Geralt had offered Eskel to sleep in his bed and he'd take the couch. Eskel and him had their usual back-and-forth about who slept where, since both of them were technically to tall to fit on that couch. Also, Eskel didn't like the feeling of the cold well worn leather and how it just stuck to him when he sweated at night. Geralt knew that, and that's why he offered to sleep on the couch instead, but Eskel's kind character didn't allow him to accept a night in that very nice luxury king size bed. Eskel wasn't sure if it was appropriate, but right now he was so lost and tired and sad, that he needed something, or someone, breathing beside him. Someone whose breath didn't smell like fish, like Roach.
He stood in Geralt's bedroom, just dressed in his briefs because he didn't bring something new to wear. How could he, though? He fled from his own boyfriend, of course he didn't have fresh clothes or a pyjama with him. Going to work tomorrow would be his first walk of shame for all the wrong reasons, but at least the feeling of shame was correct.
"Thank you," he mumbled and blushed as he successfully avoided Geralt's gaze.
"Don't be silly, Eskel. Come. But you know, I'm a kicker. If you wake up with a black eye, that's on you and you'll explain Bolvirk how you got it."
Geralt snorted. "If Roach was a horse and kicked you in the face, he might believe that."
Eskel crawled in bed beside Geralt and rolled on his side, facing the wall. He couldn't fall asleep facing someone. It didn't even work with Bolvirk.
"Fuck," Eskel groaned and felt a new wave of tears.
He heard Geralt shuffle beside him, but instead of a full on body contact hug he just scratched Eskel's back. It was so endlessly soothing, someone Eskel asked Bolvirk to do it when he came back upset from work and needed to calm down.
Bolvirk was all alone now, he didn't have someone to scratch his back, or hug him, kiss him goodnight.
He couldn't catch much of sleep, he knew it. Geralt's presence would help him, but he wouldn't be able to sleep much.
"Esk, don't you think you should, uh, call in sick tomorrow?", Geralt asked in the darkness of the room.
Eskel nodded, then remembered that Geralt wouldn't see it.
"Yeah. I should. I haven't used any of my strikes, I think calling in sick is a good idea."
He took his phone and checked the time. It was past midnight already and he'd have to be at work around 8am. From Geralt's place, he'd take at least 50 minutes to work and Eskel saw how he'd arrive, looking all pathetic, maybe having a crying fit in front of his cruel boss. Nah. He didn't need that. He'd use one of his three strikes he had per year. Last year, he didn't use any. He always showed up at work and still he was treated like shit. One strike would be a maximum of three days sick in a row. Everything past three days up to a week was two strikes. He would call in sick for two days.
He sent it as an email and he'd call in at the early shift right at 8am, too, to make sure everyone got the note.
He cried a bit for a couple of minutes and knew he was also gifting Geralt a night with little sleep. But Geralt kept mumbling it was okay. Eskel read Bolvirk's last text again and again. Was he ready to go home?
To him, it wasn't about being "ready" to go home, even though it was comforting that Geralt tried and scratched his back and hugged him when he cried, but Eskel needed Bolvirk. He needed to tell him the truth about it. He couldn't keep lying about it. He's just made the worst mistake with this. Bolvirk was so soft, he'd think it was his fault that Eskel hid something from him.
In a haze of a silent crying fit while Geralt passed out around 1am, Eskel texted Bolvirk again.
» I don't want to leave you. Do you want to leave me? «
The words gave him another wave of panic, and after he pressed 'send' he regretted asking that. The crying thankfully exhausted him so much that he passed out just a few minutes after sending that text.
•·················•·················•
He didn't dare to check his phone. He didn't even check the time, because he was too anxious to receive a text from Bolvirk and that he would want to break up with him. And Eskel wouldn't even be surprised if he did. Bolvirk deserved someone someone honest. And he still thought that Eskel cheated. How could he even touch Eskel ever again when he...when he had to assume Eskel slept with someone else?
Geralt tried to make him check the phone couple of times but gave up after Eskel even called in at work via landline.
Eskel's boss was being unnecessarily mean, of course she was. She's always been like that. He received his first strike and then she just hung up on him without saying goodbye.
Geralt made coffee and since he was freelancer, he stayed with Eskel who got antsy, and kept on trying to find a way out of this situation that was harsh on him.
It wasn't about being 'ready' to come home. Eskel wouldn't be, but he had to get back home. Being without Bolvirk made him feel lost and only half the man he was. He missed their bed, their couch, the tiny bathroom. Even though Geralt's place was almost insultingly fancy.
After a very short breakfast of croissants and café au lait, Eskel looked at Geralt.
"I know that look in your face, Eskel. Don't puppy eye me. Not fair!"
Eskel's puppy eyes intensified.
"Would you drive me home? I need to go back."
Geralt smiled. "I actually counted on that. Can't be without him."
Of course Eskel couldn't.
•·················•·················•
Eskel was very sure, actually, that Bolvirk wouldn't be home when he climbed the stairs to his apartment again, Geralt right behind him, as his moral support. Eskel didn't know how he would need moral support when Bolvirk was at work, but...the idea of meeting him, waiting for him in the apartment all alone, was scary.
"I'll wait with you," Geralt had announced. "Can't have you run away again."
So. They'd wait for Bolvirk together. Eskel would maybe clean or try to distract himself with a video game. But Geralt was just the best friend under the sun, giving Eskel the bravery and the backbone to stay and tell Bolvirk the truth.
Nevertheless, Eskel's heart was racing, he was sweating, when he opened the door to his and Bolvirk's place. He sent a prayer to whoever was willing to listen that Bolvirk wasn't there. Just to pray a second later, please be here, I need a hug so bad right now.
The door opened with the familiar screech and Eskel stepped inside, Geralt behind him, a hand in the small of his back.
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