I have a tendency to take things very literally.”
“I see,” Leon said, more than a little uncertain if there was any socially acceptable reply to a phrase like that. There was also a slightly more certain feeling that he was being flirted with.
“Anyway, medically there are studies that suggest it’s good for coma patients to be talked to. Sometimes they can hear you even if they can’t respond, and some say it registers in their subconscious even if they can’t consciously hear you.”
“Okay,” Leon said. “That’s… good to know.”
“So… you’re a friend?” the other man asked after a moment of awkward silence.
“Me? Oh no…. We don’t really know each other at all.”
“Right… right.” The nurse’s eyebrows rose. “Sorry, I just assumed that—”
“I wanted to thank him for what he did,” Leon said. “He didn’t have to, and it meant—means a lot to me. I know, I know. It’s stupid and a little creepy and—”
“Actually, I think it’s kind of sweet.” Yep, there was definitely flirting happening. “And it’s good that you came. He doesn’t get many visitors.”
“I noticed,” Leon said, his eyes drifting back to the tiny stack of cards and the wilted flowers. “I’m Leon, by the way.”
“Warrick,” the big man said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Leon.”
“You too,” Leon replied, grasping the other man’s hand.
For a moment hazel eyes locked unflinchingly with brown, and Leon found it hard to breathe. Then the alarm on his phone went off, startling them both.
“S-sorry,” Leon said. “I gotta motor—class.”
“Of course. See you later?”
“Um… maybe,” Leon said, his cheeks flushing slightly as he darted from the room.
“S O ?” Krissy asked as she flipped open her laptop in the little corner of the Student Association building that she and Leon had claimed as their own, sandwiched between the vending machines and the repainted orange wall that still bore the marks of the graffiti tag from last semester.
“So what?” Leon asked, shrugging his backpack off his right shoulder, slumping into the worn black couch cushions, and pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie.
Krissy sighed and rolled her eyes, the movement seemingly exaggerated by her mascara and eyeliner. She was dressed in bright colors, with a frilly blue cardigan over a white T-shirt, and her blonde hair was streaked with pink to match the thick frames of her glasses. “So how’d your trip to the hospital go?” she asked, her rainbow bracelets of the day clicking together along her wrists as she tapped away on her keyboard.
“It was okay,” Leon said. “Hot guy, you know?”
“Leon, he’s straight! And wasn’t he in a coma with serious injuries?”
“What? No, not Rook! The nurse.”
“Oh, that’s completely different then,” Krissy said. “What’s his name, and did you ask him out?”
“Warrick, and no,” Leon said, ducking his head and rummaging through his bag for his macroeconomic textbooks.
“Why not?”
“Did I mention he was built like a rugby player?” Leon asked. “Besides, you know I don’t ask guys out—and definitely not the really hot ones.”
Krissy blew a raspberry at him over the screen of her laptop. “That’s not an answer.”
“Guys like him don’t go for guys like me,” Leon said. “Not really,” he added, as he remembered the feel of Warrick’s hand gripping his own.
“Chickadee, guys go for whoever guys go for. I’ve told you about my ex, haven’t I? The one who dumped me when I lost weight?”
“No?”
“Sorry,” she said. “He liked his women large. Extra large. Extra, extra, extra large. He said I was too skinny for him.”
“And how thin were you then?” Leon asked, eyeing Krissy’s curves critically.
“About ten kilos heavier than I am now, thank you very much,” she replied, her eyes narrowing warningly.
“Okay, weird, I’ll accept that. That doesn’t mean I should ask
“I see,” Leon said, more than a little uncertain if there was any socially acceptable reply to a phrase like that. There was also a slightly more certain feeling that he was being flirted with.
“Anyway, medically there are studies that suggest it’s good for coma patients to be talked to. Sometimes they can hear you even if they can’t respond, and some say it registers in their subconscious even if they can’t consciously hear you.”
“Okay,” Leon said. “That’s… good to know.”
“So… you’re a friend?” the other man asked after a moment of awkward silence.
“Me? Oh no…. We don’t really know each other at all.”
“Right… right.” The nurse’s eyebrows rose. “Sorry, I just assumed that—”
“I wanted to thank him for what he did,” Leon said. “He didn’t have to, and it meant—means a lot to me. I know, I know. It’s stupid and a little creepy and—”
“Actually, I think it’s kind of sweet.” Yep, there was definitely flirting happening. “And it’s good that you came. He doesn’t get many visitors.”
“I noticed,” Leon said, his eyes drifting back to the tiny stack of cards and the wilted flowers. “I’m Leon, by the way.”
“Warrick,” the big man said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Leon.”
“You too,” Leon replied, grasping the other man’s hand.
For a moment hazel eyes locked unflinchingly with brown, and Leon found it hard to breathe. Then the alarm on his phone went off, startling them both.
“S-sorry,” Leon said. “I gotta motor—class.”
“Of course. See you later?”
“Um… maybe,” Leon said, his cheeks flushing slightly as he darted from the room.
“S O ?” Krissy asked as she flipped open her laptop in the little corner of the Student Association building that she and Leon had claimed as their own, sandwiched between the vending machines and the repainted orange wall that still bore the marks of the graffiti tag from last semester.
“So what?” Leon asked, shrugging his backpack off his right shoulder, slumping into the worn black couch cushions, and pushing up the sleeves of his hoodie.
Krissy sighed and rolled her eyes, the movement seemingly exaggerated by her mascara and eyeliner. She was dressed in bright colors, with a frilly blue cardigan over a white T-shirt, and her blonde hair was streaked with pink to match the thick frames of her glasses. “So how’d your trip to the hospital go?” she asked, her rainbow bracelets of the day clicking together along her wrists as she tapped away on her keyboard.
“It was okay,” Leon said. “Hot guy, you know?”
“Leon, he’s straight! And wasn’t he in a coma with serious injuries?”
“What? No, not Rook! The nurse.”
“Oh, that’s completely different then,” Krissy said. “What’s his name, and did you ask him out?”
“Warrick, and no,” Leon said, ducking his head and rummaging through his bag for his macroeconomic textbooks.
“Why not?”
“Did I mention he was built like a rugby player?” Leon asked. “Besides, you know I don’t ask guys out—and definitely not the really hot ones.”
Krissy blew a raspberry at him over the screen of her laptop. “That’s not an answer.”
“Guys like him don’t go for guys like me,” Leon said. “Not really,” he added, as he remembered the feel of Warrick’s hand gripping his own.
“Chickadee, guys go for whoever guys go for. I’ve told you about my ex, haven’t I? The one who dumped me when I lost weight?”
“No?”
“Sorry,” she said. “He liked his women large. Extra large. Extra, extra, extra large. He said I was too skinny for him.”
“And how thin were you then?” Leon asked, eyeing Krissy’s curves critically.
“About ten kilos heavier than I am now, thank you very much,” she replied, her eyes narrowing warningly.
“Okay, weird, I’ll accept that. That doesn’t mean I should ask
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