| It took a couple
of minutes for him to wake
up. Face down on the kitchen table, he was getting
more like
Bernard every day. It was still dark. Something had woken him up and it wasn't the sharp spike of pain in his neck. There was a sound, soft and keening, coming from the shop. He didn't move, sitting, listening, trying to work out what the hell was making the noise and whether it was safe to show he was awake. The sound changed, accompanied by the creak of old leather. The sofa. Someone was on the sofa. Manny was up and across the kitchen in a heartbeat, peering into the dim light of the bookshop. "Bernard! What's wrong? What is it?" Bernard was backed into one corner of the battered sofa, knees pulled up, eyes wide and staring into the far, darkened corner of the shop. Approaching cautiously, double-checking there wasn't actually anything threatening in amongst the books, Manny crouched down next to the over-stuffed cushions and reached out to touch Bernard's hand. It was pulled away quickly, but not before he'd felt the chill of the pale skin. "What is it? What can you see?" Wild eyes nailed him. "Teeth!" Bernard hissed. "It's got teeth. It's going to get me and it's going to eat me." Okaaaay. Manny glanced around, searching the floor and any near-by surfaces, looking for the tell-tale empty bottle of Absinthe. "What have you been drinking?" "Drinking? Look at it! It doesn't want a drink!" Bernard jerked suddenly, trying to crawl out through the back of the sofa. "It wants me!" he yelled, voice laced with high-pitched hysteria. Manny slowly sat up on the sofa, edging as close to the other man as he dared. "I won't let it get you," he declared hesitantly, still not completely sure this wasn't some weird joke. But Bernard's expression wasn't of amusement or malice. It was of fear, pure heart-stopping terror. "Don't let it. Please. It'll tear me apart with its teeth." Bernard seemed so convinced that Manny looked as hard as he could, eyes adjusting to the semi-darkness, the only light coming in from the sodium yellow lamps outside through the filthy windows at the front of the shop. But there was nothing there. Certainly not some sharp-toothed monster hungry for human blood. "You're seeing things," he reassured gently. "Have you been on the Absinthe? You know what it's like, it's dangerous stuff. There's nothing there." "What do you mean there's nothing there? Can't you see it? Ahh!" Bernard scrabbled on the wide leather cushion, trying to make himself as small as possible so that maybe he could squeeze into the corner of the sofa. He got his socked feet up under him but lost his balance and they slid down between the cushion and the arm of the sofa. At the same time he made a grab for Manny's lapels. "Help me!" Frankly moved by this rare display of humanity, Manny gently pried Bernard's hands from his shirt, holding them tightly to his chest. "It's okay." Bernard's head snapped around at some unheard noise and he froze again, listening, staring into the same dark corner. "Oh, God.... Where's it gone?" "I told you, there's nothing there." But he wouldn't be told. Scrambling closer to Manny, Bernard leaned into him, head moving in tiny, jerky stages as he searched the shadows for his unseen foe. The panic was rising in him. Manny could feel his pulse racing under his fingers, his heart pounding his alcohol-poisoned blood through his veins. "It could be anywhere! It's fast, too fast! It could have its teeth in my before I even see it!" "Bernard! Calm down!" Eyes with pupils too wide regarded him in sheer disbelief. "Calm down?! How can I calm down when any moment now I'm going to feel those razor-blades sinking into my flesh?" "It's not real! It's in your mind!" "It's not in my mind, it's in my bookshop!" The hysteria was starting to build. Soon he'd do something incredibly stupid, something they'd both end up regretting if Manny wasn't careful. Slowly he eased one arm around Bernard's shoulders, still holding on to one cold hand. He settled the trembling man close against him, unsure of how far he could go before he was punched, even if he was the last line of defence. Physical contact wasn't something Bernard allowed. "If it wants you," he determined, "it'll have to get passed me first." To his surprise, Bernard tucked himself into the awkward embrace and looked up at him gratefully. Manny smiled back confidently. He could play protector as well as anyone, as long as the only threat was a wormwood-induced hallucination. And there they stayed. Periodically, Bernard's head snapped up and he listened to something only he could hear. But he soon settled again, taking less and less time to do so as it got later. Eventually Manny felt the last remnants of tension drain from the tight shoulders and Bernard fell into a light sleep, head against the hollow of Manny's shoulder. It was a slumber he was woken from once or twice, presumably by the demons still wondering around inside his head. But finally the sleep deepened, his breathing evened out and he rested calmly in Manny's arms. Manny himself was exhausted. He hadn't the faintest clue what time it was but there was very little traffic on the road outside and no one walking the streets. He guessed at somewhere between three and four. He was going to wake up with no blood in some parts of his body and cricks in other parts, but he was pleased to discover he didn't care. He saw this side of Bernard so very rarely, it was worth the discomfort to spend some time with it. He fought to keep his eyes open but he was so tired and he couldn't stay wake. In the end he let his head come to rest on top of Bernard's and allowed himself to sleep. His reward for this heroism, naturally, was Bernard throwing up over him in the dawning hours of the morning. He was barely awake enough to register one warmth leave him moments before another soaked through his trousers. He dragged himself and Bernard into the downstairs toilet, dropped Bernard to the floor in front of the lavatory as gently as possible and went upstairs to change his clothes. When he came down again, Bernard was lying on the cold, tiled floor. He was moaning something about being in pain but at least he hadn't been sick again. "Bed." Manny instructed firmly. Manoeuvring his employer up the stairs was something he was more than used to doing. It was a part of the job as far as he was concerned. But this morning, Bernard refused to go. "Sofa!" he kept insisting, and in the end it was just easier to go with it. "You too!" Manny was in no mood. He was tired and his stomach was turning over at the lingering memory of the acrid stink of vomit. "Bernard, there are no monsters. You're safe on your own." "What monsters? You. Down here." He was tugging on Manny's hand, obviously still drunk out of his skull. With a defeated sigh, Manny gave in. "Okay, okay. Scoot over." He somehow snuggled in between Bernard - lying on his side on the edge of the cushions - and the back of the sofa. At least this way he wasn't in the direct line of fire any longer. He wrapped one arm over Bernard in as plutonic a fashion he could manage under the conditions and closing his eyes he went back to sleep quickly. He woke up and knew that it was morning. He could feel the daylight beyond his tightly-closed eyelids, too bright for him and he hadn't been drinking like a bohemian fish the night before. He could only imagine what it would feel like to Bernard when he eventually regained consciousness. He guessed that they were still on the sofa in much the same position they'd gone to sleep in a couple of hours earlier. He was wrong. Bernard was pressed along the length of his body, wonderfully warm and oddly comfortable. But the fact that Manny could feel soft breath against his collarbone was strange. He gingerly opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the top of Bernard's head, tucked under his chin. He'd turned over at some point and was wrapped around Manny the way he was more used to women wrapping around him, although that was nowhere near being a regular occurrence. Not that it wasn't ... nice. Bernard seemed to fit in all the right places, which was a surprise. Obviously he had no idea that who it was that he'd clamped himself around, or else he would have relocated himself very quickly, probably back into the bathroom. But it didn't stop Manny from closing his eyes again for a couple of minutes dozing and enjoying the sensation of holding another human being in his arms. "That is so sweet!" Manny's eyes opened and he starred blurred daggers at Fran. She'd rolled a chair over to the sofa and was watching them with naked glee. He'd never live this down, he knew. And if Bernard woke up he'd likely accuse him of sexual assault and fire him on the spot. Still, he decided, it was worth the risk. Bernard really did feel perfect, pliant and warm, sleeping soundly. "Go away," he murmured softly to Fran, knowing she wouldn't. "But you both look so sweet!" "He was seeing monsters in the middle of the night." She frowned and nodded. "That'll be the Absinthe. Almost everything I own is in my wardrobe now. I locked it all away last night because I thought my clothes were trying to kill me." Manny rolled his eyes. One day they'd learn. "Yes, well. When he wakes up it'll be bad enough as it is without you sitting there swooning at us. When he finds himself plastered to me like a limpet he's going to turn into one of those monsters he was seeing last night." She made a face but rose anyway. "All right, I'll go. Call me when he's walking and talking." Manny smiled gratefully. "Thank you." She didn't mention the disposable camera in her handbag and unfortunately he didn't question her unusual tact. Bernard woke a couple of minutes after she'd left. Lifting his head he took stock of the situation, mumbled an apology at Manny, untangled himself and dropped to the floor on his ass. Picking himself up slowly, he held him head steady with one hand while he felt his way into the kitchen and upstairs with his other. It was over an hour before he re-emerged. "I'm sorry... about last night." Manny shook his head, dismissing it. "No bother." "I remember the monster." "It's okay. I know first hand the effects of Absinthe." "I remember throwing up on you." Manny shrugged. "Not the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last." "I remember sleeping on you." He blushed and muttered, "That's... okay too," while he immersed himself in sorting the books back into categories after Bernard's latest outburst the previous morning, claiming that he hated the way the books were stacked. He fully expected that to be the end of it, but the next time he turned around, a couple of minutes later, Bernard was still standing a couple of feet behind him. "It was nice." Manny stared at him, taking a second to link the statement with the last conversation. But he at least had the awareness to nod. "Maybe we could do it again. Sometime. When I'm not out of my head on Absinthe, which, by the way, I've sworn never to touch ever again." Manny was still nodding. "Maybe we could." "Okay." He stood, staring at Bernard as he made himself comfortable behind his desk. He hoped the day didn't continue to take him by surprise. |