[That... sure can't be a comfortable position to sleep in, no. At the same time, he's not sure if he wants to wake Oswald up. If he fell asleep there, he must be tired. And...
And Edward still feels awful about what happened. Just terrible and awful and guilty and--
That just gets worse, as he leaves the bed and looks at Oswald. Bad enough he can feel the static forcing its way back into his vision, so... He swallows, fidgeting nervously a moment...
Before he just decides to get up properly, then. He still feels kind of shit physically, too, but he can manage. So he's off to the kitchen.
It's morning, after all. Might as well start making breakfast.]
[Oswald is waking up on his own a bit, later, wincing and making a pained noise as his back and hip protest. He sucks in a breath, trying to straighten--and opening his eyes to find an empty bed. At which point, his pulse immediately skyrockets and he's very much awake, stumbling out of that chair--which then proves to be perhaps not his best idea, as his leg and hip protest mightily, almost sending him to the floor. Oswald flails with a yelp as he almost goes down, just barely catches himself on the arm of the chair before he hits the ground, grunting a bit with a wheeze as said arm digs into his stomach.
He coughs a couple times as he rights himself, gripping the chair for a moment, before starting to limp his way towards the door, dragging his leg behind him]
--Edward? [he might sound...a little panicked. A lot panicked. oops?]
...that's good. [it is. It's an improvement. But there's still the elephant in the room that needs to be brought up. But maybe not just yet. Maybe not until after breakfast. He does have the whole day at home]
[. . . . and yep there goes the pit of his stomach, just dropping like that. Oswald swallows, hard, fingers curling into the countertop. He doesn't really have a response to that]
[Oswald can't help but swallow at that, hard. He wants to believe him. He does. But...there's still that niggling of down. Edward hadn't even known why it happened. He just...]
I was...I was thinking that, maybe, I should put you down as my emergency contact. Since, well.
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That position can't be entirely comfortable, though.]
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And Edward still feels awful about what happened. Just terrible and awful and guilty and--
That just gets worse, as he leaves the bed and looks at Oswald. Bad enough he can feel the static forcing its way back into his vision, so... He swallows, fidgeting nervously a moment...
Before he just decides to get up properly, then. He still feels kind of shit physically, too, but he can manage. So he's off to the kitchen.
It's morning, after all. Might as well start making breakfast.]
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He coughs a couple times as he rights himself, gripping the chair for a moment, before starting to limp his way towards the door, dragging his leg behind him]
--Edward? [he might sound...a little panicked. A lot panicked. oops?]
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Oswald? [Yeah, that's Edward alright.] Ah... sorry, I'm in the kitchen...
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Ah--yes. Of course. [everything is fine. He'll just...slowly make his way to the kitchen, moving to lean against the counter] Good morning.
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[Edward frowns, as he looks over his shoulder.]
...Sorry, I, um... I didn't know if I should wake you...
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...Ah, I'm making coffee, though. I'm guessing you'll need that, then.
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...I'm almost done with breakfast, too, so. It'll just be a sec.
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How are you feeling this morning?
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[Well.]
I'm feeling better. It doesn't really hurt much anymore...
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You should ice your eye again, after breakfast.
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[.........he just says these things like they're normal.]
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...Oswald?
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....I'm just glad you're alright.
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[Edward blinks. Not moving, though, or drawing back.]
Of course... I'm just fine.
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...I don't like the idea of you getting hurt, Edward.
[his voice is quiet, half-muffled by Edward's sleep shirt]
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...It's... alright. It won't... Um... It won't happen again.
I promise.
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I was...I was thinking that, maybe, I should put you down as my emergency contact. Since, well.
Since my parents aren't, any more.
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