rileyxanderson:
Ah yes, now Riley is reminded of why he associates Eros with a buzzing fruit fly. He doesn’t know how to leave well enough alone. He doesn’t believe him that he’s fine (abiet, it’s not very convincing) and then goes a step further to touch his ribs.
His body seizes up and he coils over in pain, a sharp hiss leaving his lips and he doesn’t know whether he wants to cry or punch Eros in the face. He settles with a glare, holding himself like injured prey, worried something is going to touch him again.
You helped me. You’ve been helping me
He knows Eros is right, hates admitting it. He’s not sure what else he can do though. He’s got him backed into a corner and at this rate he’s not going to be able to work let alone stand up straight. He has to let Eros help him regardless if he wants it or not.
He lets his eyes close for a moment and lets out a very slow breath through his nose.
“Fine,” He snaps, mostly from pain and not because he’s angry. “Just. Fine.” The nickname of Riles is too sweet on the other’s tongue and he knows he should do everything in his power to pull away from it.
But he can’t. Not this time.
“You’re going to need to help me since you keep poking at my ribs.”
Eros does. Eros helps him upstairs and slowly sits down on the couch, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his pants. “Alright you can go.”
It takes Eros purposefully hurting Riley to admit that he does need help. “Sorry,” He apologises with a little half-smile in hopes it’ll make up for it. He’s persistent, yes but, Eros has to be persistent to get where he wants to in life. Plus, he’d be worried all night if Riley was just propped against the bar or grimacing when people brushed past him, and Eros couldn’t do anything about it. “That’s what I’m here for,”
Eros takes most of Riley’s weight as they slowly make their way up to the familiar office, with its plush interior. They always seem to end up here, one way or another. It’s becoming a re-occurring place for the both of them, and Eros isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or not. This is where all their emotional trysts happen. This is where they first had sex, and this is where Riley let him sleep in his lap, and now it's where Eros will come after his set to make sure he’s okay.
Gently, he lowers him onto the couch and lingers behind a little awkwardly as Riley begins to shed his shirt. Eros catches sight of his ribs and worry works its way across his brow. Ribcages don’t look that...bumpy, do they? They’re sore too, and tomorrow probably black and blue. He can go but he doesn’t want to.
“Will you...stay up here?” Eros asks. “I mean - after I’m done, I’ll come to see you? To make sure you can get home okay. I don’t mind giving you a lift, I’m not drinking tonight so I brought my car,” It’s an open suggestion. “I’ll tell Kenny to ring that doctor of yours, and I’ll come up during my half an hour break. Don’t - don’t pass out, yeah?”
There’s a worry one of the bones could have punctured a lung. What if Riley drowns in his own blood while he’s belting out Rocket Man? Eros doesn’t want to think about that. Instead, he gives him a quick, almost motherly kiss on the forehead before going back downstairs. The guests are slowly being allowed in V.I.Ps first. The singer checks in with the bar staff and tells Kenny to ring the doctor before rushing off backstage.
He doesn’t have time to do his proper vocal exercises. Eros hopes he’ll be okay.
