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The apple called to him. It sat in a rucksack at his feet. Altair rested his head in his hands and focused on silence.
It gnawed at him inside. He could feel the pull of its power.
He knew better than to succumb but it was growing louder every day.
He ignored the sharp knock at his door. If Malik wanted something he would barge in regardless.
“There you are,” Malik entered quietly instead, a mere shadow against the dimming light outside. From the sound of him, whatever it was he wanted to discuss was not terribly urgent. Though they were not known to take pleasure in simple conversation, Altair did enjoy Malik’s late night visits, short and sporadic as they were.
“You didn’t take your evening lesson.” Altair continued to rest his weary head, but the whispers inside were gently dispelled with Malik’s clear voice, like wisps of smoke dissipating, the ghosts of a future he could almost see but did not understand.
“Meditation is important, especially now, Altair,” Malik gently rebuked. If Altair had the strength, he would have crawled into bed and buried his swimming head beneath the sheets.
“The apple,” Malik guessed after a moment of silence. Altair kept his eyes closed and listened as he approached the chair. He only opened them when Malik crouched by his feet and reached for the bag.
“Malik,” and even getting that one word out was enough to make his teeth grate. The idea that anyone else would touch the apple, however briefly, was terrifying. The idea that anyone, especially Malik, could be subject to the same burden of knowing…
Malik raised a defiant brow. “Your little apple will not harm me, nor I it. Yet it is time to put it to rest for the night, don’t you think?” He deftly deposited the rucksack in its customary place, a chest hidden underneath his weapons table on the far side of the room.
Altair breathed easier once he heard Malik snap the locks into place.
“You’re going to rot up here all alone with that damned thing.” Malik said, almost affectionately, the reprimand sharp and clear but the tone was agitated. A clear sign that he most definitely cared about Altair’s wellbeing, however stubborn the man may be.
“Come,” Malik grabbed onto Altair’s shoulder, propped him up on his good side. “You should rest.” Altair had been sitting for so long, his legs were tingling with the sudden rush of blood upon standing. They hobbled together to the bed, two aging men, the sight of them briefly flashing in Altair’s mind, a glimpse of a future that would not be. He would have stumbled were it not for Malik supporting him.
The bed was large enough for two grown men, but Altair did not expect Malik to crawl in beside him.
“Hush,” Malik said once he saw what must have been the beginnings of a smile on Altair’s face. “I’m helping you meditate, and hopefully, you’ll have a dreamless sleep tonight.” Malik grumbled, arranging Altair more comfortably on his back, as if he had every right to touch him. “Some proper rest.”
He mirrored Altair’s position, side by side, and began the breathing exercises he was so fond of. Altair could hear the deep breaths, and by habit, fell into sync with him, their chests rising and falling in tandem. The rhythm was calming, and the sound of another’s breath, the warmth of Malik’s presence beside him, began pulling him into slumber. The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was the soft exhalation of Malik slipping into dreams, Malik who had not meant to fall asleep there, but did.