Chapter Text
he first thing Liam noticed was that Arvid had stopped drinking coffee.
It was not, by itself, particularly alarming. Half the paddock survived on caffeine and the other half periodically swore it off after a nutritionist frightened them with a graph. Drivers abandoned coffee for electrolyte mixtures, beetroot shots, liquids the colour of pond water and powders promising improvements too small to feel outside a laboratory.
Arvid, however, liked coffee.
He took it black before morning briefings and ruined it with too much sugar after evening sessions. He drank it while studying telemetry, one hand wrapped around the cup long after its contents had gone cold. On difficult weekends, the empty cups accumulated beside his laptop until somebody from hospitality collected them.
By Friday evening in Singapore, he had not touched one all day.
The cup beside him in the engineering room remained full. A thin skin had formed across its surface beneath the air-conditioning, unbroken except where the overhead lights shone against it.
Arvid sat with his shoulders drawn in and his arms folded tightly across his chest while one of the performance engineers spoke through the long-run data. There was nothing obviously wrong with him. His answers came at the right moments. When the conversation moved towards the instability both drivers had reported through the faster corners, he enlarged the relevant trace and asked whether the rear suspension was reaching the end of its travel.
Nobody else appeared to notice that he had been staring at the same section of telemetry for almost a minute without blinking.
Liam looked away.
It was none of his business. That had been the foundation of their working relationship from the beginning: Arvid drove his car, Liam drove his, and the engineering team attempted to find useful conclusions in the narrow space where their opinions overlapped. They were not friends. They did not spend time together outside the circuit unless a sponsor had arranged it and placed cameras nearby. They were perfectly capable of sharing a garage without sharing anything more personal than brake temperatures.
There was also a specific list of things Liam was not supposed to notice.
The medical briefing before the season had been clear. Arvid’s condition was private. It presented no risk to anybody in the team under ordinary circumstances, and every possible precaution had been taken to ensure circumstances remained ordinary. Liam had signed a confidentiality agreement thick enough to stun somebody with and sat through a forty-minute presentation about emergency protocols.
Most of it had seemed excessive at the time.
Arvid was a vampire. He was not contagious, immortal or likely to turn into a bat. He could eat ordinary food, go outside in daylight and appear in photographs. Silver irritated his skin but did not burn it. Garlic did nothing beyond making him complain about the smell.
Blood was not the only thing he could consume. It was simply the only thing his body could properly live on.
The team transported sealed medical packs to every race and kept them in a locked refrigerator accessible to Arvid, his trainer and two members of the medical staff. Liam had never seen him use one. As far as he knew, Arvid fed privately at the hotel and arrived at the circuit as prepared as anybody else.
Except that afternoon Liam had passed the medical room and seen a technician kneeling in front of the refrigerator with its back panel removed. Melted ice packs and condensation-soaked labels had covered the floor around him.
The long-run meeting ended shortly after midnight. Engineers closed laptops and gathered loose papers while the sound of another team’s car carried faintly through the walls. Outside, the pit lane remained washed in white light, every surface unnaturally bright against the black sky.
Arvid stood too quickly.
His hand caught the edge of the table. The movement lasted less than a second, disguised almost immediately as an attempt to retrieve his tablet, but Liam saw the colour leave his already pale face.
Jonas, Arvid’s engineer, looked up from the run plan he had been annotating. His pen remained poised above the paper.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Fine.” Arvid tucked the tablet beneath his arm and forced his fingers to loosen around it. “Just tired.”
Jonas studied him for another moment. A faint line appeared between his eyebrows, but the room was already emptying and somebody near the door had begun asking him about the following morning’s schedule.
“You’re not needed for the systems meeting,” he said, turning his chair partially towards them. “Go back to the hotel.”
Arvid nodded without meeting his eyes. “I will.”
He made it as far as the corridor before stopping.
Liam remained in his seat, pretending to reread a line of data while the last few engineers filed out. He waited long enough to tell himself that he was giving Arvid privacy rather than avoiding responsibility. Then he locked his tablet, pushed his chair back and followed.
The corridor behind the engineering offices was empty. The temporary walls did little to contain the noise from the garage, but the passage itself felt strangely removed from it, cooled to an uncomfortable degree by the building’s air-conditioning.
Arvid stood near the fire door with one hand flattened against the wall and his head lowered. His other arm was pressed tightly across his stomach.
“Arvid?” Liam spoke quietly, but the sound still made Arvid’s shoulders stiffen.
“I said I’m fine.” Arvid did not turn around. His fingers flexed once against the wall, searching for a better grip.
“You said that to Jonas.”
Arvid lifted his head. After taking a slow breath, he turned and leaned one shoulder against the wall as though he had stopped there deliberately. “I didn’t realise the answer changed depending on who asked.”
Liam studied him. Under the fluorescent lights, Arvid’s face appeared bloodless. Faint shadows had settled beneath his eyes, dark enough to resemble bruises, and his mouth was held in a thin, tense line.
“Is this about the refrigerator?” Liam asked, lowering his voice further.
For the first time that day, Arvid looked fully alert. His body went still. Only his eyes moved, flicking towards the doors at either end of the corridor before settling on Liam.
“What refrigerator?”
“The one in medical that somebody had in pieces earlier.”
Arvid pushed away from the wall. He straightened his shirt with one hand, but the attempt at casualness came too late. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re a terrible liar when you’re tired.”
A flash of irritation crossed Arvid’s face. “And you’re imagining things when you’re nosy.”
He stepped forward, clearly intending to pass Liam and end the conversation but his knees folded beneath him. Liam caught him beneath the arms before he reached the floor. Arvid’s tablet slipped free and struck the carpet with a muffled crack, its screen flashing once before going dark.
For somebody whose skin always ran cool, Arvid’s felt frighteningly cold through the thin fabric of his team shirt. There was none of the usual resistance in his body. For one alarming second, his entire weight sagged against Liam.
“Don’t.” Arvid pushed weakly at Liam’s wrist, his fingertips failing to find any strength. “Let go.”
“I’m not dropping you.” Liam tightened his grip and pulled him upright. Arvid’s shoes scraped across the carpet as he struggled to get his feet beneath himself.
“Somebody could come through that door,” Arvid whispered. His gaze remained fixed on the far end of the corridor.
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
Arvid finally looked at him. “Yes.”
The answer emerged with enough force to expose the points of his canine teeth. Arvid froze in place. His mouth closed immediately, but the glimpse had been unmistakable. For a moment neither of them moved. Liam could feel the rapid, shallow pull of Arvid’s breathing against his forearm. Then Arvid turned his face away and covered his mouth with the back of one hand.
“Right.” Liam shifted Arvid’s arm more securely around his shoulders. “We’re finding somewhere private.”
“I can walk.” Arvid attempted to draw himself upright. His legs trembled hard enough that the movement only drove more of his weight against Liam.
“Can you?” Liam asked.
Arvid directed a glare at him. It might have been more convincing if Liam had not still been holding him up. The physio room was three doors away. Liam manoeuvred them towards it, bending awkwardly to collect Arvid’s fallen tablet before pushing the door open with his shoulder. The room was unoccupied. A treatment table stood beneath a row of locked cupboards, its paper covering still creased from whoever had used it last. Foam rollers and resistance bands had been stacked in colour-coded baskets along the wall. Once Liam had closed the door behind them, Arvid pulled away. He managed two unsteady steps before sitting heavily on the treatment table. One hand closed around its padded edge. The tendons across the back of it stood out beneath his skin.
Liam turned the lock.
“Don’t do that.” Arvid’s head came up at the click. He glanced towards the door, then at the narrow window set into it.
“I’m not leaving it open,” Liam said.
“It looks suspicious.”
“So does collapsing in the corridor.”
“I did not collapse.” Arvid’s eyes narrowed, but there was little force behind the expression.
Liam glanced pointedly at the place where Arvid’s knees had given way and Arvid shut his eyes in silent acceptance. His shoulders dropped as he released an uneven breath through his nose.
“The flight carrying the replacement supply was delayed,” he admitted.
Liam remained beside the door. “How long?”
“It should arrive tomorrow.”
“You know that wasn’t what I asked.”
Arvid opened his eyes. His jaw tightened, sharpening the hollows beneath his cheekbones. His lips had begun to lose their colour as well, except for a faint red line where one pointed tooth had caught the lower one.
Liam folded his arms. “When did you last feed?”
Arvid looked away. “Tuesday.”
It was now early Saturday morning. Liam remembered enough from the medical presentation to know that three days was approaching the limit during an ordinary week. A race weekend was not ordinary. Heat, physical exertion and the repeated spikes in heart rate burned through whatever Arvid’s body stored far more quickly.
“Why didn’t you tell someone?”
“I did.” Arvid dragged one hand over his face. The movement looked tired rather than frustrated. “They’re fixing it.”
“Tomorrow isn’t much use when you can’t even stand tonight.”
“There are contingency suppliers in the city. Medical is contacting them.”
“And until then?”
Arvid planted both palms against the table, preparing to push himself upright again. “I go to bed.”
“You nearly went to bed on the corridor floor.”
“I’m not having this conversation with you.” Arvid slid off the table. The moment he stood, his eyes changed. Liam had seen photographs included in the emergency presentation: enlarged pupils, darkened irises, the fine branching of veins beneath the lower eyelids. The clinical images had made the symptoms appear distant and manageable. They had not captured the way hunger stripped the warmth from Arvid’s face or how completely his attention fixed on the pulse in Liam’s throat.
Arvid stumbled backwards.
His hip struck the treatment table, sending a metal tray rattling against the wall. One of his hands rose to cover his mouth again while the other groped for the table behind him.
“Go,” He said. The word came out rough and breathless.
Liam remained by the door. “Arvid—”
“Get out.” Arvid’s voice cracked around his teeth. He turned his head sharply and stared at the blank wall as though it required every part of his concentration. Liam suddenly became very aware of his own heartbeat. The room was quiet enough that he could hear it, or imagined he could: a steady beat beneath the low mechanical breath of the air-conditioning. Arvid could certainly hear it. He could probably smell the blood moving beneath Liam’s skin. That thought, Liam decided, definitely should have frightened him more than it did. Instead, Liam found himself remembering the final slide of the emergency briefing. In the event that no stored supply is available, direct feeding may be performed with a consenting compatible donor under medical supervision.
Compatibility testing had been included in both drivers’ preseason physicals. Liam had complained about the extra vial without asking why it was necessary. He believed he knew why now.
“What blood type do you need?” he asked.
Arvid’s head turned a fraction in his direction. “No.”
“I’m compatible, aren’t I?”
“No.” Arvid’s fingers curled against the table until his knuckles lightened.
“That sounded less like an answer and more like a refusal, Arvid.” Liam said.
“It was both.”
Liam watched the unsteady rise and fall of his shoulders. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want your blood.”
The answer came too quickly. Liam folded his arms more tightly. “You’re staring at my neck.”
Arvid’s eyes snapped back to his face.
“Sorry,” Liam added, touching two fingers to his collar. “Were you admiring the shirt?”
A muscle jumped in Arvid’s jaw. “You think this is funny?”
“Arvid, Of course not.” Liam let his hand fall. Some of his own unease escaped in the breath he released. “I think you’re frightened,” he continued. “And being sarcastic is stopping me from admitting that I might be as well.”
That, surprisingly, silenced Arvid. Beyond the locked door, footsteps travelled along the corridor. Voices approached with them, close enough that Liam could distinguish the words tyre allocation before they passed. Arvid held himself motionless until both footsteps and voices had faded.
Liam lowered his arms. “If you don’t think you can stop, tell me. If there’s a genuine risk, I’ll get the doctor and we’ll find another way. But don’t say no because you’ve decided for me that I shouldn’t be willing.”
Arvid’s gaze dropped towards Liam’s wrist. The hunger in it was unmistakable. So was the shame that followed. He looked away so quickly it was as if he had caught himself doing something obscene.
“I’ve never fed from somebody on a race weekend,” he said. His voice had grown quieter. Liam moved a little closer so they would not need to raise their voices.
“Not directly?” Liam asked.
Arvid shook his head. “Not since I started racing internationally.”
“Why?”
“Stored blood is measured.” Arvid ran his thumb repeatedly over the edge of the treatment table. “Controlled. And it doesn't have... opinions afterwards.”
Liam stopped several feet away. “What sort of opinions?”
Arvid gave a small, humourless laugh. His attention remained fixed on his moving thumb. “That it was more intimate than they expected. That I owe them something because they let me.” His thumb stopped. “That they’ve changed their mind once it’s already done. Disgust”
Liam barely caught the last few words. He thought of Arvid at sixteen, then seventeen, then eighteen, moving from one championship to the next with cameras waiting outside every garage and strangers who thought watching him race gave them some claim on the rest of him. He tried to imagine carrying that hunger through all of it, learning that someone could say yes without asking for anything, then decide afterwards what he owed them.
“You won’t owe me anything,” Liam said.
Arvid looked up. His expression was guarded, but something vulnerable moved beneath it. “You can’t know how you’ll feel.”
“No,” Liam conceded. “But I know how I feel now.”
“You don’t even like me.” The bluntness of it caught Liam off guard. Arvid’s face remained carefully neutral, but his fingers had resumed their restless movement against the table.
“I don’t dislike you,” Liam said.
Arvid raised his eyebrows.
“Fine.” Liam shifted his weight and glanced towards the ceiling. “Sometimes you irritate me.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“You irritate me because you ask six questions before I’ve finished answering the first one.” Liam began counting against his fingers. “You leave wet towels on the floor of the driver room. You tap your pen against the table during briefings and somehow never notice you’re doing it.”
“I don’t do that.” The offended crease between Arvid’s eyebrows would have been convincing if Liam had not listened to the tapping for three consecutive races.
“You do,” Liam said. “Constantly.”
“This is a strange way to persuade me to bite you.”
“I’m saying I know enough about you to find you annoying.” Liam lowered his hand. “That isn’t the same as wanting you to suffer.”
Some of the tension left Arvid’s face. Not much, but enough for him to look exhausted again instead of dangerous. Liam pushed away from the door. Arvid immediately straightened. His hands gripped the treatment table on either side of him.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming closer.”
“I can see that.”
“Then it was a poor question.”
“Liam.” There was a warning in his voice now. Liam stopped beyond arm’s reach.
“Tell me what happens,” he said.
Arvid swallowed. The movement drew Liam’s attention to his throat. “It depends where.”
“Wrist?”
Arvid looked at Liam’s hands. “Too easy to damage if you move unexpectedly. The inside of the elbow is safer, but it’s difficult to hide.”
They both looked at Liam’s bare forearms in silence.
“Shoulder?” Liam asked.
“Possible… but painful for you. And slow.”
“Neck?”
Arvid’s expression closed. His eyes rose immediately to Liam’s face.
“That was apparently the wrong suggestion,” Liam said.
“...It’s the fastest.” Arvid’s fingers shifted against the table.
“And?” Liam prompted.
Arvid looked down. “And the hardest to stop.”
Liam considered the distance between them, the locked door and the race waiting at the end of the weekend. “Shoulder, then.”
Arvid was silent for so long that Liam thought he would refuse again. Eventually, he turned towards a cupboard above the sink. His hands shook badly enough that he missed the handle on the first attempt. He swore beneath his breath, steadied his wrist with his other hand and tried again. Inside were sterile dressings, antiseptic wipes and rolls of medical tape. He collected what he needed with the careful movements of somebody forcing his body to remember a familiar sequence.
“Sit down,” he said without looking at Liam.
Liam crossed the room and sat on the end of the treatment table. The paper covering crackled beneath him. Arvid dragged a wheeled stool across the floor and positioned it in front of him, leaving a deliberate stretch of space between Liam’s knees and his own. Up close, the signs of hunger were harder to ignore. Fine shadows followed the veins at Arvid’s temples. His lips were parted around teeth he could no longer fully conceal. His breath came more quickly now, each inhale shallow and controlled.
“We need a signal,” Arvid said.
He placed the medical supplies beside Liam, arranging them twice before appearing satisfied with their order.
“A signal?” Liam asked.
“For me to stop.”
“I could say stop.”
“You might not be able to speak immediately.” Arvid’s hands became still.
Liam noted that this small detail had not been included in the presentation. Liam tried not to let his concern show as he spoke, “Why?”
“Vampire saliva has a mild… sedative effect. It keeps people still and slows the pain response.”
“How mild do you consider mild?”
“That depends on the person.”
“How comforting.”
Arvid raised his head. His darkened eyes searched Liam’s face. “If you want to change your mind, do it now.” The hope beneath the offer was painful in its transparency. Arvid wanted Liam to give him permission to escape the decision.
Instead, Liam rested his left hand on Arvid’s knee and his whole body went rigid. “I’ll tap twice,” Liam said.
Arvid stared in silence at the hand resting against him.
“Two taps means stop,” Liam continued. “And if you feel yourself losing control, you stop whether I tap or not.”
Arvid’s gaze travelled slowly back to his face. “You make it sound simple.”
“It is simple.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Okay, maybe not. But the rule is.”
Arvid looked at him for several seconds before nodding once. His fingers were cold when they touched the collar of Liam’s shirt. He paused there, his knuckles resting against Liam’s throat, giving him another opportunity to pull away. When Liam remained still, Arvid eased the fabric aside. The back of his fingers brushed Liam’s neck.
Liam’s pulse stumbled. Arvid noticed. His attention sharpened, and his hand stopped moving.
“Still willing?” he asked.
“Yes.” The word emerged less steadily than Liam intended.
Arvid’s eyes remained on his for one more searching moment. Then he shifted closer. He did not bite immediately. His breath moved across Liam’s skin first, cold enough to raise goosebumps along his arms. One hand settled against the back of Liam’s shoulder while the other remained braced on the edge of the table, as though he did not trust himself to touch more than necessary.
“Last chance,” Arvid murmured. His voice had changed. It was lower, roughened by the effort of restraint. Liam turned his face away to give him room. His fingers tightened slightly around Arvid’s knee.
“Do it.”
The first touch of Arvid’s mouth was almost gentle. Then his teeth broke the skin. Pain arrived bright and precise, sharper than a needle and gone almost before Liam could react. His fingers closed reflexively around Arvid’s knee.
Arvid went completely still. He did not drink. He held himself there, waiting, the tension in his body visible in the rigid line of his back.
“I’m fine,” Liam breathed.
Arvid’s grip tightened against his shoulder, the pull that followed felt nothing like Liam had expected. There was pressure, then warmth spreading outwards from the bite, sinking through muscle and bone until the tension left his body one careful piece at a time. The air-conditioning seemed to recede. The garage beyond the walls became impossibly distant as Arvid made a quiet sound against his neck. It was not monstrous. It was not even particularly frightening. It just sounded relieved. And what was somehow worse, Liam found himself relishing in it.
Liam had prepared himself to feel used. He had not prepared for the terrible vulnerability of being needed by somebody who hated needing anything. Arvid drank slowly at first. Each swallow moved against Liam’s shoulder. As warmth continued to spread beneath his skin, the points where their bodies touched grew strangely distinct: Arvid’s hand at his back, the side of his knee against Liam’s, the soft drag of his hair beneath Liam’s jaw.
Liam’s hand relaxed against Arvid’s leg.
The dizziness came gradually. He blinked at the row of cupboards opposite him. Their edges had begun to blur. When he tried to focus on the labels attached to them, the words seemed to slip sideways.
He tapped Arvid’s knee twice.
Arvid released him instantly. The sudden absence of his mouth left the room cold. Arvid turned his face away, one hand covering his lips while the other remained on Liam’s shoulder to steady him. His breathing came in short, controlled bursts. Liam swayed, causing Arvid to move back towards him. His hand slid from Liam’s shoulder to the centre of his chest, preventing him from tipping forward.
“You need to lie down.”
“I’m all right.”
“All right? You nearly fell off the table.” Arvid rose from the stool and guided Liam backwards, his movements more certain than they had been minutes earlier.
“Mmm, no, I just… moved slightly,” Liam protested.
“I know what it's like. You stopped being able to focus your eyes.”
Liam, unlike his usual self, could not help the childish chuckle that left his mouth, “Well, that's more concerning.”
“Lie down, Liam.”
There was enough fear in the command that Liam obeyed. The paper covering crackled beneath him. Arvid raised the lower half of the table and pushed a folded towel beneath Liam’s legs, movements brisk now that the colour had begun returning to his face. His eyes had lightened to their usual brown. The fine veins beneath them were already fading.
He tore open a sterile dressing and pressed it against the bite.
Liam hissed. His shoulder jerked beneath Arvid’s fingers. “Oh God, that hurts more than the teeth did.”
“The sedative is wearing off.” Arvid eased the pressure slightly but did not remove the dressing.
“Well that’s fucking efficient. Only lasts long enough to give a false sense of safety.”
Arvid did not answer. His renewed strength made the tremor in his hands more noticeable rather than less. Blood marked the corner of his mouth. When he noticed Liam looking, he wiped it away so sharply that the heel of his palm scraped across his skin.
“You stopped,” Liam said.
Arvid kept his attention on the dressing. “You told me to.”
“You sounded rather worried that you wouldn’t so I wasn't really expecting you too.”
“I was. Always was, for you.” Arvid tore off a length of medical tape. It stuck briefly to his glove, and his mouth tightened as he pulled it free.
Liam wasn't sure if Arvid was currently in a great mindset but he took his statement to heart anyway. “But you did,” Liam said.
Arvid smoothed the tape over one side of the dressing. He avoided Liam’s eyes while securing the other.
“You should drink something,” he said. “Water first. Electrolytes when we get back to hospitality. You need sugar as well.”
“Are you going to find me a biscuit to top it off?”
Arvid’s hands stopped against his shoulder. “This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not joking.” Liam shifted carefully, testing whether the ceiling remained still above him. “I’d like a biscuit.”
Arvid stared down at him. The life had returned to his face, bringing with it an expression Liam had seen after mistakes in the car: anger directed so completely inwards that anybody standing nearby risked being burned by it.
“I could have hurt you,” he said.
“You didn’t.”
“I took way too much.”
“You stopped when I asked.”
“You shouldn’t have needed to ask.”
“That was kinda the point of the signal.”
“I should have known better. Especially when it was your first time.” Arvid stepped away from the table. His arms folded protectively across his chest, closing off the space between them.
“You hadn’t fed in three days,” Liam said.
“That isn’t an excuse.” Arvid gathered the used wrappers from beside Liam and threw them into the medical bin. Each landed with unnecessary force.
“No,” Liam agreed. “But it sure as hell is a reason.”
“I’m getting the doctor.” Arvid gripped the edge of the sink. He bowed his head, his shoulders still drawn tight.
“Absolutely not.”
Arvid turned. “You’re dizzy.”
“I’m not letting you announce this to the medical team as if you attacked me.”
“They need to check you.”
“Then tell them I donated.” Liam raised himself onto his elbows. The room tilted briefly before settling. “Don’t make it sound like something you did wrong.”
Arvid’s fingers tightened around the sink. “Why do you care how it sounds?”
Liam looked at him pointedly. Arvid’s posture had changed now that he could stand without help. He held himself straighter, but the defensive set of his shoulders remained. Hunger had not created that. It had only made it impossible to hide.
“Because you didn’t do anything wrong,” Liam said.
Arvid bowed his head again, the silence stretched until the vibration of a wheel gun travelled through the floor beneath them.
When Arvid finally spoke, his voice was so quiet Liam nearly missed it. “You don’t know what it’s like to spend your entire life proving that you’re safe, then lose control because somebody packed a refrigerator badly.”
Liam sat up slowly. He kept one hand braced beside his hip until he was certain he could remain upright. “Arivd, look at me. You didn’t lose control.”
Arvid released a small, broken laugh. “I wanted to.”
That admission seemed to cost him something. He turned. The returning colour in his face made him look younger, especially with his hair disordered where Liam’s cheek had pressed against it.
“I could hear your heart before you came into the room,” he said. His eyes flicked once towards Liam’s neck before returning to his face. “I knew you were following me. I kept thinking that if you came close enough, I could—”
He suddenly stopped. His jaw worked as though the rest of the sentence had lodged behind his teeth.
“You could what?” Liam asked gently.
Arvid’s gaze moved unwillingly towards the dressing at Liam’s shoulder.
“Make you stay.”
Something tightened in Liam’s chest. He watched Arvid turn away from him as if the confession had made him unbearable to look at.
“You didn’t,” Liam said.
“I thought about it.”
“People often think about doing things they would never actually do.”
“You don’t understand.” Arvid dragged both hands through his hair and gripped the back of his neck.
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t.”
“You keep saying that when you really mean you don’t want to.”
Arvid looked as though he might argue. His lips parted, but no answer came. Instead, he sat on the wheeled stool and lowered his face into his hands. For several seconds, Liam could see only the crown of his head and the narrow movement of his back as he breathed.
“I hate it,” Arvid said. The words were muffled by his palms.
Liam swung his legs carefully over the side of the table. “Hate what?”
Arvid lowered his hands. His eyes remained fixed on the floor between his shoes. “That it feels good.”
Liam did not know what answer Arvid expected. Reassurance, perhaps. Denial. A polite fiction in which feeding was an unpleasant medical necessity and nothing more.
He settled for the truth. “It didn’t exactly feel terrible from my side.”
Arvid’s head came up. The horror on his face was so immediate that Liam almost laughed.
“That isn’t what I meant,” Liam said quickly. He raised both hands before Arvid could retreat further. “I’m not expecting anything from you. I’m saying you don’t have to sit there looking as if enjoying the thing keeping you alive is a moral failure.”
“You were dizzy.”
“I’m recovering.” A pause, “And currently that's your only stance. I say, in my humble opinion, that one small inconceivable negative is outweighed by you scoring points this weekend. Which now that I think about it – points you should publicly credit to me.”
Arvid fought back a smile. Well, that was Liam's interpretation of his grimaced lips. Lips he could now still feel on his shoulder. A claim, bloody and desperate, on his body. Liam prevented his thoughts from continuing. He knew where they'd eventually lead.
“You’re still sitting on a treatment table.”
“And I'm only getting more and more comfortable.”
“Comfortable? You complained about the paper sticking to your back during your last physio session.”
Liam tilted his head. “How do you know that?”
Arvid blinked, apparently realising what he had admitted. “The walls are thin,” he said.
“You remember me complaining through a wall?”
“You complain loudly.” The corner of Arvid’s mouth moved. It was not quite a smile, but it altered his stature anyway. By the time the doctor arrived, summoned despite Liam’s objections, Arvid had found him two bottles of water, an electrolyte drink and three biscuits from hospitality.
He hovered while Liam ate them, pretending to read a message on his phone and looking up after every bite.
“Stop watching me chew,” Liam said around the second biscuit.
“I’m not.” Arvid dropped his attention to his phone so quickly that he confirmed the accusation.
“You are.”
“I’m making sure you eat it.”
“I’m not going to hide it beneath the table.”
“You might.”
Liam held up the half-eaten biscuit. “Where would I even put it?”
Arvid gestured towards the room with one hand. “You’d find somewhere.”
The doctor confirmed that Liam’s blood pressure was slightly low but recovering. He would be required to complete another assessment in the morning before being cleared to drive. Arvid stood beside the sink and absorbed this news in silence, his expression growing tighter with every instruction.
Once the doctor had gone, he retrieved his tablet from the counter.
“I’ll tell Marc you were helping me,” he said.
He kept his eyes on the screen, although it remained dark.
“You don’t need to tell Marc anything.”
Arvid’s thumb pressed against the tablet’s power button. “If you aren’t cleared—”
“I will be.”
“If you aren’t, he should know it wasn’t your fault.”
Liam slid off the table. Arvid’s head rose immediately, and one hand lifted as if to steady him before stopping halfway between them.
“It was my choice,” Liam said.
“That won’t matter if you miss qualifying.”
“It matters to me.”
“Thank you,” he said. Arvid’s fingers curled around the tablet. They were ordinary words, but he spoke them with a care that made Liam feel as though he had been entrusted with something delicate.
“You’re welcome.”
Arvid glanced at the locked door. His guarded expression returned piece by piece. “We should probably leave separately.”
“Probably.”