That's the important part. Not what Howard did, but what the world threw at them. Howard's long past the point of believing that doing everything right means that you won't get killed anyway. What's the saying, eat right, work out, die anyway? Some days it feels like that, only swap eating right for hiding in corners and working out for fighting for your life.
It wouldn't have mattered if he did good if someone had come anyway, but Howard nods slowly. He rubs a hand over his face, and then his sleeves over that same patch to get the damp of sweat away.
And he listens to that heartbeat, because R wants to hold him close and rub his shoulders and that means pressing his bony cheek against R's chest and hearing that slushy thump-thump that seems just a little off rhythm. That little resurrected heart is trying its damnedest.
He's almost embarrassed, and yet somehow R doesn't exactly exude judgment. Maybe it's because R doesn't really have a leg to stand on regarding compromising situations. Maybe it's because R's palms are warm and move over Howard's spine with a kind of intent that makes it feel like Howard's back isn't something most people would run a hand over and cringe at, feel awful for with all that malnourished boniness.
"Thanks, man." His own heartbeat's moved from jackhammering to a steady gallop. "I think- you didn't trip it when you left, just when you came back in, right?"
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That's the important part. Not what Howard did, but what the world threw at them. Howard's long past the point of believing that doing everything right means that you won't get killed anyway. What's the saying, eat right, work out, die anyway? Some days it feels like that, only swap eating right for hiding in corners and working out for fighting for your life.
It wouldn't have mattered if he did good if someone had come anyway, but Howard nods slowly. He rubs a hand over his face, and then his sleeves over that same patch to get the damp of sweat away.
And he listens to that heartbeat, because R wants to hold him close and rub his shoulders and that means pressing his bony cheek against R's chest and hearing that slushy thump-thump that seems just a little off rhythm. That little resurrected heart is trying its damnedest.
He's almost embarrassed, and yet somehow R doesn't exactly exude judgment. Maybe it's because R doesn't really have a leg to stand on regarding compromising situations. Maybe it's because R's palms are warm and move over Howard's spine with a kind of intent that makes it feel like Howard's back isn't something most people would run a hand over and cringe at, feel awful for with all that malnourished boniness.
"Thanks, man." His own heartbeat's moved from jackhammering to a steady gallop. "I think- you didn't trip it when you left, just when you came back in, right?"