(Okay, thanks for letting me know!)
Max….Hearing his name from that voice again, it is so refreshing. It was powerful enough to make tears well up in his eyes. He just blinked, then pushed his glasses back in hopes of them going away. Oh and that breathtaking face too. The paleness worries him so yet the eyes and features still remain the same. How it reminds him of the young man his heart beat for; and after all this time, it continues to beat for the man, his longtime friend.
No, stop it, He thought to himself. Tilting his head back, he laughed a little. "Max, Maximillian, Doctor Solomon….Call me by whatever name as you please." He set his bag down on the floor near the bed, leaving it to rest gently against the one bed post. Turning to face Ivory, he gently sat down on the edge of the bed. "Hopefully I can still call you Ivory. May I, Your Grace?"
His hands rested neatly on his lap as he sat up straight. An eternity must have passed by, but even then, the aching feeling in his heart still remained. Except now, it is overwhelming. Seeing one of the people he cares for the most in such an ill state makes him worried so. Not seeing Ivory for years makes him feel like the worst person on Earth. If only him and God could ever forgive him. He just wants to take Ivory's hand into his while begging for forgiveness, and yet, he know that now is not the time.
"Oh well….I am quite alright. Busy as always, although, I am not one to complain about that," He smiled. "If I may say, I had only stepped into my home from a late visit then went back out after I got your mother's letter. I know that I am here as a doctor, but I am also here as your friend; and yet, I should have met with you the instant moment I had returned. I deeply regret it so."
He must have a headache. That must be what this pain is. From what, Ivory was not sure, but he leaned back and rested his head against the pillows behind him, keeping his eyes on Maximillian.
“Alright, Max.” He laughed a little. “You could call me Ivy again, I would not mind.” Ivy was a rather tender nickname. Only his sister and his friend had used it, but it would be nice to be called as such again.
For a moment he closed his eyes, unable to focus properly. Yet, he still smiled. “That is good to hear.” Then he opened his eyes again, caught by something in Maximillian’s voice. “Oh, no, I understand. I’m familiar with being too busy, even though I haven’t been doing much since… ah.” He gestured vaguely. “All of this. I am just glad you are here now.”
The words were true, the longer he looked at the man across from him. Maximillian’s presence was a warm fireplace in the center of the cold mansion that seemed to be his life. He had gotten used to the fireplace being out after all this time, but the warmth that came from it being alight again was a relief and a joy.
Laying down helped in managing the headache, so he stayed there and closed his eyes again.
Even as they spoke, his eyes observed Ivy. The smile pressing on his face was fading, but he fought for it to stay. Maximillian is more than happy to see his friend, to be with him, but the pain in his heart is painful to bare.
Leaning over, he opened up his bag then pulled put his clean apron. "Thank you, Ivy," He said, giving a wink. "You are so kind as always." Chuckling softly, he gazed down at the floor while tying the apron on. It was on off white with some pockets sewn thanks to Doctor Loman's wife's help; it hugged his body nicely.
As he ambled over towards the window, he listened to Ivy. With hands clasped behind his back, he gazed outside. Light gray clouds blanketed the sky, covering the sun and its blue sea. Pulling the curtains, he opened the windows slightly. Fresh air should help a little.
"It warms my heart so to hear you like this again," He beamed as he walked by over the bedside. This time he sat closer to Ivy. Slowly bending at the waist, he rested his hand on Ivy's head. It is slightly warmer than normal. He removed his hand then let it sat on his lap. "I told your mother that I would do everything in my power to make sure you heal and feel better. I promise you this along with the promise to spend more time with you once again."
(Hi! I’m back :)
He couldn’t help but grin when he heard the nickname. It really was so good to have Max here again, and it almost made up for the time lost. If only they had met again under better circumstances. Soon a feeling of guilt crept into him, and the grin faded. If only he was stronger. If only he wasn’t sick. Pearl was always the strong one, not him. He was only strong because he was born first, because Father wanted him to be.
Father? Ivory had not thought of him in a long time, perhaps literal years. He shook his head slightly, opening his eyes. He watched as Max drew back the curtains and opened the windows, and the faint but distinct scent of wet grass and leaves and flowers reached his nose. His mind calmed, but some guilt remained. He seemed to always think the wrong things at the wrong time. He did not want to think about Father again.
There was more light in the room now, so Ivory busied himself with taking in Max’s brilliant eyes and his lovely smile. “Ah,” he murmured. “I’m glad.” He had been told by his mother that there would be days where he would speak less often or less cheerily than usual, so this was good to hear. His eyes closed again when he felt Max’s hand on his head, then fluttered open again. They followed his hand as it moved to his lap.
What if I die? The question was the first thing that came to his mind. But he did not dare say it out loud. He should not even be thinking it. Don’t die like your sister did.
“I trust that you will,” he said instead. “It would be wonderful to spend time with you again, when I am well and if either of us are not too busy.”
(Welcome back! I'm very busy this weekend so I may not be able to respond for a while, but I'll do my best. :D )
(Understandable my dude! Good luck handling the business)
(Thanks. Also, thanks for the wait, I appreciate it. :)
Questions floated through his mind while he adjusted the sleeves around his wrists. A small breath escaped. His heart still pounding regardless of how much he is trying to ignore it. Thankfully the curiosites he possessed and Ivory's words feasibly filled his attention.
"We will," He assured. "I am sure of it." That is all he can say on the matter except for how much he is sorry and for all the things he wants to do with Ivy. Going to parties, eating at fine places, looking at art, walking through the gardens….The list goes on and on really. Thousands upon thousands of things he wants to do with him all piling up since the day he left England.
"I am going to check for your pulse." Gently, Max took Ivory's hand then turned it. Using his index and middle finger, he lightly pressed down. He does have a stethoscope, although that would require Ivory to sit up and such; he really only wants to reserve any movement until he surely knows what is happening.
From what he detected, Ivory's pulse seems to be weaker than normal, but he was unsure if it was alarmingly weak or not. In a way, Max felt as if it's in the middle. "Your mother wrote to me saying you have been unwell since returning from a business trip. When did you start experiencing symptoms? What symptoms do you possess aside from exhasution?"
At this point, the headache was something he could ignore. It was present, he could feel it, but perhaps it would go away soon if he just kept himself still. Ivory’s eyes were drawn to Max’s movements, and he smiled faintly at his words. He remembered that he had wanted to show him all of the plants and trees he had found and/or planted in his gardens, he wanted to know the stories from Max’s time abroad, or just to go out with him and talk for hours. Sometimes, especially in those early days when Max had first left, Ivory would find himself daydreaming about doing such things.
Ivory nodded, letting the doctor take his hand. The touch was gentle, not uncomfortable in the least. There was suddenly this old nervousness, however, that stirred in him. This reminded him a little of the days when the doctor would come to examine Pearl, years ago. Often he would be there to watch him do the same thing Max was doing now.
A frown pulled on his lips, and he tilted his head to think. “Yes… I believe it was some five, six days ago. I remember thinking it was because of something that I had eaten, because when I returned home I had dinner, and some time after that I began feeling nauseous. I also recall having no feeling in my limbs and lightheadedness, though those came later.” His gaze drifted. Suddenly the headache was more noticeable. “Ah… there is shortness of breath as well, and I had been suffering from fever for about two days until this morning. Now, I just have a headache.” He laughed a little, with a small grimace at the end. “I also haven’t… eaten much. I suppose I should be eating breakfast right now, but I do not think I would be able to stomach it, and nor does eating sound appealing to me.”
The smile left him captivated. Max has seen it thousands of times ever since he could remember, but every time Ivy smiled, it was as if he is seeing it for the first time. Oh how he missed seeing it. When it faded and turned into a frown, his concern had returned.
An imaginary list formed in his mind with everything that was told to him. At the same time, he went through all of the possibilities as to a diagnosis as well as a treatment. Maybe some form of acute gastric illness, although at the moment, he is unsure. Some symptoms clashed with his thoughts leaving him to frown himself.
Still holding Ivy's hand, he used his thumb and index finger to lightly squeeze on the union valley pressure point; the area between the thumb and index. It is a pressure point where if you squeeze it for a few seconds then rubbed it, doing so may help with headaches. Funny enough, he did not learn this in school, he learned it from a fellow pupil who is from the southern region of Japan where the Dutch trade. After softly rubbing for a minute, he switched to the other hand.
Max leaned over to brush some of Ivy's hair away from his face. "Well, I tried messaging your hands to help with the headache, but I can give you lavender for it too," He nodded. "Now, my dear friend, you mentioned eating, but what about drinking? Do you frequently drink water or anything else?'
The smile returned with Max’s touch. Ivory always loved that sort of physical affection between them; the hugs and handshakes, the small touches to the shoulder or arm. It had been so long since he had felt it, and quickly the nervousness from earlier faded away. It was strange, though, this light squeezing. Ivory watched with interest.
He then raised his head to look at him, eyes fluttering as his hair was pushed back. He liked this too, and quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, they had spoken warmly to each other, and yes, Max was doing his best to take care of him, but this felt like a gesture that showed that they had truly never grown apart after all these years. Even with being in the positions in life that they are now, his friend still brushed aside his hair as if they were still boys playing in the garden.
“Thank you. I don’t think I will need lavender, however,” he said. For a moment he had to pause. He had not really been keeping track of how much he drank. “Ah… I suppose… I usually drink with my meals, and since I have not been eating, I do not think I am drinking as much as is normal. My mother does sometimes insist that I drink something even without food, so I will have tea or water occasionally. She sometimes gives me the medicinal wine we have stored as well, but that is only for when I am in more severe pain.”
These words brought up a memory, and he cringed. “Ah… there’s no physical reaction whenever I am drinking, unlike with eating, but it does create problems whenever I need to relieve myself. So, I end up avoiding drinking sometimes.”
His breathing hitched as he stared at Ivy. Any thoughts lingering in his mind were gone the moment he blinked. Max did not even notice the fact that he was holding Ivy's cheek until his own were suddenly growing warm. This sort of interaction with Ivy is quite normal, although he felt funny everytime it happened.
Clearing his throat, he pushed his glasses back. A nervous smile broke into his face. Feels like an eternity since they had last met, but nothing has changed between them at all. His own personal sentiments about Ivy have not changed one bit, and in a way, he is very grateful for that fact.
Max sat up straight, letting his hand rest on his lap. The professional mentality did its best to sink in as his friend responded to his questions. He nodded while taking in every word. Barely eating and barely drinking, it made him anxious to do something, but he knew that his treatments will take time.
"Now, you should not be burdening yourself, instead, please relax. On the other hand, I ask of you to make an effort to drink water at the least. Perhaps five to seven if you can. Teas and wines should be second really. You should start somewhere small to make a greater process, is that so?"
Slowly, he stood up from the bedside. His knees made a small crack sound as he did so. Strands of hair fell in front of his face. "How about we take one right now? What do you think, Ivy, my dear friend?"
Ivory did not quite notice Max holding his cheek either, but that lingering feeling in the back of his mind made itself known again. He glanced away from him, almost subconsciously, as he tried to push that feeling down. It could not even get to the surface, it could not.
As he listened, he realized his head felt more clear. Perhaps Max’s little trick worked. Ivory adjusted his glasses, even though he could not really feel his fingers now. “Yes,” he replied, “I can certainly try.”
His eyes followed his friend as he stood. They always seemed to be drawn to him, despite his inner shame or business. “That sounds like a good idea,” he admitted. “Since it’s still mid morning.”
Water was a good start. Sometimes Ivory likened himself to a plant in this way. For some reason, whenever he thought of himself as a plant, it was somehow easier to take care of himself, even before he grew ill. He always looked after the plants in his gardens with the utmost care, but for some reason he could never do the same for himself. Plants needed water. Ivory needed water. Put like this, it was easier to do things like drink or eat. He was the plant, and he was sick. Only by taking care of himself, just as a plant makes its own food, would he be well again. And perhaps he would not even be free from this illness— he could not conquer that by himself, but perhaps it would allow this cold mansion of life to warm up again, not solely illuminated by Max’s presence.
(Tbh, they're both amazing! You're a really good drawer)
The line between being professional and a friend was beginning to blur. What made it worse was that another party had joined; the familiar oddity causing his heart to go into palpitations. Well, hopefully he is not getting palpitations; that wouldn't be good. Though it seemed as if he has had this feeling around Ivory since he was sixteen or so. Hopefully it isn't really heart palpitations.
With his feet pointing towards the door, he turned his head to look at Ivory. A gentle grin pressed onto his face while he nodded. "Good, I am glad that it does." Max took off his glasses then placed them in the pocket of his apron. Strolling over to the door, he opened it then called for a servant to fetch a pitcher or water and two glasses.
Ironically, he did not eat breakfast too, but he was not going to tell his ill friend about it. Did he even get any sleep? Who knows? As he stood there waiting, he kept looking over at Ivory in the corner of his eyes; it is impossible for him to look away. Even as the servant handed him the tray, he whispered a thanks, but still was gazing over at Ivory.
"Well, this should be a start for better things," He said setting down the tray. Lifting the pitcher up, he poured water into the two glasses. Using both of his hands, he cautiously handed one over to Ivory. "Here you go my friend."
Max sat back down on the side of the bed with his glass. It rest on his lap as his fingers wrapped around the cool glass cup. A quiet sigh drew out from the small gap between his lips.
(Thank you!)
It was impossible to not notice Max’s gaze, however. And it was impossible not to stare back. Ivory’s eyes followed him in everything he did. Maybe it was that he needed to make sure that he was… actually there. That he wouldn’t disappear like something from his imagination.
As Max set down the tray, he nodded. “Yes,” he agreed, but something in his mind heaved, as if in resistance. The part that did not want change, the part that stewed in self-hatred and sorrow. What did it matter? He had settled into this pattern of life, what was the point of getting out of it? To live, he thought, his mind fighting against itself. To not die like she did and to spend time with him again.
Also using both hands with just as much caution, Ivory took the glass. “Thank you.” He started to worry that he would drop it. His hands were numb now. If he could take off his glasses, they would look as blurry as they felt. Despite this, they did not give way. All he could feel were vague masses of flesh clutching something cold. Slowly, but also anxiously, he lifted the glass to his lips and sipped. Cool liquid slid down his throat, and he swallowed. When he was done he set in his lap, so he could still drink without worrying about it dropping in the meantime. He tried curling his fingers. He felt nothing.
Yet, he looked at Max, smiling faintly. “Would you like me to tell you more about that business trip? It was a little boring, but you might glean something useful. Besides, I haven’t told you much of my work, have I?”
The cool water contrasted with the heat rising in his throat. His heart must be trying to escape again. Funny how he has always had this feeling with Ivory, and he did not learn a thing about this sensation at all in his schooling. Max practically finished the entire glass within a minute or so. Not for any particular reason though.
Getting up again, he sat it on the far end of the nightstand. He went over to open up his bag to pull out a clean rag. It was neatly folded and had a small blue flower embroidered on. Facing Ivy, he held it while watching his friend drink from the glass. His eyes squinted as he watched the fingers around the glass; he noted the way Ivory was making them move.
"Here." He held out the rag so Ivory could see the flower on it. Then Max went on to lightly pour some water onto the rag. "My mentor forced me to take embroidery lessons, saying it would be helpful. I made this cloth for you…well…I made more actually, if you want them that is, but I thought we could use this to help."
This time he sat more closely to Ivory. With the cloth ringed out, he patted it on his friend's forehead briefly. He let it rest in his hand on top of his apron for a second. "Clever as always, Ivy," He squeezed his friend's hand. "Alas I do not believe you haven't, but, you may tell me all that you believe to be vital even details that one may not wish to hear. It is alright, not just because of my occupation, but due to our eternal friendship. Tell me all, please."
Ivory’s attention moved to the folded cloth, but just enough so that he was also aware of the glass’s position as well. His eyes widened slightly. “Oh, it’s beautiful! It looks like a chicory flower. You’re very good.” Then a smile spread on his face. “I mean.. if you are giving it to me, I will take it. You are too kind, my friend.”
The cool wetness to his forehead was greatly appreciated. Ivory closed his eyes for a moment. To him, the rag could function as the letters he never received while Max was gone. Something to remember his friend by whenever he was not there. And oddly enough, he thought it better that he should receive something like this from Max himself, rather than simply getting letters that would most likely just remind Ivory of the pain of his absence.
Carefully, he raised his glass so he could drink once more, then set it back on the tray. Better to leave it there than keep it in his unsteady, unfeeling hands. Though, when his friend squeezed one, he thought he felt something, but it was strange. It felt more so like his hand had fallen asleep and it was now waking up. Was that what was happening? But, no. When Max’s hand stopped squeezing, it returned to numbness.
He chuckled. “Oh, well. I just brought it up for conversation, mostly. The Lords had a sitting last week, so I had to organize a trip to London. It was rather stressful, but then, it always is. The Commons was pushing for more reform bills, and I would say that was the boring part. Just looking over their proposals and things, and even if most of us wanted to reject the bills, the Commons will just keep pushing until they are passed. At least, that’s what it’s been like more and more often. I’ll spare you the details, I don’t think it was of particular importance. More notable was that the sitting lasted nearly the whole day. Oh, Max, by that point I was begging the Lord Almighty to give me strength. And, you see, a lot of the other members a quite a few years older than I, and I have a feeling they see me as some sort of young upstart.” Here, he laughed a little again. “Not so much now, I’d say.”
Once again, Ivory was reminded of the past. He had never spoken to anyone this much in recent days, and it reminded him of when he and his friend were youths, and he was rambling about some mischief he or Pearl had pulled.
“Still, the looks they tend to give me are not the friendliest,” he continued. “Anyway, I left the next morning. I think it rained the whole train ride… like the rain clouds were following us. It at least let up when I crossed into Norfolk, so the carriage I took wasn’t riding on mud.”
"Really? You think so?" He sighed, glimpsing at the cloth for a moment. It was a pain to learn embroidery, yet it was more of a pain to think about how much he had missed Ivory. It was pain to think about the sin of not being able to write and send letters over the course of years. And a cloth; all he can give for the years of being a part is an embroidered flower on a cloth that he made one night after a terrible nightmare. "I am more than happy to know you like it. Even though it is such a thing that my sisters do, it is quite enjoyable. Perhaps I shall make another one soon. Maybe a pink rose?"
His face turned red in an instant. Perhaps his excitement or professionalism had gotten the best of him. If Doctor Lomon was with him right now, he would just pat him on the back and assure him that it is better than nothing. Then again, his mentor is not aware of his friend and how much he cares about him. Having his hand behind his neck, he giggled to himself for a second then gazed back at Ivory.
Maximillian felt himself being the same child he was oh so long ago. Sitting attentively and eagerly with fascination while listening to his friend speak. Not a single muscle in his body moved. His heart beating quietly, taking in every word being said. His pupils widened despite the fact they were always lit up whenever around his friend.
He had almost forgotten the fact that Ivory has to take up political duties as a duke. Momentarily, he imagined what it would be like to see his friend amongst other men in the House of Commons. A dimly lit room with a bunch a men sitting together, but in the midst, there is Ivory standing out from the rest. The thought made him grin warmly.
"The clouds only let up because you were there. I cannot say the same for those gentlemen though," He sighed, rolling his eyes. "You look at you….In the House of Commons now? Looking through and passing bills? Ivory, you are amazing, I hope you are aware of that. Surely more amazing than the rest."
Ivory chuckled suddenly, a thought coming to him. “Perhaps if you think of it like stitching up a wound, it will be even more enjoyable.” He laughed at himself, but then he felt the pain in his head again, and his laughter died as he put a hand to his temple. Still, he smiled. “Oh, yes, that sounds lovely. But will you make it pale pink, or dark pink? One means joy and grace, the other thankfulness.”
He giggled again, despite himself. Max just looked so adorable when he blushed, Ivory could not help himself. His hand fell from his temple, and he set it in his lap as he leaned back against the pillows again to soothe the aching.
“Perhaps.” Shaking his head, he chuckled again at his friend’s comment. “House of Lords,” he corrected. The compliments did not quite register with him. “Thank you, Max, but I am not the one passing bills. I am just there to give my opinion and vote.” He sighed faintly. “Besides, I have always been more interested in what is going on here than in Parliament. I am certainly no upstart, but I am… certainly disinterested at times.” He said this with some kind of guilt, as though he did not want to admit it. He shut his eyes; the pain in his head had grown.
He shrugged with a tilt of his head as he grinned. "I suppose you are right; also comes in handy if there's a hole in a shirt. I ended up being better at stitching than three quarters of my class. If I ever have the time, I will make a pale pink then a dark pink one."
Throwing his head back, he laughed at the correction. "Oh dear me," He shook his head. "Believe me, my friend. I am an Englishman, no matter how Dutch I appear to be. I thank the Lord for making a physician, but I wish he didn't make me so forgetful." He breathed while pouring more water on the rag then wringing it out. Leaning forward, he softly dabbed it. "Everyone part of the process is helping pass it one way or another, including you. I'd even argue that the ones making the paper for the bills is a part of it too. It's like all the cells in the body; each one is helping a being stay alive. Nevertheless, I am still impressed of you, Ivy."
Maximillian sat the cloth down near the pitcher and did the same with Ivory's glass. Taking his friend's right hand, he went back to what he had done before. "Maybe it is not meant for you. Everyone has to fulfill some duty that is not of their interest. It is alright."
(“Ivy, I’m a lesbian”)
(“I thought you were an Englishman”)
“Well look at that. You’ve always been so talented, Max.” Then he nodded. “Oh yes, you can always make both when you are able.”
Max’s laugh was so adorable. Why was everything about him so adorable? “I am not so sure,” Ivory teased. “You have been in Holland for quite a while. Are you sure you have not become one of the Dutch?” Laughing a little, he closed his eyes and let him dab the rag. “Well, I suppose you are right. It would be quite inconvenient if the bill couldn’t be written down. Thank you.”
His hands barely reacted to his friend’s touch. Could he even move them anymore? He was not sure. Perhaps he should tell Max, but he was hesitant, and the pain made it hard to think. And then he became focused on Max’s words. His eyes flickered open for a moment.
“Well, over the years, I think I have come to realize that,” Ivory sighed. “It is just… you know I have always wanted to be like you. Study what I wanted to study. Maybe even become a biologist like you became a doctor. But of course, I had a duty. A duty to the people here, or at least that is how I saw it.” His voice lowered a bit, whether from the pain or some kind of nervousness he was not sure. “Mother always told me it was a duty to my father, but I may be honest, that made me even less interested.” He let himself laugh a little again before it faded. “Thank you, friend, by the way.”
(Max rn: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlLzgUn5tPI)
Shaking his head, he tried to hide his face with his left hand. It moved behind his neck, feeling the warm of his skin. "I am only good at what I do because I take inspiration from those I value so dearly," He winked.
A string of chuckles managed to escape from him. "Ik hoop het mijn liefste." His eyes squinted with suspicion before he returned to being his bright cheery self again. Of course, this meant more laughter from him. A slow exhale came from him. He brushed away some of the blond hair before inclining his head. "Of course, my friend."
The detection of no movements alarmed him. Even if Ivory was still, he would have expected to feel the fingers slightly move or maybe even a tiny flinch. Maximillian switched to the other hand. His focus switched to listening to his beloved friend. After setting the cloth down at the nightstand, he rested both his hands on his lap. His head tilted a little to the left as he locked eyes with Ivory.
"Think of it however you wish to, it is your life after all, but maybe you can still go after your dreams even if the road to it seems endless," He shrugged. "Go and study biology. Tend to your gardens. Have parties and invite fellow biologist and botanists then have discussions with them. When you are well again, do all these things. Just because you are the Duke Ivory Michael Winn of Norfolk does not mean you have to give everything up. Do not lose your interest please, it's one thing that I like about you."
(LOL)
A smirk tugged on his lips as his friend tried to hide his face, but then he too had to look away at the wink. “Well, I think some of it should at least be entirely original to you, yes?”
Max’s chuckles, his laughter, oh it was like music. It was like the dawn that brought him out of a dreary, stormy night. Ivory felt a surge of nostalgia and longing. He had missed this so dearly. For a moment he thought he would tear up.
The surge of emotion made his mind cloudy. He wasn’t sure if his friend squeezing his hands was working or not, but he tried to calm himself and breathe. At least the cloudiness was better than the pain.
Then dismay entered his mind. The thing was, he was beginning to suspect that he was losing interest. Before he fell ill, the most he had done was tend to his gardens and read, not much else. And why did Max’s suggestions sounded uninteresting too? They would be valuable and informative, but there was this feeling of apathy in Ivy’s mind. Shouldn’t he be excited about those ideas? And yet at the same time, for reasons and feelings he were sure were separated from anything related to fatigue or pain, he was not. “Yes, but…” He trailed off, unsure.
Ivory then glanced to his left, where the book he had been reading laid. The Processes and Functions of an Ash Tree was its title, and he thought he could show it to Max, but when he tried to move his hand to grab it, he found it would not listen to him. His fingers were numb. How would he be able to hold the book? He suspected it would fall right out.
“I try,” he murmured, “though sometimes I feel strangely apathetic about it at times. Although,” he decided to stiffly tap the book instead. “I was indeed studying, if this counts.”
"I…I suppose….I suppose that you are right, Ivy," He agreed. "Although I am not sure where it begins and ends with me. You know this, before I even considered being a doctor, I always took to heart everyone who mattered to me. Maybe my heart is behind all of this."
The concern of the possible numbness in his friend's hands returned. Like a machine, his brain operated going through possibilities of a diagnosis and treatment. He is grateful to be having such a sweet conversation with his friend. Not only is it filling his heart with joy, it can serve as a guide for him. The concentration led his awareness to blur everything else out. He stared into Ivory's eyes while his hand stopped massaging and just held it.
Maximillian glimpsed over at the book until his attention turned to Ivory's other hand. He watched to see his friend's reaction then dragged his bag closer using his free hand. It pulled out a roll of tightly woven nylon cloth. One way to help with numbness of hands is to create some sort of splint or even a wrist brace. Opening it, he began to wrap it around the wrist. "Fraxinus," He recalled. "It is. If you believe it to be, then it is. There are many ways to study."
Setting the roll down on his lap, he took a pair of scissors then cut the bandage from the roll. He secured the brace with a nice firm bow. "Forgive me for changing subjects, but, would it be possible that this apathy and the numbness of your hands be symptoms of your illness? I am aware it may be foolish of me to discuss with you, my beloved friend and patient, your illness and symptoms as if you are a doctor, but I am curious." He sighed. "I am not an alienist, though I have a theory that your illness may have to do with state of your mind, emotionally. It is only a theory I have, but I need to take care of this numbness along with your other symptoms especially if you want to continue your studies."
A few minutes passed by as he went silent and went to create a wrist brace for the other wrist. Once he was done, he grabbed the book then sat it on his friend's lap. "I could read it you, if you want."
Ivory shrugged. “I do not think it matters. And besides, isn’t inspiration taking what you see from others and making it your own?”
Soon the cloudiness lifted, and slowly, the aching too. He wished he could hold his friend’s hand just as firmly as he was holding his. He could barely even feel Max’s touch.
When he pulled up the bag and produced the the cloth bandages, Ivory’s face tinted pink. Did his friend figure it out? He suddenly felt guilty for not saying anything, and the color deepened as the cloth was wrapped around his wrist. At the same time, he wished Max did not have to do this. He sighed, but then smiled faintly.
“Fraxinus excelsior, mostly,” he said. “But it does compare it to others in the genus. Not a bad read.”
Ivory looked down at the brace, examining it. It was a strange feeling. He could detect the pressure on the hand, but it was faint and the brace snug and well-made enough to make the hand appear and feel stone-like. He looked back up at Max.
He blinked, then avoided his gaze. Despite his friend being here again, despite being alone together, there were still things that were difficult to speak about. His own emotions being one of them. “I believe the numbness is a symptom,” he confirmed. “There have been worse cases in the past few days.” After a pause, he said, “It’s not foolish. We are figuring this out together.” Ivory then frowned at his lap, as if at a memory. If they were doing this together, then he was going to have to be willing to feel uncomfortable. His voice lowered. “I have felt this apathy for years before this. At least, I am fairly sure. I do not know how it can be connected with this.”
Both of his hands felt like they been turned to stone now. The book then covered his lap, and he finally looked at Max again. He blinked. “Oh, well, if it doesn’t keep you from your work, then sure.
