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The amorphous world of strange colors and dreams crumbled and disintegrated under the rays of dawn that fell across Tighnari's eyelids. Awareness came quickly after, too quickly, too snappy for it to be natural; his brain kicked into high gear in an instant that gave him a sort of drunken whiplash.
Hardly daring to breathe, he waited. Perhaps, if he didn't stir, he thought delusionally, he wouldn't awaken it yet and could drift back to sleep. He briefly squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, the sandpapery feeling of his tired eyelids causing tears to well at the corners.
Please. I'm so tired.
But, heedless to his plea, cold sweat was beading on his forehead and a spiky knot pulling tight behind his sternum. With a disappointed sigh, he resigned himself to the bitter truth that he wouldn't be getting a break today.
Drawing a shaking inhale of pure dread through his nostrils, he moved the sheets down off of himself and pushed up on one elbow with bone-aching slowness. But, no matter how cautiously he moved, it was still enough to make it feel like the floor underneath his bed was undulating, like the sickening dip of a boat on turbulent waves.
His head whirled. His throat squeezed, acid creeping upward.
He reached down beside the bed to snatch the edge of the strategically-placed bowl with the tips of his fingers, bringing it to tuck under his chin. The sound of his own, moist panting reverberated dully around his head once, twice, then it began.
It always made him feel so cold, like he'd ventured too far towards Dragonspine Mountain in Mondstadt and the sheer cold was creeping down his trachea and tightening around his lungs like a leather strap, and yet somehow, that cold also burned along his every nerve and simmered him alive, soaking his shirt in sweat and sticking his hair to the back of his neck. How annoyingly contradictory.
Wave after wave of nausea rolled over him, bringing up nothing after the initial, back-hunching heave except for sour froth and air. His eyes throbbed and streamed, neck tendons straining. The burning pressure of exertion heated his face.
It was a long one. He hated the long ones. Just when he would catch his breath and think, finally, thank god, the smell of vomit would thread itself into the very meat of his sinuses and his body would gleefully throw the "empty your entire digestive system" switch once more, even though there was fuck all left to empty.
And Archons, did it ever hurt, too. At least until he could grab for the water pitcher that now permanently resided on the night table and hastily gulp some down between waves. Even if said water was only going to be in his stomach for five seconds before it came gushing back out, it still cut down on the throat pain. Diluted the bile, he blearily remembered reading once. A quick pour rather than a laborious squeeze around nothing.
After what felt like hours, his body deigned to showed him mercy, and the shivering, freezing aftermath took over. Spitting off-color saliva into the bowl and trying not to look too hard at the contents, he set it on the night table long enough to pull the tail of his shirt up to mop his wet face and neck with, then pressed it over his mouth to cough out what he'd managed to aspirate. For half a second, he tasted vomit again, and it nearly set off another round, but he was able to swallow it back.
Panting like he'd sprinted half a mile, he melted out of bed, barely remembering to take the bowl with him to the kitchen so he could empty and wash it.
(If he halfway lost his balance and nearly put a Tighnari-shaped hole in the wall of their hallway, that was no one's business but his own.)
As he scrubbed the bowl with strong soap, a brush, and great prejudice in the sink, his gently rounded belly brushed against the edge of the countertop in front of him. He couldn't help but steal glances down at it, his heart softening in spite of his lingering queasiness and the pinching, pulled muscles in his back and stomach.
"You two are wearing me out," he rasped under his breath, drying the bowl and his hands with a dish towel. His damaged, whistling voice bounced off the walls of the empty house, seeming almost too loud. He tucked the clean bowl under his arm and passed his hand up and down the curve of his stomach as he made for the bathroom to scrub the disgusting film of sickness off of his tongue.
At least, for the scant few minutes he had until his stomach tried to fold itself inside-out again.
In a filmy haze of two-ton limbs and warm morning light, he sat on the closed toilet seat and brushed his teeth. His eyes drifted over to the bathtub, then slipped shut without his permission.
He would tackle that later. Hot water would definitely soothe his back and hip pain, but it also made him throw up even more to get overheated. He'd learned that one the hard way. Lukewarm baths just weren't the same.
Maybe before bed, he would feel good enough to take a warm one. Or maybe he would forget again. The jury was still out.
By the time he'd brushed his teeth until his gums tasted like iron, retraced his steps to make sure he hadn't slung any drips of watery digestive fluid anywhere in his half-conscious trudge to the kitchen, and discarded his sweaty, stale clothing in the full hamper in favor of fresher ones, the sun was peeking over the hill, sending misty beams through the canopy of leaves to dot the ground. He watched the brushstrokes of light dance and sway outside the bedroom window, absently trailing his fingertips over his belly.
Cyno called them "god rays", he recalled with a pinching twist of fondness in his throat.
His heartbeat was suddenly too loud, too lonely in the silence. So, he found things to do.
It wasn't exactly difficult; The list of chores he'd been letting pile up was growing almost as fast as his bump these days. There was laundry to be washed, dishes to be put away, floors to be swept, potted plants to be tended...to say nothing of his duties as a Forest Watcher. There was a thick stack of paperwork on his desk that he'd been neglecting for nearly a week.
He needed to get a grip. Life wasn't going to grind to a halt out of consideration for him just because he felt a little sick.
The day crawled by. Perhaps he got some things done, perhaps he didn't. He knew for sure he watered the plants, at least, even though he had to lean over the railing of the deck to hurl so he wouldn't stain the wood. Thankfully, there were no witnesses. The laundry...er...maybe another time. He would probably just puke on them and have to start all over. He somehow kept a glass of water down long enough to get a few dishes done, then quickly ducked over the newly-empty sink to upchuck it minutes after.
By lunchtime, the faintly cold feeling in the back of his neck told him he needed to attempt some kind of nourishment, so he pulled out a frozen block of homemade fowl bone stock to thaw on the stove. At least if he couldn't eat solids, this would hurt less to throw up and might still give him some nutrition if he managed to hold it down for more than ten minutes.
His temples were pounding. Ugh.
Oh. The timer was going off. He grabbed the sparrow-shaped thing off the countertop and shut it off with a twist of his wrist. He almost didn't remember setting it, but if he thought hard enough, he did. Maybe.
An unsettling sense of déjà vu poked at his brain. For a second, his heart tripped on a panicked beat.
But, he waved it away like an annoying insect buzzing his ear. No. This wasn't the same type of dissociative brain fog he'd dealt with after the miscarriage, he thought with a frown as he ladled broth into a bowl. This wasn't nearly as bad.
He was just pregnant and tired and nauseated. That was all.
This was normal.
Sitting down at the table with his steaming bowl of fragrant broth, he picked up his spoon—
—and someone knocked on the door. He startled, dropped the spoon with a clink, and swore under his breath, rubbing his eyes when he realized whose comically loud stage whisper he was hearing.
"Maybe he's asleep. Pregnant mamas are always sleepy, right?"
"Could be, but...he's not the type to sleep in until lunchtime. I guess he could be taking a nap, but..." A pause.
"Paimon agrees. Something doesn't feel right..." Another pause. "His plants look a little sickly. Tighnari usually takes really good care of his plants...Paimon's never seen them droop like that."
"Yeah...that isn't like him at all." He heard Aether shift his weight and lower his voice. "I don't want to just barge in, but if something's happened and he can't get to the door..."
Paimon's tone grew fearful. "Oh, don't say that...here, Paimon will fly around and knock on the window—"
Summoning a speck of energy, Tighnari called out.
"I'm fine, Paimon, I'm coming." He coughed hard and touched his throat with a blink, then slowly pushed himself to his feet and approached the door.
"Oh! Okay!"
He pulled the door open (had it always been so heavy?) to reveal Aether standing on the doorstep with Paimon floating next to him. Aether's face went bloodless, and Paimon's eyes practically popped out of her head; she sucked a gasp in and covered her mouth with both hands.
Tighnari's chin pulled inward in startled surprise. "What? Are you two okay?"
"Are we—Tighnari, are you okay?" Paimon's voice was strained.
Sighing in annoyance at being asked a question in response to a question, Tighnari pulled the door further open and stepped aside. "At least come in and explain why you're both looking at me like I've acquired a second head."
Hastily, they obeyed. As Tighnari shut the door behind them, Paimon floated closer to him, seemingly inspecting his face and aiming a horrified glance at Aether, whose face had gone deceptively neutral, as it often did when something was very wrong. Tighnari craned his neck back and held up a hand, and Paimon retreated with a soft eep!, practically hiding behind Aether with her tiny hands perched on his shoulder.
"Okay, stop it, you two are freaking me out now."
"You, um." Aether gestured vaguely to his own face with two fingers. "Did you throw up recently?"
Tighnari's tail twitched. He pointed impatiently with his hand, palm open, to his baby bump. "Of course I did."
"Like...really hard?"
He crossed his arms. "...yes, if for some reason you need the gruesome details."
Aether pursed his lips and grabbed Paimon's narrow ankle to hold her back from floating closer again. "You just have some broken capillaries around your eyes," he said gently. "Little red dots, like freckles. And your left sclera has a pretty big red patch in it. I think you may have burst a blood vessel in there."
Tighnari's heart sank. He uncrossed his arms with a sigh, letting them hang limp. "...I...that doesn't surprise me."
Paimon gulped. "Paimon's really sorry she got in your face, Tighnari." Her voice trembled. "You j-just look a little scary, so she was really worried about you..."
Her contrite tone and the quiver of genuine care flooded Tighnari's eyes with tears and sent them dripping down his face before he could even think of stifling them. He pulled his shirt up to wipe his wet cheeks, swallowing a sob.
Paimon backed up frantically, her gaze darting between Aether and Tighnari with the air of someone who had just set off a land mine. "Was it something Paimon said?"
Tighnari bleated out a weak, watery excuse for a laugh, waving his hand. "I'm fine, Paimon. Just...baby hormones going crazy. You didn't do anything wrong."
Paimon played with her fingers, seeming lost. "Can Paimon give you a hug? You look like you could really use one."
"I might bawl my eyes out if you hug me right now, sweetie." Tighnari didn't even notice the slip-up; he called Collei that sometimes, and his parental instincts that were currently going utterly haywire saw Paimon as a child that needed comfort.
Her little lip poked out. "That's okay. Paimon cries a lot. She won't make fun."
"Me, either," Aether murmured.
Defeated, Tighnari opened his arms. Paimon snuggled into his embrace, and he silently wept against her sparkly white hair, shoulders heaving. She smelled like candy floss and starlight.
"I probably smell awful," he wobbled out. "I haven't had the energy to..."
"Hush." Paimon's feather-light hand patted his shoulder. "Paimon isn't judging."
He felt Aether's hand rest on his other shoulder. "Come on. To the couch. You're swaying on your feet."
Aether steered him across the room and sat him down, then sat next to him. With Paimon cuddled against his chest like a stuffed toy, Tighnari sniffled, resting his chin on her head. She didn't seem to mind.
"Morning sickness has been absolutely kicking my ass," he rasped. "Can't even keep water down. I've probably puked close to fifty times in the past four days." Aether made an alarmed noise. Paimon hugged him tighter. "I can't remember the last time I ate a meal and didn't throw up thirty minutes later at the most...usually it's closer to ten. I've felt sick for several weeks, but in these past few days, it just keeps getting worse and worse, and nothing I do helps. I can't take most medications right now because of the kits, but I've been too beat to leave the house and ask Shirin for advice."
"Where's Collei? Doesn't she usually visit you a lot?" Paimon asked.
"She's been staying in the city for a few days with Layla and Nilou and...maybe Madam Faruzan. Some sleepover...girls' weekend they had planned...I don't remember." Tighnari rubbed his eyes. He was beginning to see squiggles of light that persisted even after a hard blink. "I'm so glad she's not seeing me like this. She would make herself absolutely sick with worry."
"...and Cyno?" Aether prodded.
Tighnari's heart cramped. Oh, how he longed for his husband. But, he shrugged. "Cyno has work. He comes home when he can, but..."
Paimon made an unhappy noise. "That isn't fair."
"It's called having a mortgage, kiddo," he told her wryly, wiping his face. "We can't all gallivant around the world and live in a magical teapot, you know." He sniffled deeply and sighed, feeling suddenly even emptier than he already was, like a scrap of fabric left in the rain. "Cyno should be back home in three weeks or so. He's on assignment in the desert right now."
Ugh. Just the thought of baking in the cruel desert heat made Tighnari's stomach uneasy enough that he had to swallow excess saliva.
Aether had been listening quietly with his arms crossed and a troubled pinch between his golden brows, studying Tighnari with those too-wise eyes. "Your face is looking a little thin. I think you need to see a doctor."
Tighnari shook his head. "My midwife is all the way in the city, and she's the head obstetrician at the Bimarstan. She's too busy to come tend to me just because I'm having some nausea."
Aether scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and sighed. "Somehow, I knew you'd say that."
"Isn't it bad for the babies if you don't eat properly?" Paimon fretted. "They eat what you eat, right? In a way?"
Tighnari frowned. "People have been putting up with pregnancy nausea since the dawn of time, you two. I think you're being alarmists."
"And I think you're dehydrated and not thinking clearly," Aether said pointedly. Tighnari startled. "If you're throwing up so hard that you're popping blood vessels in your eye and you can't even drink water and you're visibly losing weight, you need a doctor."
A gust of irritation left Tighnari's lungs. He started to protest further, but slowly, he realized that Aether was making some sense. Like a knife thrown with great precision, that last sentence had stabbed far enough through the fog that covered his brain that he suddenly felt a bit foolish.
"...Fine," he conceded. "I'll send a Dusk Bird message to Rawiyah, but she can't always just step away from her duties to make a house call. It could be hours or even tomorrow before she's able to come check on me."
Tension that Tighnari hadn't noticed until now left Aether's youthful face. "...at least someone will know."
Tighnari grunted. "What did you two need, anyway?"
Aether stood up, suddenly seeming in a hurry to leave. "Nothing important. Come on, Paimon." Paimon hugged Tighnari hard once more, then floated out of his arms. Aether gave Tighnari another hard, wary look. "Keep trying to drink water, okay?"
Tighnari rolled his eyes. "Yes, doctor."
With an unhappy frown and a reproachful purse of his lips, Aether practically dragged Paimon out the door, leaving a trail of sparkly constellations that quickly faded.
Tighnari sighed, too tired to even ruminate on his strange friends' unexpected visit. Bone broth...back to the bone broth.
Twelve minutes later, he was doubled over at the kitchen sink with tears smarting his eyes, clutching his aching stomach.
❀
Somehow, between a lazy attempt at watering his outside plants that had him quickly retreating back inside out of the heat, drinking five glasses of water, and throwing up at least six more times, Tighnari actually did manage to remember to send Rawiyah a messily-scribbled letter detailing his symptoms. Dusk Birds flew pretty fast, but he probably wouldn't receive a reply right away if Rawiyah was otherwise occupied with a patient.
Until then, all he could do was wait and ride it out.
Gods, this was humiliating. He'd known pregnancy could be gnarly, but never in his life had he vomited so hard that he lost control of his bladder. It had been the straw that broke the camel's back; as soon as he felt of his shorts and realized what had happened, he flushed the toilet, curled up on the bathroom floor, and cried himself red-faced and breathless. Which, of course, just made him dry-heave again.
"You'll be worth it," he said faintly to the tiny kits within him, his cheek pressed on cold, hard tile. He held his bump like it was the only thing tethering him down to Teyvat. "You will be. You have to be..."
Late that afternoon, as he was trudging down the hall from the living room to the bedroom to look for the hair tie he'd somehow managed to misplace, the front door suddenly opened behind him.
His heart skipped a beat. Hadn't he locked it behind Aether and Paimon?
He turned around to see Collei and Cyno standing just inside the doorway, wearing matching dark, worried expressions. Rawiyah stood outside the door behind them, smiling with the mild, unbothered calm of a medical professional.
Tighnari's shoulders dropped with his rasping sigh. "Oh, boy."
Rawiyah stepped forward, sliding her medical bag off of her shoulder and setting it on the couch. "Hello, Tighnari. You don't look well at all."
"Hi, Rawiyah," he said, exasperated. "I've been informed. How did you all even get here so quickly?"
"Aether teleported us," Collei said flatly.
Oh...yeah. That was a thing he could do. Somehow. Aether was nowhere to be seen, so obviously, he hadn't stuck around to face Tighnari's indignation. Little shit.
(He cares, Tighnari's rational brain cried. He cares for everyone so much, too much, he gives so much of himself away.)
"Come and sit on the couch. I'll examine you," Rawiyah instructed.
Feeling chastised and sullen, Tighnari obeyed. As he sat down, he caught sight of something that made him quietly scoff under his breath; the hair tie had been on his wrist the entire time.
For fuck's sake.
Cyno said nothing, but his jaw was firmly set. Collei wrung her hands, chewing her lip.
They both hovered as Rawiyah took Tighnari's vitals and listened for the twins' tiny heartbeats with her stethoscope (which were, thankfully, within the normal range), asking how often he had vomited, when was the last time he'd managed to eat something, etcetera. She sent him off to the bathroom to pee in a cup(and yikes, it was a little dark, now that he really looked), then wrapped a tourniquet around his arm and took a few vials of blood from him for testing.
Midway through, Tighnari's stomach rolled and burbled ominously. He curled his free arm around his waist, gulping.
"Collei, grab that bowl from the dish drainer," he managed to say around the wringing pressure in his throat. "Hurry."
Cyno tensed in the corner of Tighnari's vision, Rawiyah quickly plucked the blood vial from the end of the tube to let the vacuum seal activate, and Collei flew into action. There was a slip and a clatter, then the bowl was shoved into Tighnari's lap with a few seconds to spare before the watery broth in his stomach that he'd drank about twenty minutes ago came pouring back out of him.
Oh, he wanted to sink through the floor and die. Throwing up in front of people was at the top of his "Absolutely Despise" list, right up there with being cooed over and petted like an animal without permission and imbeciles who recklessly ate any wild mushroom they stumbled across in the forest without knowing if they were poisonous or not.
Cyno finally stepped forward, then, resting a hesitant hand on his back. Archons, it made him feel even smaller and sicker, but at the same time, he craved that touch like oxygen.
As he retched roughly and his stomach wrung out the last bit of liquid left in it, he heard Rawiyah's deep, comforting voice. "I know, it's awful. It will pass soon, and you'll be able to breathe normally again. Just hold on for a little longer."
She was an angel, Tighnari was convinced.
After a miserable and mortifying couple of minutes, Collei brought him a glass of fresh water to rinse with and a wet cloth and whisked the vomit bowl away. He could feel Cyno's eyes on him as he mopped his face and neck, feeling as pulled-thin as a rubber band in danger of snapping.
"Goodness," Rawiyah murmured, shining her light into Tighnari's open mouth once he was finished. "You've been through the wringer; your throat is extremely red and irritated."
"Yeah. Hurts," he rasped.
Rawiyah's eyes were soft and sympathetic. "I can't exactly give you an anti-inflammatory while you're pregnant, but I do have some echinacea-infused honey I'll leave with you, to be taken twice a day. Just a spoonful. It should soothe your throat pain a bit." She produced a jar of golden honey and two small bottles of pills from her bag. "This, right here, is the good stuff. It's just a simple antihistamine combined with vitamin B6, but it works wonders for most cases of morning sickness. Tried and true."
"How safe is it for developing babies?" Cyno spoke for the first time since he'd entered the house, arms crossed, a stoic sentry.
As usual, Rawiyah wasn't bothered by his gruff candor. "Perfectly safe, I promise. High success rate and no known links to birth defects or miscarriage."
Cyno relaxed minutely. Tighnari looked up at his eyes for the first time, but Cyno averted his gaze.
Oh, he was in the doghouse.
He was distracted from the cracking of his heart by Rawiyah's thumbs gently rubbing around his eyes. "These are just from strain. They'll fade in a couple of weeks."
"The one in his eye, too?" Collei piped up.
"I'm right here," Tighnari grumbled.
"Yes. I know it looks quite alarming, but it's just a burst blood vessel. I see this a lot with severe morning sickness." Rawiyah began packing her bag, sealing the blood and urine samples in a little biohazard bag. "If that medicine I gave you doesn't help, contact me. This is just step one, so if you're still struggling to eat in a day or so, I can send some prescription-strength medication by Dusk Bird." Then, she rested her hand on Tighnari's shoulder. She was no longer smiling, and her golden eyes drilled into his soul. "Do not let yourself get this dehydrated again. Dehydration can cause some awful complications during pregnancy. Please, reach out to me sooner next time. There's no need for you to suffer if I can help you. It's what I'm here for."
Tighnari's throat felt tight with shame. "I will."
With that, Rawiyah left them with instructions for Tighnari to take his medicine and try to eat again in about thirty minutes.
You could've cut the silent tension in the room with a knife.
Tighnari felt like he was on trial, seated meekly on the couch with the other two standing over him ready to judge his misdeeds.
Collei was the first to speak. "Um...Master—"
"When will you learn to set aside your massive sense of pride and ask for help?" Cyno deadpanned, as blunt as a cinderblock to the head. "What will it take, Tighnari?"
Tighnari bristled. His fingertips went numb, rage pumping through every vein.
Collei all but flinched, stepping between them with a high giggle and her hands raised plaintively, like she was afraid they were about to start mauling each other with their bare hands.
"Uh, wh-what Cyno means to say is, we were really worried about you, Master. Aether and Paimon found us and told us you weren't doing very well, so we came home to check on you."
"Cyno said exactly what he meant the first time," Cyno corrected evenly.
Tighnari's arms felt heavy. He wanted so badly to protest, to defend himself, to argue, to get mean. To insist that they were infantilizing him or being overdramatic. To yell at Cyno for implying he didn't care enough.
But the more he thought about it, the more he realized with a growing dread that Cyno was knocking on the door of reason.
Maybe he didn't care about these kits if he'd let himself get this dehydrated and put their lives in danger out of sheer stubbornness. Hadn't he prayed for these kits fervently? Weren't they a gift from Kusanali's hand? And yet, Tighnari couldn't even ensure their safety by simply asking for help when he needed it.
His eyes welled up.
These kits couldn't defend themselves. They were entirely reliant on him for nutrition, and he'd been depriving them of it for days because he was allergic to being viewed as weak and vulnerable.
He was a terrible mother already, he realized with a quickening heartbeat and a rock in his throat.
"I didn't think it was that bad," he whispered tearfully. He reached up to scrub his oily face, feeling empty and hungry and nauseous and horribly, breakably emotional. "I just..."
Cyno's expression didn't exactly soften, but he did visibly twist the cap down on his anger. He stepped forward and sat down next to Tighnari, folding him in a loose embrace. All the fight in him gone, Tighnari buried his face in Cyno's cloak, unable to do anything but cling to him. Collei's hand touched his back, rubbing softly like he always had for her when she was upset, and it soundly broke him in half.
"I'm so sorry." The apology tumbled out in a deluge of tears.
"You're okay. We're here now," Collei whispered. "We just worry because we love you. All three of you."
"I know," Tighnari sobbed. "I love you, too. I don't know what I was...I was just so..."
Aether had probably been right. Dehydration could definitely cloud one's judgment, and Tighnari hadn't been thinking clearly at all if he'd so nonchalantly put himself and the kits in danger. Normally, he was cautious to a fault about his health, but it hadn't at all registered to him how serious his situation had become until Aether and Paimon had shown up and he'd seen the looks on their faces.
And good lord, he did look ghoulish; he'd practically jumpscared himself in the bathroom mirror after washing his hands earlier. The uneven, pinprick spatters of red around his eyes and the bright crimson stain in his sclera would've scared just about anyone right out of their underwear. He didn't blame Aether and Paimon for being frightened for him.
"I've taken you away from work," he moaned, smushing his face into Cyno's neck. He smelled like musky sweat and parched sands. "And Collei—"
"Shh," Cyno murmured against his temple, combing his fingers through his hair and rocking him slightly. Tighnari limpened in his arms, too exhausted to do anything but obey. "Just...stop. Don't worry about that. My matra are more than capable of finishing the assignment without me."
"And I can hang out with the girls any time," Collei said in mild reproach. "They understood. Er, actually, Madam Faruzan was...she told me to tell you, 'if you don't buck up and start accepting help when you need it, I'm going to come to Gandharva Ville and box those ears of yours, young man, and I'll have two awfully easy targets.'" She coughed. "...her words, not mine."
"She's right." Tighnari sniffled wetly and covered his belly with his hand; the muscles around his ribs were tender to the touch. "I've put the kits in danger with my carelessness, and I need to shape up. It...wasn't intentional." His eyes burned. "I would never..."
Cyno's forehead lost a few more creases. He cupped Tighnari's belly in his hand, gentle and protective. Tighnari hesitantly covered his hand with his own. Cyno let him. "Of course you wouldn't. It was just a mistake. I'm...sorry for implying otherwise."
Tighnari's heart squeezed. "You're forgiven if I am." He picked up one of the pill bottles that sat on the coffee table, reading the dosage instructions on the label. "I'll go ahead and take some of this...please, Kusanali, let it actually do something." He muttered the last part, reaching for his water and popping two pills in his mouth.
"I'll prepare some plain rice for you to try to eat once it's been long enough after you take your medicine." Collei started toward the kitchen.
Tighnari wiped water from his mouth on his shoulder. "Cook it down with some of that stock on the stove, would you? It'll add nutrients without making it heavy."
"Will do, Master."
Dear Sevens, just the thought of food made him want to gag until he choked, but he needed to try. The kits needed it.
As Collei tinkered in the kitchen, Cyno slid off the couch and folded himself to his knees in front of Tighnari, taking his hands and looking up at him, inspecting him. Something behind his eyes made Tighnari tear up again, a frail supplication that he almost never saw.
"You scared me," Cyno confessed in a hushed, pained whisper. "When I saw Aether and Paimon running toward me, I..."
Another tear dripped down Tighnari's cheek to land on his stomach. "I know. I'm so sorry, dear."
Cyno's eyes roved over his face, then they softened and he sighed. Tighnari could tell he was still pretty angry, but it seemed like he was holding off on the lecture for now. That was the thing about Cyno; he was scarily good at controlling his emotions, sometimes to a fault. It had been so beaten into him (literally, in some cases) to keep a tight leash on his mood so as not to let Hermanubis' soul influence him. Tighnari had never seen Cyno truly lose his temper in all the time they'd known each other.
(The only time he'd ever seen him come close was one night years ago. The night that Tighnari had told him, in a haunted whisper thickened by suppressed tears, what unthinkable horrors had been inflicted upon their newly-acquired charge at the hands of Il Dottore and his men.
Cyno's fist had nearly put a hole in their bedroom wall.)
"Promise me that you'll tell me next time you need me. Please, Nari." Cyno faltered. "I can't bear the thought of you suffering here alone while I'm at work, none the wiser."
Tighnari gently removed his hands from Cyno's so he could cup his husband's handsome face in his palms. Cyno leaned into his touch, cheek squishing up. "I'll try my hardest. You know how much it pisses me off to ask for help."
Cyno stroked his belly with the back of his knuckles. His eyes were fiery-red in the evening light, one of the most beautiful colors in Tighnari's whole world. "Do it for them, then."
Tighnari sighed. Nodded. "I promise."
"Good," Cyno whispered. He reached up to trace the pad of his middle finger underneath Tighnari's left eye. "Did this hurt?"
Tighnari's eyes fluttered shut, lashes brushing Cyno's fingertip. Now that he wasn't alone with no help, it was like his body was taking that as permission to turn the exhaustion up to eleven. He could fall asleep sitting up right now. "No. I didn't even feel it when it happened...it could've been there for days, as far as I know." He scoffed, weary and rueful. "Aether and Paimon looked at me like I was a ghost when I opened the door."
Clothing rustled, then two strong hands held Tighnari's head still as a feather-light kiss touched his left eyelid.
"Thank you." Cyno's voice was low, laden with emotion.
Tighnari's eyes drifted open. Cyno's expression was complicated. "For...?"
"Going through all this." Cyno tangled his fingers with Tighnari's. "For me. For them."
Despite it all, Cyno's sweet sincerity brought a faint smile to Tighnari's lips. He squeezed Cyno's hand, scooting forward to fold his arms around his lean waist and melt against him. The weight of Cyno's arms encircling his shoulders was a great comfort. The safest place in the world.
"I'll do better," Tighnari vowed softly, squishing his cheek on firm planes of muscle, skating his thumb over the small of Cyno's back through the cloak. "For them and for you."
Cyno's fingers fondled and massaged one of Tighnari's ears at the base, and he practically liquefied at the sweet attention, but he could still feel an undercurrent of worried frustration in the lack of verbal response. Cyno was genuinely upset. He probably would be for a few hours. That was fine; a bit of frost was a warranted reaction, in this case. But Tighnari knew better than to agonize over silence when it came to Cyno.
The silence said, I'm angry with you.
The tender touch added, but I still love you.
And so, as the kitchen and living room slowly filled with the nutty-sweet, woody aroma of cooking rice and Cyno's fingertips wrote endless devotion against the fur of Tighnari's ear, he closed his eyes and took deep breath after deep breath, gently forcing himself to relax and regroup.
For the first time in several days, there was a light at the end of the tunnel. His daughter and husband were here to take care of him and nurse him back to health, his unborn little ones were safe and strong, and he was armed with medicine to combat his sickness. He would feel normal again one day. Maybe not today, but one day soon.
He slipped one hand under his shirt, holding the gentle heft of life in his belly.
This time, it wasn't a desperate plea, but an assurance of thanksgiving and hope.
You'll be worth it all. Every single bit.