Work Text:
"Are you staying up late again? Has the night program started working again?" Conan plopped down next to Elric, who was sitting in tattered pajamas on a shabby couch wrapped in his hideous orange-green blanket. The couch creaked heavily and the guys stared at each other for a moment, but luckily it hadn't cracked yet. They will definitely have to buy a new one, even though they didn't have enough money to even think about that privilege.
"Nah. By midnight, all the programs are off, so it's not even worth turning the TV on unless you want it to buzz." Elric leaned onto his elbow while rubbing his stomach and back with his hand.
"What's wrong with you?" Conan looked at him.
"Nothing." Elric shook his head, but the pain made him breathe shallowly.
"That's your so-called 'medicinal blanket'. You never use it unless something hurts you. Did you freeze last night when we were walking by the quay after the party? I keep telling you not to go bare-backed when you're sweating." Conan leaned over to touch Elric's forehead.
"You're not hot."
"Maybe from your perspective, but I'm not sick either.." Elric pushed his hand away. "Don't touch me."
"Well, if you're going to fight, then there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. Have you seen the doctor?"
Elric snorted "You must think I'm made of glass if I have to go to the hospital for this."
"I'm asking about the results about those tumors they found. They’ve been late for some time. Some moron lost them or something." Conan put his feet up on the couch. Elric tucked his own under the blanket.
"Ah, that." Elric said absently. He fell silent for a while. Despite his tendencies for moody silence, Conan immediately knew this was not a good silence for Elric.
"Have you been then?" Conan bent down to reach for the bottle of beer Elric had left on the floor next to the couch, but Elric stopped him. "Don't. I drank from there already." They were already at the point where they could share food and drinks with no issue, but with Elric's illness flaring up, they had to be cautious now and again. Elric folded his hands over his feet. They were cold even through the blanket.
"They said I still have a chance of getting cancer." he said calmly, but Conan noticed that his voice was trembling subtly.
"What do you expect when you smoke all the time." Conan immediately blurted out, but his tone was somewhat sympathetic. Elric raised an eyebrow. Typical bluntness.
"It's not the lungs." Elric threw himself onto the pillow he had placed under his back. Conan seemed to expect more information.
"Oh, right, I forgot. Is it leukemia?" Conan tired again. Elric sighed and reached for the lighter that was on the table instead of answering. Conan grabbed it before the albino could reach it.
"Oh, no! We said no smoking in the living room." Elric pouted, but didn't protest. "I can't get the smoke out for weeks when you get the blues and smoke the whole pack. I'll probably end up with cancer myself if this keeps on." he threw the lighter across the room.
"Well, I’m definitely biting the dust before I'm 30, so there's no need for me to be so careful." Elric laughed, but Conan didn't find it funny.
"I told you the other day. I hate people who take life for granted."
"Well it's not like we're exactly friends." Elric said grimly and crossed his arms. Conan frowned but remained silent. That was yet again one of Elric’s haughty looks he hated. As if he knew better than anyone else, even with his mind so plainly clouded with his grim and nihilistic mindset. He wondered how a smart person could be so unaware of himself. "It's not like you'd be too sorry if I was gone." Elric added and put his head down on his hands.
Conan exhaled in frustration, then suddenly got up and left.
Elric didn't even seem to notice. They had outbursts like this before, but Conan would always have a remark or a more heated reaction which could in fact shut the Melnibonean up on occasion. But over time, Conan saw that the albino bitched about his fate like a professional mourner, and yet did nothing about it to fix it. It's as if he enjoyed suffering, that the reason he whines at all is because he likes to feel bad about himself. Of course, Elric denied again and again that he loves grief and was outraged that the cimmerian would even suggest something so ludicrous, but even then he didn't have the strength or counterarguments to prove his point. They could not find themselves on the same level of their philosophies. One so simple and other so self-destructive.
The sound of a door slamming startled Elric. The cimmerian ran to his own room bare-backed and came back to the living room in a loose white T-shirt that he liked to wear when nights got too cold. (the heating in their flat didn't start until the middle of the month, so Elric often had to sleep in jackets when his anemia got bad). Elric saw that Conan had brought a thick blanket from his room and left it on the couch. Elric pulled it over his feet to warm them up.
From the kitchen, Elric heard the kettle whistling. Minutes later, Conan brought snacks and a couple of hot drinks. Then he played an already opened music player on Elric's old laptop.
“I don’t like psychedelic rock, just so you know.” Conan said to Elric, as if this was some big sacrifice he was making. Then, to the Melnibonean's surprise, the cimmerian picked him up into his arms (with the ugly blanket). Elric squealed "Let me go, I'll fall!"
Conan rolled his eyes. Despite the perfect mask of calmness and grace, Elric did have tendencies for immature behavior, which were by now no surprise to the cimmerian. “Sure, I’ll let you go. That’ll stop you from falling. Hold on for a second.” And he sat back in Elric's spot on the couch, with the albino in a half-embrace, pulling the blanket he had brought over both of them.
"This is inappropriate." Elric looked through the darkness of the room as he felt the cimmerian’s heartbeat on his back. The arms that were hugging him were hot, but only because his body was cold. He felt odd. Uncomfortable, safe, confused, and… content. At least at this moment.
"Shut up for once, and calm down." Conan snapped at him, but his voice was quieter, as if he was getting tired himself. Elric considered continuing to argue, but found that the sound of the music actually pleased him, and decided to instead focus on the sound of guitars and soft vocals.
"I made some coffee." Conan said.
"Is it-" Elric began.
"Decaf. No sugar, a little bit of chocolate sprinkled on top." Conan took a sip of his own bland coffee. "You need something warm in your stomach. That usually takes a little edge off you."
Elric fell silent. He took small sips of the beverage, taking in the sounds of space on the playlist as the songs changed. Conan downed his coffee and shifted so that he was now in a lying position. A song caught Elric's attention.
"What band is this?" he asked, putting his empty mug down.
“I don't know. That's your playlist” Conan mumbled.
“Sounds familiar.” Elric mumbled back, lying down himself and leaning his head onto the strong, tanned arms around him.
“Iron butterfly?” Conan offered, so close to sleep.
Elric laughed “You’re actually right for once, cimmerian.”