[ Dokja goes back down without a fuss, gingerly placing his still aching head against the pillow and sighing once he's lying down. Like this, he can feel his body and mind respond to the lull of sleep, eyelids growing heavy with each passing second. He's not accustomed to being able to doze off easily, his racing thoughts and the lurking nightmares chasing away any rest, but it seems as though he's long passed the point of exhaustion and his body is in desperate need of replenishing the sleep reservoir.
But before he can slip away into a much needed unconsciousness, Dokja settles a tentative hand against Abel's wrist. ]
... Thank you.
[ For this, for before. He practically has to choke out the words, voice shaking with the effort. He's never known how to respond to someone caring about him, always just filed it away as a debt to be repaid, but.
This time, it feels too impossible for Dokja to return this favor. ]
[ like tucking a sickly child into bed, Abel's drawing the blankets up around Dokja once the other man has settled comfortably among the pillows - or, as comfortably as one can get when they must feel like one walking bruise. sleep really is the best thing for him, and hopefully having some tiny comfort in the fact he isn't alone will be enough to see him off to rest a bit more peacefully.
Abel hesitates where he had been about to straighten when that hand touches his wrist-- and that soft gratitude, hoarse but so terribly earnest, has a tiny smile tugging at his lips. ]
Please rest well, Mr. Dokja.
[ there is no need for thanks, but he will accept it because... just this once, he thinks Dokja needs him to.
wouldn't be terribly surprising if his ward were asleep before Abel had time to collect two tea mugs and head to the door, hm... ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But before he can slip away into a much needed unconsciousness, Dokja settles a tentative hand against Abel's wrist. ]
... Thank you.
[ For this, for before. He practically has to choke out the words, voice shaking with the effort. He's never known how to respond to someone caring about him, always just filed it away as a debt to be repaid, but.
This time, it feels too impossible for Dokja to return this favor. ]
no subject
Abel hesitates where he had been about to straighten when that hand touches his wrist-- and that soft gratitude, hoarse but so terribly earnest, has a tiny smile tugging at his lips. ]
Please rest well, Mr. Dokja.
[ there is no need for thanks, but he will accept it because... just this once, he thinks Dokja needs him to.
wouldn't be terribly surprising if his ward were asleep before Abel had time to collect two tea mugs and head to the door, hm... ]