He heads back into the room and stops at the end of the bed. The doctor and Martha are still taking readings, but they flash us encouraging smiles when I stand next to Elethior.
The bookshelf is behind us. All the photos are of a younger Elethior with his mom—her arms around him as they smile at the camera, both of them covered in what’s probably flour and laughing in a kitchen; a selfie where they’re wearing hiking gear. Her eyes are bright and clear, and his are, too.
There’s no one else in any of the pictures.
Elethior clears his throat and I whip around. He’s looking at his mom, not at me, didn’t even notice I’d snooped on his photos.
“Mom,” he says, his voice thick. “This is Sebastian Walsh. The lab partner I was telling you about. He—”
“You were telling your mom about me?”
His eyes roll up to the ceiling as a smile bursts across my face.
“Complainedto her about you, more like.” He arcs his eyes around to me. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.” My grin, though, is speaking volumes.
Martha suppresses a chuckle.
After a heavy, put-upon sigh, Elethior waves at the bed. “Sebastian, this is my mom. Dr. Rebecca Holmes.”
Holmes. Not Tourael.
“And Martha.” Elethior waves at the nurse, then the doctor. “Dr. Chrosk.”
I smile at them before looking at the woman on the bed, still sleeping.
“Hi, Dr. Holmes,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Martha coos but covers it by clapping her hands. “I’ll have Nithroel get you boys some tea, yes? Take a seat, we won’t be long finishing up with her now.”
She scurries out of the room to Dr. Chrosk’s amused headshake.
Elethior obediently sinks down onto the couch, one arm spread across the back, the other propped on the armrest and cradling his jaw.
I sit on the edge of the couch and have to physically restrain myself from bouncing my knee. “Once they’re done with her, I’m going to set the record straight, just so you know.”
He tips his head.
“Whatever lies you’ve told your mom about me,” I explain. “I’m going to tell her the truth. Can’t have her thinking I’m as terrible as you’ve no doubt said.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a stunned smile light Elethior’s mouth. He watches me in silence, that watching turning to studying the longer it stretches, studying turning to unspoken words I don’t want, can’t handle.
My heart hums, making it hard to get a full breath, so I lean back against the couch and nudge my shoulder where his hand’s nearly resting on my neck.
“Contain your manspreading, Elethior,” I grumble.
A pause.
Then he chuckles and lowers his hand into his lap.
When Monday rolls around, Elethior and I work in silence as thick as it was when we were actively ignoring each other. Only now, it’s sluggish from an added strain of politeness.
It’s all from me. Elethior’s matching me, and what I’m forcing up are mile-high walls.
Days pass, and there are no more pranks. No more jokes.
I ask how his mom’s doing; he tells me she hasn’t had any more seizures but doesn’t elaborate, and I nod and get back to work.
