenholz says his first name and brings those gentle hands to his face. It's almost out of character, how sweet the caprinae can be when he cares enough. "You're overthinking again."
"Not much else to do when I'm like this, I'm afraid." Czerny closes his eyes. "...I am not much good to anyone like this. Least of all you."
"I don't need you to be good for anything." Their foreheads press together, soft and careful, breaths intermingling. "The one you loved before. You never left her when she fell sick, did you? No matter how ill she got?"
"Nein."
"Would you have done so if she asked?"
"...Nein. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving her to suffer alone."
"The same is true of me. I'm here because I want to be, and because I care about you. So when I say I'm staying, that is exactly what I will do. Understood?"
Czerny exhales, breath shaking on the border of a sob. He just barely manages to reign it in. "You are truly the most stubborn man I have ever laid eyes on, liebling."
"You mean to tell me you have never looked in a mirror?"
A laugh bordering on hollow turns into another coughing fit. He tastes iron and it feels like the stones in his neck are biting deeper into his skin. The day ahead is still a long one, but Ebenholz has a point. They're stubborn fools, the both of them. They've already lived through a nightmare and come out the other side. If the last gasps of the Witch King himself couldn't stop them, what's a bad day like this?
Ebenholz stays. Czerny writes. He's got the bare bones of a new concerto here, dark and foreboding until a flute comes in like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. He's not sure yet if he wants to ask Ebenholz to play in this one, or conduct it. Either way, they'll figure it out together on what he hopes will be a better day.
Everything still hurts. But with Ebenholz next to him as he drifts off, it all hurts a little less.