Raju's expression had been polite interest a moment ago, when he'd been asking a question that didn't matter. It's shifted very slowly, stricken as he hears the words, feels them attach themselves to his skin and start sinking down inside. It was inevitable, wasn't it, that this moment would come. He realises that now. Of course Francis would wake up again, because he hadn't done this yet. He hadn't passed this on for Raju to carry it instead. Of course he couldn't die before he did that.
Raju feels his heart beating against his ribs. He hears the roaring from the fireplace, from outside. He feels the air settling heavily against his skin, pressing down against the centre of his chest, his throat. The roaring noise keeps going, low, heavy, unrelenting.
If I die...
Boiling. That's what he's hearing. The water is boiling. Raju turns away from Francis all at once, hand dropping away from his neck to dart toward the handle, yank itself back, go at the pot again with a rag messily wrapped around its fingers this time. His head is ducked down to look only at the water in it, and his breaths come hard and shaking through his nose, and the water is too hot.
If I die, I need you to...
Francis won't be able to drink it like this. His hands dart hurriedly to the pile of rags once and then, reconsidering, another time, dipping them into the water and lifting them and twisting to wring out the water and feeling whether they're hot enough. He can still use this. He can heat these up with it, and put them over the back of Francis' neck. That will make him more comfortable. He should be more comfortable, now. Never mind why.
He's more lucid than he was when Raju first found him, but that can't mean much. He'll forget. If Raju doesn't reply, dying will distract him, and he'll forget.
Raju's hands go still. He doesn't look up. He doesn't know what to do with the thought, so he doesn't do anything. But Francis will need something soon. Something else. So Raju can do that instead.
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Raju feels his heart beating against his ribs. He hears the roaring from the fireplace, from outside. He feels the air settling heavily against his skin, pressing down against the centre of his chest, his throat. The roaring noise keeps going, low, heavy, unrelenting.
If I die...
Boiling. That's what he's hearing. The water is boiling. Raju turns away from Francis all at once, hand dropping away from his neck to dart toward the handle, yank itself back, go at the pot again with a rag messily wrapped around its fingers this time. His head is ducked down to look only at the water in it, and his breaths come hard and shaking through his nose, and the water is too hot.
If I die, I need you to...
Francis won't be able to drink it like this. His hands dart hurriedly to the pile of rags once and then, reconsidering, another time, dipping them into the water and lifting them and twisting to wring out the water and feeling whether they're hot enough. He can still use this. He can heat these up with it, and put them over the back of Francis' neck. That will make him more comfortable. He should be more comfortable, now. Never mind why.
He's more lucid than he was when Raju first found him, but that can't mean much. He'll forget. If Raju doesn't reply, dying will distract him, and he'll forget.
Raju's hands go still. He doesn't look up. He doesn't know what to do with the thought, so he doesn't do anything. But Francis will need something soon. Something else. So Raju can do that instead.