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Technophile

it had started on a whim. The opportunity arose, and Zeke took advantage of it. Now it was happening more and more, not exactly training but certainly the argument could be made for positive reinforcement.

The Mist had been stretched out on Ever's bed with a book on his knee, and his glasses slipped so far down his nose they weren't doing a damn bit of good. Not research this time, or at least nothing to do with Deus or Halloween. He glanced up from it as he heard the steady tap tap of the laptop keyboard. Not as rhythmic as his own typing, but a marked improvement from where it had been when they'd brought the computer back from Denver.

"Anything good being discussed?" He asked with an easy grin.

Technophile

"No. Never." When Ever went on Twitter, he either fell into one of two moods: bemused laughter or a knot between his eyebrows deep enough to leave an ache in its place. Today, definitely, it was the latter -- enough to put a hint of disgust into his voice. It wasn't just at everyone else, though. In large part, it was disgust for himself for getting hip-deep in it all.

"I need a cigarette." He closed the computer with a pointed finality and decided to smoke it outside.

Double Barrel

This, at least, was an easy kind of interaction: both of them mussed and tangled in the sheets, Ever distractedly sucking nicotine into his system. It was not the best way to catch his breath, but that hardly mattered. In this moment, it was the only thing in the world he needed.

He drew in a long, slow breath and blinked up at Zeke, both pale brows raised questioningly before understanding clicked in -- and he tipped his chin up, slowly, lips parted so the smoke drifted lazily upward, a silent offering.

Distance

It went unnoticed, at first. Zeke had been working long hours in the infirmary, and those hours were usually counter to a normal sleep schedule. It meant his contact with people in general(hospital staff excluded, he saw way too much of them) was fairly limited, and that included Ever.

It was easy enough to excuse the lack of texts as missed, or forgotten, or simply disregarded, because none of these were all that unusual. The forgotten lock, again, was not terribly unreasonable, especially considering how late the requests could sometimes be come in.

Things seemed relatively normal, if not exactly ideal.

As this continued though, and the visits became fewer,farther between, it was harder not to notice. Zeke, for his part, maintained his usual stance when things became weird. He didn't push, he didn't question. He let Ever do as he pleased, when he pleased, and enjoyed what time they did find to abandon thought between the sheets.

Mealtimes

And mostly, now, Ever was back to normal, terror inducing dreams of his innards dribbling away faded to an occasional thing, not an every night kind of thing. It meant that he was eating again, and eating [more or less] normally: disinterested but completely, picking and choosing things that were mostly bland but at least healthy, chewing and swallowing and keeping it down, and maybe it was a bit depressing that this was an improvement. Not to him, at least. He was fine with the status quo.

Except that every now and then he simply couldn't summon the energy or the interest to find something worth eating. On those days, it became a simple game. I'll take this back to my room, where he'd pick out the pieces that interested him and easily leave the rest behind.

It wasn't that hard to foist a lot of it off on Zeke. After all, their meetings were late, now, not social. There was no way he'd know that Ever had only eaten bits and pieces. Breathless and content and likely a bit hungry, maybe Zeke would be willing to devour dinner's leftovers on the assumption that there had been more...

Distance

He didn't tell Zeke before he left. Maybe it was an accident, but definitely it was a bit cruel: not so much as a text to state that he'd be off the island for not-sure-how long. Instead, one day, he was simply gone. Sure, they weren't an every day thing, now, but there wouldn't even be that glimpse in the hall, or Ever showing up at the end of Zeke's shift to nudge him back into a closet somewhere. There wouldn't be a cracked door that meant he was working on something.

Just poof. Who knew?

Mealtimes

Zeke was perfectly content to make the leftovers disappear on these occasions, but he wasn't so unobservant as to not realize Ever wasn't eating as much as he probably should be, at least for these specific meals. Something that would have been more concerning if he didn't know the lines of Ever's body, and hadn't noticed the too-skinny cut of slender hips filling out just a touch as the weeks wore on.

Ever had never been very enthusiastic at mealtimes before his run in with the horsewoman that had nearly killed him, and Zeke didn't expect any sort of miraculous turn around after the fact. He picked at his food, pushed it around his plate, ate until he wasn't hungry, but not with any sort of vigor. Sometimes he'd even forget meals altogether.

This wasn't new.

So Zeke ate the leftovers, and he didn't say anything about the portion size, didn't give the Lifer any grief what so ever. Completely accommodating as of late.