Aqui! Aqui! #2
“I—” Watt tried, but air caught in his throat, his lungs.
He'd known, rationally, that his malnourished, beaten, and dehydrated body had endured an ordeal far greater than could occur in one day, two even.
But two weeks? He would've surely died. He blinked, overcome with visions of him curled up in a ball, sleeping in the mud.
Him, swiping blood away from his swollen and injured eye.
“No …” He reached up with a shaking hand and scratched at the still healing wound, expecting to find hot blood trickling down his cheek.
Cornelius pulled Watt close, and Watt was so far gone that he didn't notice the way the other man was wrought with pain, both in his ribs and heart.
They spent a long time like that, but Watt didn't forget a minute of it.
He had no idea what to say, how to explain what had happened, whether it was his own mind or as Cornelius had once said, the land was playing tricks on them, or something else entirely.
It terrified him to think he had lost so much time, let alone try to process it. And so, he cried.
He should've been ashamed of how much he'd cried during this trip, but Cornelius never made him feel bad for it, which allowed the tears to pass quicker than they would've otherwise.
No longer restrained or repressed to escape later when pressurized, but welcomed and washed away with comfort and kindness in due time.
Eventually, Watt pulled himself back together.
He would have plenty of late nights ahead of him, ample opportunity to explore the dark places of his mind where time should be.
Without lifting his head from Cornelius' thigh, for he had curled around it while Cornelius played with his hair, he asked, “Why did you leave?”
Cornelius sighed, tugging gently on the ends of Watt's knotted curls. It hadn't been this long since he was a kid. As Cornelius began to speak, Watt wondered what on earth he looked like. When was the last time he'd checked?
“I will be the first to admit what I did was stupid, especially now. But … I wanted to help, to find water. You were so exhausted, we were all thirsty, and it was the only way I could think of to help.”
“But we could have done that together,” Watt said, and a little of his buried frustration on the matter bled through. He'd already suspected that was why Cornelius had left, but he hadn't wanted to believe Cornelius was that reckless. “We're partners.”
“We're not equal partners,” Cornelius muttered, avoiding Watt's eye.
“You're not serious,” Watt said. “Cornelius, you are one of the most competent men I know, and I respect you greatly. You have proven yourself over time and time again, and I love you as are. Even when you're being a bull headed prick.”
Cornelius glared at him, but said nothing. Then his eyes widened, and his lips parted. “What'd you say?”
“That you're a bullheaded prick?”
“That you love me.”
Watt's heart skipped. “Well yes, I suppose I did. I … I thought it was rather obvious.”
“Oh.” Cornelius lifted his chin, and Watt obliged him with a tender, soft kiss.
Abruptly, he was struck by an idea and abandoned Cornelius and searched out his pack.
Cornelius watched, confused until Watt settled back down beside him, closer this time.
“I've been meaning to show you this.” He turned his sketchpad round to show off what he'd been working on.
Light pencil sketch work laid down the foundation of their endeavor at the top of the waterfall.
The perspective was of the sun, and the light work made the waterfall sparkle and their faces nearly too bright to see.
The island was stark with massive breadths of water on either side of it, spilling over the edge and down, down.
Not into the river Cornelius had dove into, but a cloud of murky water that spilled down onto the corner and the next page.
Cornelius reached to turn the page, then hesitated to capture the rest of the details, his finger hovering over where his eyes tracked.
Namely, Watt's vague figure on the side of the river with arms reaching, a blur of black and brown color that was Maggie careening down the cliff side, and the kaleidoscope of blue morphos with Cornelius at their center.
His expression was hard to read, but the posture of his body was calm, the dive perfect and confident like a kingfisher.
Cornelius was quiet for so long that Watt glanced at the painting, at him, then shut the sketchpad with an abashed expression.
He'd meant to show Cornelius how much that moment had meant to him, how breathtaking and brave Cornelius was.
Cornelius blinked a few times to clear his eyes and said, “It's beautiful, Watt.
I—I've never seen myself like that before. Do you think I could have it?”
Watt nodded quickly. “Yes, of course. I made it for you.”
“Oh, Watt.” Cornelius rubbed a hand over his face. “What's a fella to do when you're being so sweet?”
Watt grinned, and maybe puffed out his chest a little bit. “Heal. Get better.”
Cornelius laughed, but sobered only a few moments later. God, Watt hated that his smiles kept dissolving into worry. Cornelius said, “You need to get better too. We both do.”
“Yeah.” Watt swallowed, casting a look around outside their shelter.
“There doesn't seem to be anyone nearby, if there are locals they've been leaving us alone. Between the fish and the fruit, I think we can stay here for a little while. Try to regain our strength, build up our supplies, your bones can heal. Then what?”
Cornelius shrugged. Watt stared.
“What?” Cornelius asked, nonplussed.
“I—you—well. You're the plans man. I figured you had a plan.”
Cornelius laughed. He said, “Haven't you learned yet, Watt? Make plans and the laughs, God laughs, if you will. Let's just focus on making it through the next few days.”
“It's going to be at least a couple of weeks before you're up for heavy travel.” Watt hedged.
Cornelius sighed. “Let's eat, this is too much on an empty stomach.”
Watt's own stomach growled in agreement.
Cornelius insisted he could walk over to the fire pit on his own, and he did with Watt's help to stand and take the weight of his bad leg.
Cornelius lowered himself to the ground with a grunt, and Watt fretted the entire time.
He arranged their breakfast, and pride warmed his chest when Cornelius began to eat.
Watt sat beside him and did the same, albeit at a slower pace.
After a short time, Cornelius lifted a shoulder and took a bite of a particularly large jabuticaba globe. “Alright, couple of weeks then.”
He chewed slowly, and juice dribbled out of the corner of his lip.
He studied the inner white flesh, turning the purple skinned fruit this way and that.
A distant rumble caught both their attention, and introduced a nasty grey sky in the distance.
“You know,” Cornelius began dramatically.
“I'm willing to bet we're in the rainy season now.
So don't feel bad, I thought my adventure had only taken a couple weeks, not entire months.”
Watt gave him a long suffering look. “There's no way we lost that much time. We'd be dead.”
Cornelius waved a hand carelessly. “Maybe we are.”
“That's not funny.”
“Well something funny is happening!” Cornelius announced grandly, then popped the rest of the fruit into his mouth. “Might as well enjoy it.” He moved on from the fruit to the fish, and a pleased noise escaped him. Cornelius ate his breakfast with a renewed vigor, and Watt just stared at him.
Cornelius grinned. “What?”
“Maybe you still have a concussion.”
Cornelius laughed. “Or maybe I'm done trying to fight my destiny.”
Watt flushed. “You're going to milk that, aren't you?”
“I can—never mind. Dear, this pacu is amazing.” Cornelius teased. “Come on, eat. Enjoy the outside while you can, I have a feeling we're going to be grounded for awhile.”
Watt sighed, and allowed himself to fall into the lie. Everything would be fine, as long as they pretended.
Cornelius might have been losing his mind. But for once, he didn't mind. Funny, that.
The rest of the day, and night, was absolutely miserable.
After eating they had picked up, with Watt doing most of the work, and retreated to the lean-to.
It was well built considering the time and resources that Watt had available to him, but the storm that moved in on them was of biblical proportions.
The fronds could only divert so much water, and the framework of the limbs shuddered beneath the howling gusts of wind.
Watt lay closest to the entrance, which he had barricaded from the inside with brush and more fronds.
He took the brunt of the elements that penetrated every weak point of their shelter, and Cornelius lay between him and Maggie.
She faced the wall, her back against Cornelius' side.
Nearly every position hurt, and while laying on his back hurt the least, it was hard to see Watt's face.
Watt lay curled beside him, careful as can be.
While they were so close, there was also a great distance between them.
Watt was so afraid of hurting Cornelius, that he had hardly touched him at all.
It was irritating, the only true injuries Cornelius had were his possibly broken ankle and ribs.
And his recently dislocated shoulder was back in place, it just hurt like hell.
The concussion had to be long gone by now too, the headache he fought was likely from his weakened state.