There was a dull ache in her knees. Dull, but still sharp. She tried to stretch and her body rebelled. Adina made a quick, pained sound, then stopped. The light that was filtering into the room from the windows was muted. It had to be early morning. She reached across the bed, but it was empty. That wasn't right, she furrowed her brow, shifting onto her back. Her knees throbbed.
"Hey," he sat down on the edge of the bed, "we should do something about those."
"What?" She tried to sit up, but then fell back against the pillows. "What time is it?"
"About five thirty," he settled a hand on her bare calf, thumb just barely brushing her knee. "I should have done something about these last night, I'm sorry."
"Not your fault," she said, her whole body was sore. Not, like, 'I just had a marathon sex session with my boyfriend and we forgot to hydrate' sore, but more, 'I had a marathon sex session with my boyfriend and not one bit of it was gentle and i'm over thirty' sore. Also she forgot to hydrate. "Well," she said, quirking a brow, "not entirely, anyway."
He laughed, "I'll take care of these if you take care of my back."
"Your… wait, what?" She sat up a little quicker than she meant to and groaned. "Fuck, I'm out of shape."
Mathias chuckled and turned away from her slightly so she could see the deep, ragged furrows in his back. "I can't really reach."
"Jesus, did I do that?" she reached out to brush his hair away and look at the mess. There were lighter scrapes too. Still, obviously fingernails, but not bloodied. She had a vague recollection of falling asleep on the bed, of trying to get him to talk about Gail. There was another fight. She'd called him-well it didn't much matter what she called him, he'd called her things too. She'd started cleaning his apartment because she had to do something with that anger. And then somehow they were fucking.
"That was definitely you," he said, shifting back, letting his hair fall again. He took one of her hands, "Adina-"
"Don't you dare apologize," she said, lifting her chin. She started to pull her hand back, but he stopped her, turning it over so that he could scrutinize her palm. "I'm serious, Mathias, don't you dare."
"I wasn't going to apologize," he said, tracing a line in her palm with his finger. "Well," he shook his head, "we were pretty hard on each other."
"We were," she agreed. "Are you ready to talk to me?"
He laughed shortly and dropped her hand, getting up from the bed to go back into the kitchen. Adina sighed, going to rest her elbows on her knees and then remembering, wincing at the sting as she touched one. He wouldn't talk to her, but he'd take his emotion out on her body if she let him. It was something, she thought. Something.
Mathias sat back down on the bed, a tube of ointment, some q-tips, and a stack of bandages in his hand. "Turn on the light, will you?"
She rolled her eyes, reaching over to the bedside table to flick on the light switch. The movement made her aware of a few dozen aches in as many places. She needed a soak in the tub back at her house. "Will there be a funeral?" She asked, because she needed to say something.
He shook his head, his attention on the tube of Neosporin as he squeezed some onto the cotton swab. "She wouldn't have wanted that kind of fuss. I can take you to where she's buried if you want."
"She's already buried?" Adina was surprised, though maybe she shouldn't have been. It was the idea that Gail was already in the ground with nothing to mark the burial. It'd been less than four days. But then, was also weirded out when people had funerals a week after someone died. She shook her head, feeling adrift in a sea of misunderstanding.
"Yeah," his eyes flicked to hers and for a moment she saw pain there. "This is going to sting."
"I know," she winced anyway. He was trying to be gentle, but her knees were just too abraded. In places the skin was rubbed completely raw. He touched the cotton swab to her knee and she gasped, hands jerking on the quilt. His other hand found hers and she took it, though she felt a little silly. Her fingers clenched around his. "It is highly unfair that this hurts."
"Yeah," he said, though she caught the note of humor in his voice.
"Ass," Adina shot back, toes curling into the quilt in spasms as he dabbed at her knee. "Is Useless really okay?" The muscles in her leg tensed as he blew on his work. The cool air made her shiver.
"He'll be okay," he ripped open one of the bandages with his teeth, gently disentangling his hand from hers. Adina told herself not to be ridiculous, that wasn't a sign of anything but that he needed two hands to unpeel the bandage. "He can leave the vet's office in a few days."
"Wow, that's really soon," she was surprised, though she supposed she shouldn't be.
"Yeah," he made a face, crumpled the bandage wrapper and tossed it at the wastebasket. "Listen, he really has a thing about men… I don't know why."
"I remember," she said carefully. Mathias's face was carefully neutral.
"Would you be willing to… I mean, I get it if it's too much-"
"Of course I'll take him," she said, she took his hand, "hey." His face stayed implaccable and she released his fingers to cup his face in her hands, "Hey."
Mathias blinked slowly, meeting her gaze.
"We talked about this, that's our dog." She didn't point out that they'd talked about it after screaming at each other on a mountainside. Details weren't important. Right now she was more worried about his distance.
"Yeah," he shook himself and leaned down, thumb grazing her bandaged knee before his lips pressed against it-not enough to hurt but enough that she could feel his warmth. His hair tickled her leg and she ran her fingers through it. He said something against her skin and she sat back, head dipping to catch his eye. She was disappointed when he went back to bandaging her other knee.
"Where are you?" she asked softly, not really expecting an answer.
"Gail didn't have anybody," he said finally. "She never married, her parents are dead. Everybody around here was scared of her, she just wanted to be left alone."
Adina forced herself not to say anything. He had a hand on her thigh to hold her knee steady and she touched it. Her thumb grazing his knuckles. His skin was warm.
"I used to look in on her once a week or so, just, you know, to check. One day she got mad and threw her ashtray at me. She said it was creeping her out how i kept checking to make sure she wasn't dead."
Her bark of laughter was unexpected and she clapped a hand over her mouth, "Oh god, I'm sorry."
"That was her," he said, a small smile curving his lips. "Pain in the ass above all else."
"Sounds familiar," she said, lip curling.
"Yeah," he laughed a little, starting to work on her other knee.
"What are we going to do about your back?" She asked after a moment, because he didn't seem to want to say anything further. "It seems like a waste of BandAids."
"I have some spray stuff that'll work, it's a pain in the ass, but it's better than trying to bandage it." He reached for the second bandage and tossed the cotton swab in the litter basket. "I need to be at work in a few hours."
"Do you want me to go?" She asked, feeling awkward and confused and still incredibly tired.
"No," he looked surprised and she was relieved. "No," he stopped and look at her, really looked at her. "It won't always be like this."
"Like…"
"This," he gestured between the two of them. Adina said nothing, just waited. "I'll try harder," he said finally.
She smiled, taking one of his hands and turning it over to stare into the palm, as he'd done with her. "I don't expect you to be anything more than you are," she traced one of the lines in his palm, then fitted her hand to his, fingers flexing against his own. "I see you keeping things close and I get it, I really do. But you don't have to take all that on your own."
"I know," his eyes were unfathomable. There was nothing else she could say. She'd already begged him to talk to her.
She lifted his hand and kissed the knuckles, "Bring me whatever it is you want me to use on your back." She could imagine what Trish would say about this. But she wasn't going to push the issue any more than she already had. Everyone grieves in their own way, after all.
