The ten-year-old couldn't fall back asleep. He'd tried, tried to ignore it - it only grew worse. He pressed fingers against his eyelid, biting back a sound as the stabbing pain continued. The old warehouse creaked in the night, wind howling against its walls. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Anatoly sighed tiredly, curled up on one of the couches. A rat squeaked and ran across the floor, the house creaked again. He doubted his brother was sleeping anyway.
What if he was? He didn't want to wake him up for nothing.
His eye itched, and he pulled his hand away, blinking to try to get it - whatever it was - out. It failed. He growled in frustrated annoyance and covered his eyes with his hands. Whatever it was, was definitely bigger than an eyelash, he mused in irritation, pressing his palm against it.
Vladimir shifted, rotating on the old leather couch across from Anatoly. He could hear his younger sibling shifting, turning. "Can't sleep?"
"My eye," the sighed reply came.
"Hm?" Nineteen-year-old Vlad swung his legs off the couch and reached for the lamp on the desk. He stretched a bit farther, then found the switch. He flicked it on, and watched while its dim light flickered for several seconds before steadying.
"My eye hurts," he repeated through clenched teeth, sitting up on the couch. He kept a hand pressed against the eyelid even as he turned his head towards Vladimir.
Vlad blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the light. He stood and crossed the room then sat beside Anatoly. Without waiting for permission, he pulled Anatoly's hand away from it and pried his eyelid open. He stared for a moment. Bloodshot... but there was nothing. He could still have Anatoly try warm water. Vladimir hummed to himself, then started talking, "Don't rub it, okay? You probably scratched it... There's nothing there."
Anatoly dropped his hand and squinted, mumbling something unintelligible as he watched his sibling through one eye.
"Don't talk back," Vlad stated, not entirely sure what his sibling had said. He smirked and then stood. "C'mon, wash it, then don't touch it." He waited for a moment, staring at Anatoly as he waited for him to obey.
Anatoly pulled a face and slowly stood up off the couch, "We don't have running water?"
"We have water." Granted, it was their drinking water, but it was clean. Not ideal, but better than nothing. Vladimir walked through the dimly lit building, heading across it to the small storage closet. He glanced back to make sure Anatoly was stil following.
Anatoly trailed behind him. "How long are we going to stay here?"
"A while. Just until I can afford something else," Vlad stated. Reaching the supply closet, he stopped and knelt down. He retrieved a full water bottle and looked up at Anatoly. "Sit."
Anatoly sat down less-than-gracefully, cross-legged on the floor. "Did I wake you up?" he asked quietly, as though someone would over-hear them.
"Yeah, but I'll kill you for it later." He tipped his brother's head back and then held his eye open with one hand. "Try not to blink." He slowly-carefully-poure d a small amount of water into Anatoly's eye then stopped. "Now blink." Anatoly blinked diligently, hissing as the dull pain turned to and itch. He stopped, hardly daring to move as the scratching lessened.
"Mkay, now don't rub it... because you'll want to-a lot. But remember, don't." Vladimir smirked, then shook his head and spoke again. "It'll be fine in a few days."
"Thank you, Vladimir," Anatoly said with a soft sigh - he couldn't count to amount of sighing he had done in the last hour. The ten-year-old tried for a smile.
Shifting, Vlad patted Anatoly's shoulder. "Come on, let's try to get some sleep. Staying up won't help you any, okay?"
"Yeah," the younger agreed, starting to stand up. He wondered where he would be if something had happened to his brother - no, he didn't want to know.