I jumped when I felt a heavy arm wrap around my shoulders as he pulled me in closer. He himself had leaned against me. His weight bearing down on my form. It confused me. I was certain that he would…

I took a deep shuddering breath as I voiced my thought. “You… Don’t hate me?”

“No. Not in the least. I am grateful. Glad you were here.” His voice was still rough, still weak, but it was beginning to steady-akin to a strong foundation. It was low, and rumbling.

I exhaled slowly. It was a figurative weight off my shoulders. Hearing his voice improve meant I hadn't horribly messed up the procedure. It meant he would be ok. Then there were his words. Whilst slightly forced they sounded sincere. “I am sorry. I should have gotten someone to help I panicked. “

“I do not know, at this point, if that would have been right. No, I think what you did was the best course.” He relaxed his hold on my shoulder, letting me sit back up if I wanted to. “I am honest, Aynur. I am glad you were here to help me.”

“I just followed your instructions. Ah… I... hope you don't mind. The shirt…” He gave a weak laugh.

“No, I do not mind. As far as I know, most men like it when the women in their lives wear their clothes.” His chuckle was strained, but clearly amused.

I didn't get the joke. I wasn’t referring to what I was wearing, but to the blood soaked one I had used to clean his wound. I pursed my lips in a pout. What an odd thing for men to like. I knew he didn't like talking and that he wasn't in a condition to do so… Still the questions kept coming, innocent ones I couldn't help but ask.

“Do you need anything else?” My friend was silent for a few moments, leaning against me slightly as we sat there. Finally he sagged down a bit.

“I… Stay?” He sounded tired.

He was asking me to stay? I shuffled beneath his loose grip. Tristain groaned in protest as I did. “I'm not leaving.” I assured him. He had been there for me, the least I could do was be there for him. I reached up to grasp the arm around my shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “if you need anything just ask.” The man was quiet for a long few moments, and I shifted under his arm nervously when he didn't respond. The silence stretched on, and I turned to try to check his face with my other hand.

The movement was enough to topple him onto me. Down we went, his face bouncing against my collar as his arm got pinned beneath me, with him half-slumped on top of me. There was an unsteady breathing, rattling - and then I realized it wasn't unsteady, but rhythmic in a labored way. Tristain had passed out. On me.

“uh… Uh-Uhm… I'd… Yo-You… Oh-Oh… “

There was little I could do. He was a stocky man. If I pushed hard enough I was sure i could send him toppling to the floor but that would injure him more. How was I supposed to handle this situation?

I let him lay there for a few minutes as I collected my thoughts. It… wasn't that bad. If anything it was comforting. I knew it wasn't intentional but having the gentle weight of another against me was relaxing. I closed my eyes and nestled my face into the crook of his neck.

Was what I was doing wrong? Taking advantage of the situation? Seeking warmth and comfort from a man who wasn't even conscious? The arm around me tightened, and Tristain let out an odd noise that it took me time to realize was content as he shifted, his body slightly straightening out.

“It’s OK… “ I awkwardly mumbled as a hand fell into his hair, gently running through the short tousled strands. “ I'm here.”

I hadn't realized how tired I was myself. Today had been an ordeal. More so for him… and I felt guilty for thinking that I was exhausted. My eyelids felt heavy and I struggled to keep them open.

My movements slowly stilled as I began to fall asleep.