Sollicitude - Chapter 7: Remember to Breathe
From the Inside Masterpage
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Summary: It's hard being the surrogate dad to your workaholic, easily anxious workmate. and friend, all the while you can finally go back to being a dad
Notes: You know, I thought I was really going to write a fluffy Florian chapter, to make up for all the angst from the previous two chapters. Never mind, that chapter is filled to the brim with Frangst. It's still a Florian chapter tho, don't get mistaken.
AO3 version available here.
The pneumonia had finally been beaten. I was able to breathe normally again, and the first thing I did once I was out of bed, fever gone and cough nowhere to be seen was to cough again… Annabelle told me not to overdo it as soon as I was out of illness: officially, I was still on bedrest for one or two days, and my lungs were still exhausted. My breathing was… weak, at best. I still coughed, albeit it was dry, whenever I exerted too much, even if it was at little extent.
The biggest worry we both had was the injury I had sustained in late 2015. It had been closed for a while, and I had been breathing more or less normally for a year, but even I was afraid it would make things even worse on top of my exhaustion. The hole may had made it a tiny bit harder: I, frankly, wouldn’t know the difference with “regular” pneumonia-induced dyspnoea.
I disobeyed bedrest as soon as I could get up. While I was actively ill, I controlled myself out of it, mostly for her sake (she was less worried if I was in a safe place, right?), not anymore. Thinking of Annabelle helped me endeavour the loneliness coming from the illness. I was thankful for her to catch me up on our son too, since I was explicitly forbidden from going near him.
How would I even describe hearing Olivier crying during that week? It was an atrocious experience to go through. I heard him scream for help, but I couldn’t do anything, to the point we had to hire a babysitter just because I was unable to do anything. What if he had a nightmare? What if he really needed someone, and she was away, and I was just there? I was terrified every time I heard even the smallest of whimpers, and every time Annabelle kept telling me it would be all right. Primal instincts.
She told me the first thing I had done after finally being able to get up was to go into his room and check up on him, too bad, the baby was asleep. I had passed out there, dozing over the crib, the mix between my snores (apparently, I still snored noisily even out of my illness) and his giggles amusing her. At least it relieved her, right?
This meant I could finally come back actively into a sphere I had tended to be away for: Chromas. The khâgne class. Sure, I had read and replied to Justine’s emails all along, but I merely skimmed through them most of the time, only picking select clues. All I knew was that she tremendously worried for François, that it kept getting worse and that François really didn’t know how to take care of himself.
I hadn’t really read his messages either: the first ones being a constant reminder that I needed to rest, right during the times I had fever spikes and coughed blood all over myself in an attempt to find a comfortable position, I had given up on these quickly. I should not had done so, and opening my phone for the first time seriously in days was almost as horrifying as hearing my baby son cry all alone.
Most messages I had gotten from François were actually not directed towards me. I guess my first name came right after someone important to him, because I clearly wasn’t his “sis”. If I had to guess, shoot in the dark, I would have said it was his older sister, not his younger one. If I recalled correctly, the guys had told me his older sister was looking for him, somewhat, or at least had troubles coming in contact with him. It seemed obvious to me she was worried, and he was just pretending to be fine.
How would I know he was pretending? Why was I so sure of it? It seemed like I had read Justine’s mails more than I thought I had, mails that stuck to my mind with how worrying they turned out to be. Some repetitions I could excuse on spam and mobile problems, some were just about François being so forgetful he would just repeat the same thing, twice, thrice, four, five, maybe six times towards the weekend. He wasn’t doing as well as he pretended to, that was for certain, but did that surprise anyone? I was, sadly, not that impressed.
François was, undeniably, a bad liar. His façade matched him because he was one of the sweetest persons I had ever met, but that was its limit. François was, at his core, a very earnest man: he couldn’t lie to the end, and somewhere in the middle of lying through his teeth, he would just end up slipping up and let his true feelings show their darker side. The only moments he would ever confess to feeling any less than “good, don’t worry for me” were when he would be too ill to hold back his tears.
His brand of deception was soft, if not sweet. As if he was trying to lie to himself before tricking us into thinking he was all good. Maybe, through this, he just wanted to see if someone cared for him. Through his text messages, I could see he insisted on his family to know he loved them. Maybe he wanted to get in return the confirmation they loved him too. Sadly, these messages would never reach them.
The shallow waters of his condition made it so they landed, damaged, to my shores. My burning then freezing shores.
“Sis? I dunno how I feel about the sub thing. I’m not doing so hot already…”
“I wonder if I’m coming down with something”
“A student told me I looked like shit, somewhat. I guess she’s right, she wouldn’t lie to me”
“Her name’s Justine, I think. She’s honest, maybe too much, but that’s what Théo kept telling me”
“You think he’s angry at me? I’m sure Justine keeps telling him stuff I won’t tell him.”
“Justine’s nice, I guess, she’s just too honest, probably”
“He needs to rest and not worry for me, you don’t think? Doesn’t deserve to be bothered with my self-care habits”
“Why don’t you reply? You’re busy, right? I’m sorry…”
“They used to tell me I was that annoying next-door boy, guess I’m that”
“Yeah, you’re busy, and I guess I have time to kill with that headache of mine; that sucks so bad”
“Florian, how you’re doing? Hope everything’s good on your side”
“How are the kids? Can you say them hello from their uncle?”
“I shouldn’t bother you when you’re so close to due”
“Pneumonia sucks, right? I’m sure you can pull thru it anyway!”
“Florian somehow knows about Edith, I’m horrified… That can’t be happening”
“Sis?”
“Sis, I love you”
“I feel like I’m sending these messages in the void”
Then I received a message, straight onto my phone.
“Wait, that’s Florian! I’m sorry! These were meant for my sister, not you! Ah, sorry, that’s awkward…”
“Why, hello, François. I did guess these weren’t for me, in case you doubted the fact you never call me “sis” aside from that mess.”
“Haha… Oh, right, how you’re doing? Heard you were finally off bedrest”
“That’s exact. I’m even surprised you remembered this, considering your mind seems to be elsewhere altogether.”
“I would have said what Justine often tells me, that she always remembers the wrong stuff, but I wouldn’t call that wrong stuff”
“I appreciate you caring for me, but shouldn’t you rest, if you have time to text me? This seems pretty counter-productive of you.”
“Guess you heard of my shitty work habits, huh…. That’s funny, I can’t focus on anything today. Maybe I should go to bed”
“François... How long have you slept last night?”
“Can’t remember. Think I didn’t, actually”
I think flames just ignited inside of me. I pressed “Call” on my phone’s screen, running out of Olivier’s bedroom to join my workspace.
“W-why the sudden call?!” he yelled from the other side of the line.
“François, what the hell are you doing?! Are pulling all-nighters now?!”
“I-I just not sleep! Not that easy, y’know!”
“You can’t even speak proper French anymore, François. You have to head to bed now, or you’ll be ruined for days to come. If not for me, if not for you, think of the students. They need you to be up and running.”
“That’s true, but… But I can’t stop, for some stupid reason! Florian, I’m going insane! It’s like that shit’s a drug!”
“Calm down, please calm down… Just listen to me for a while, ok? I promise you’ll be all right.”
“You can talk! Do I have to remind you you’re the one whose fault it is?!”
A knot formed inside my throat. He… wasn’t wrong. I was the reason why this had all started in the first place. My carelessness was the reason everything had gone so bad for him and for them. I couldn’t really blame him for getting upset and suddenly letting everything out, but at the same time, I was so taken aback I didn’t know what to tell him.
“I…”
“I’ll tell you the same I told Justine. I don’t want your excuses: I don’t need them. They’re not helping anything. The difference is that Justine didn’t throw me into that mess. By the way… Have you even replied to her, at all? She implied you gave her generic answers as if you didn’t give a shit.”
“No, that’s not it! I…” my voice already felt tired. “I skimmed through them and just wanted to tell her I was grateful for her to send me information… Something you wouldn’t do, shall I add.”
“Oh, don’t give me that crap! Don’t blame on me your mistakes! Do I sound like I’m doing that?!”
“You do, François… You’re blaming on my workaholic habits your own workaholism.”
I just heard something like a gasp from the other side of the phone. My acting skills were better than I had thought, if I had managed to make it sound like I wasn’t actively blaming myself for his awful condition.
“Listen, I’m certain you’re beyond angry at me, and I understand your frustration. This doesn’t mean you should close in on yourself. You already sound exhausted, I can’t help but worry for you. So, let me ask you this: how are things going?”
“Fine,” he insists with a trembling voice.
“François, don’t be a child, please. I know things aren’t ‘fine’.”
Silence, then some faint whimpers arrived in my ear. I felt a heartstring shake violently.
“Florian, I… I’m sorry, I’m doing everything wrong lately… I can’t focus, I’m snapping at everyone, my students worry for me when it should be the other way around… I’m so overwhelmed, I don’t know what I can even do anymore to make it all fine! I can’t already be reaching my limits! I… I…”
“François…”
“I… I don’t want to… I don’t want to disappoint anyone… You need to… To rest… Why…Why…”
“François!” I took a sharper tone.
“Why am I like that…?! I… I got to be strong, for you… for them… for everyone…!” he coughed, he gasped, “y’all trusting me… I can’t… I can’t disappoint anyone today… I… I don’t care if… if it means…”
“For the love of God, François, would you listen to me?!”
He stopped, completely, but as I thought, he was still heavily wheezing.
“Wh…”
“Don’t speak. Hang up. You need to rest.”
“I… I know that…”
“Stop speaking! You triggered your asthma, isn’t that enough for you to know you’re panicking? You’re too anxious at the moment, you need to let go for a day. It’s Saturday, why not enjoy a nice, calm evening?”
“…I saw Justine earlier today.”
Now that was surprising.
“So you did go outside!” I reacted, a bit relieved for his sanity. “I’m surprised she was in Arras for the weekend.”
“Yeah, same… I didn’t see her at the beginning, but she was there, browsing for stuff with a first-year student… Then we went to a café and discussed some stuff…”
“That’s right, I think she sent me something about it. You really need to focus on yourself, François. You can’t always worry for others when you’re yourself in a dire need for care.”
“That’s more or less what she told me… I guess you’re both right. Haha… Guess it’s never too late to learn, right?”
“Happy birthday, François.”
A soft laugh escaped from his phone.
“Heh… Thank you, Florian. Didn’t think you would remember it.”
“Just a reminder you still have decades in front of you, would you truly care for your mind and body. Don’t rush it too badly.”
“What was that horse proverb you say from time to time already? Yeah, that.”
I chuckled. “I’m glad to hear you still have enough memory to remember my proverbs, albeit vaguely. I’ll have to leave you, my son’s calling for me and I think you deserve a good night of rest.”
“Florian, it’s seven in the evening.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not dead tired already.”
“You’re not wrong. See ya soon!”
With a small smile, I pressed the “End Call” button on my screen and put the phone away in my pants’ pocket.
Going back to Olivier’s crib, I hold him in my arms again, still thinking of how my workmate was doing. Maybe I was trying to calm him down mindlessly, because all I got in return were cries. Lesson learnt again: when taking care of a child, entirely focus on the child, otherwise it won’t work, and your ears may bleed from the screams. I nailed it as soon as I devoted all my thought process to Olivier, so this wouldn’t happen again.
In a part of my mind, I wondered if it wasn’t better for me to be the father and not the mother. I didn’t have the wrong constitution for it, after all. However, I saw in François all I was doing wrong with my own body: sleep deprivation, overwork, insist even when I knew I was reaching my weak points. The hole in my chest was his asthma.
And the least I thought about that part of me, the better I was doing.
I still felt tired, and I could see Annabelle insist on me dropping our son back to his bed so I could join back ours. I delicately put him back in, and made my way to our room after making sure he was asleep.
“I heard you yell on the phone. Were you calling François?” she asked as I lay down.
“How do you know? I’m usually not that aggressive.”
“You sounded more worried than angry, darling. You never truly sound angry.”
“Do I? I always sound better than I actually am when I hear you speak about me, you know, Annie.”
“You will never trick me into thinking you could be mean on purpose or get out of control. You cannot be harsh, even if I am certain you are beyond worried for this poor boy.”
“I guess you’re right…”
Later in the evening, as I was half-asleep, I felt a hand gently touch my shoulder and put the blanket on me correctly.
“You got so worked up for François, you forgot to sleep. May you never change, Florian.”