Before we continue, let us enjoy a few minutes to listen to the music of our breathing together.
Breathing in, I enjoy my in-breath.
Breathing out, I enjoy my out-breath.
Breathing in, my whole body is harmonized with the in-breath.
Breathing out, my whole body is calmed with the out-breath.
Breathing in, my whole body enjoys the peace of my in-breath.
Breathing out, my whole body enjoys the relaxation of my out-breath.
Breathing in, I enjoy the harmony of my in-breath.
Breathing in, I enjoy the harmony of my out-breath.
Fox closes the book and pushes it to the corner of his desk, clearing a space for his forearms and making himself comfortable leaning forward in his chair. Maybe it’s not the “correct” meditation pose, but his back can’t take the way Quinlan sits for his meditations, and it’s about relaxation, anyway. He can’t be relaxed if he’s uncomfortable, right? And surely it can’t hurt to break a little rule like that, not when he’s currently making up for breaking the big rule of working while he’s supposed to be in Quinlan’s apartment resting. His and Quinlan’s apartment. He needs to start thinking of it that way. He’s been living there almost two weeks now, ever since being discharged from the Healing Halls to finish his recovery as an outpatient.
He’s been doing nothing but resting for nearly two months now, and he’s going a little stir-crazy. His therapist has cleared him to do a little light work for the sake of his mental health, even if Healer Che and Hemlock don’t like it.
All he’s been doing is paperwork and answering emails. Not exactly strenuous, and now he’s taking a break after only an hour and a half of work, so he’s making improvements. Part of his ongoing therapy work, and something he’s still new to, is mindfulness. It should be simple, his therapist had said, to incorporate a few minutes of mindful breathing into his daily schedule. Just pause and breathe, she’d said. Follow the book’s lessons at your own pace and take a few minutes every day to be present in your body.
Right. Present in his own body. Fox closes his eyes.
Breathing in, I enjoy my in-breath. Breathe in.
Breathing out, I enjoy my out-breath. And out.
Breathing in, I enjoy my in-breath. Breathe in.
Breathing out, I enjoy my out-breath. And out.
Breathing in, I enjoy my in-breath. Breathe in.
Breathing out, I enjoy my out-breath. And… And out.
Breathing in, I enjoy my in-breath. Breathe in. Fox’s head and face are warm, so warm and heavy.
Breathing out, I enjoy my… I enjoy my out-breath.
Breathing in….
Enjoy…
In, out, Fox is going out, he’s…
Breathing in…
Breath--
“...okay, baby, you can sleep some more. Oh, you’re awake. Hi, Foxy.”
Fox wakes with Quinlan’s hands in his hair and Quinlan’s warmth along his shoulders and Quinlan’s cologne in his nose and Quinlan’s voice in his ears. He’s so tired he feels the exhaustion pressing him down through the floor, and it’s all he can manage to force his eyes open. Quinlan fills his vision, then, blurry with sleep and smiling softly. Blue light plays over his face. It’s dark, and Fox can hear the television playing in the background. Fox tries to speak, but later, memory will tell him what comes out is approximately, “Mwuh?”
Quinlan laughs. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep. You need it.”
Fox doesn’t bother arguing. He’s in their apartment, he’s warm, he’s so incredibly exhausted. He’s asleep again before he can figure out how he got there.
The next time he wakes, he’s stiff and thirsty and feverish like he’s been asleep for several hours. Everything in him wants to go back to sleep, to curl back up under the heavy blanket, everything except the part of him wondering how he ended up back in Quinlan’s apartment.
“I carried you,” Quinlan says from above him.
“Huh?”
“How you got to the apartment. I carried you from your office.”
Fox blinks up at Quinlan’s out-of-focus face. “Did I…”
“Not yet, but you’ve asked me the same question the last three times you’ve woken up,” Quinlan laughs. “You were exhausted, baby.”
Fox closes his eyes again and leans into Quinlan’s warm hand on his forehead. “Still am.”
“Yeah, you look it. You’re running a bit of a temperature, too.” Quinlan doesn’t chide him for pushing himself too hard, but Fox can tell he wants to. He’s grateful for the restraint. He tends to get weepy when he’s tired, and he hates for Quinlan to be disappointed in him.
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
“It’s okay. I get it. Believe me, I do.”
“...Time is it?”
“Almost 5. How about you sleep until dinner, and I’ll wake you up to eat?”
Fox hums. “Sounds good to me.”
Quinlan resumes playing with his hair, tracing circles on his scalp. “Love you, Foxy.”
“Love you, too.”