Drowning in Negotiation

Arthur and Fedlimid half-carried, half-dragged Aleks to his room, his weight pressing heavily against them with every unsteady step. His body was limp, exhaustion overtaking him, yet the pain that lanced through him kept his consciousness tethered to the present. By the time they reached his bed, Aleks let out a long, ragged groan as they eased him down onto the mattress.

"It's impossible to decide what hurts the most." He muttered hoarsely. His light blue eyes, dull with fatigue, flicked toward them, his breath coming in short, uneven exhales. "Back pain. Gods, my back, no, wait, my ribs. No, actually-"

"Pick one." Arthur cut in dryly, shaking his head as he pulled the blankets up over Aleks.

Aleks let out something between a groan and a chuckle before exhaling sharply. "Blood tastes like rust. Smells worse. Need a shower."

"Not happening." Fedlimid said, arms crossed. "You rest first. Then maybe."