Combeferre blinks and looks over at Enjolras
when he hears him speak, quiet for a moment
as he just looks, relieved it’s his friend who
was there to greet him and not one of them,
as he had been almost growing used to.“Like I’ve been trampled by a stampede,” his
voice is soft when he finally speaks, clearing
his throat with a cough after a moment before
he shifted to attempt to push himself up into a
sitting position. He stopped with a wince quickly,
pressing one hand to his chest for a moment
before he looks back over at Enjolras.“Is everyone okay?”
:: { ℑ⋅ℇ } ─ ─ ─ ::
It’s entirely expected but still manages to
make Enjolras choke back a laugh– or it is
disguised as one because he wants to sob,
he wants to fall into supposition for having
Combeferre back with him. Instead, Enjolras
reaches out for a glass, a hand holding onto
Combeferre lest he tries something like run.
“Here, drink this. Are you hungry?”
He drags his chair closer, sits back down
because Enjolras isn’t lying about the weak
knees. With a deep breath, he makes himself
let go of his best friend’s shoulder, only to
keep his hand on his arm, resting lightly.
"Nobody else is in a bed like you, there's
nothing to worry about. Should I call Joly?“