I think I can manage being collateral damage
Ever kept pace with Mateo easily, his breathing measured out in careful four-counts. One-two-three-four inhale, one-two-three-four exhale. The rhythm helped—like stepping stones laid over a river he might otherwise fall straight into. Even so, his eyes flicked constantly across the path ahead, sweeping for anything that might change: a glint of metal from a vendor setting up a stall, a cart left askew, a dog straining at a leash.
He didn’t speak at first. Speaking meant disrupting the balance he was maintaining between sensory input and forward motion. But when Mateo suggested seeing different creatures, Ever made a soft humming noise that was meant to be agreement, though it came out sounding more like a mechanical acknowledgment.
"Morning activity patterns," he said after a moment, slightly breathless not from exertion but from the effort of managing everything at once. "Some diurnal species are most active just after dawn." Another flick of his eyes toward Mateo—not quite eye contact—and a furrow of concern touched his brow when he noticed the slight hitch in his friend’s stride.
"Are you overheating?" Ever wondered, slowing a fraction without thinking. "You should hydrate within the next half-mile."
Then, belatedly: "You’re doing well." His voice was soft but genuine. Whether or not this run was helping his stress levels wasn't entirely clear, but a had always been the case when it came to Mateo, focusing on his friend meant that Ever had fewer mental resources allocated to his own quirks.
He didn’t speak at first. Speaking meant disrupting the balance he was maintaining between sensory input and forward motion. But when Mateo suggested seeing different creatures, Ever made a soft humming noise that was meant to be agreement, though it came out sounding more like a mechanical acknowledgment.
"Morning activity patterns," he said after a moment, slightly breathless not from exertion but from the effort of managing everything at once. "Some diurnal species are most active just after dawn." Another flick of his eyes toward Mateo—not quite eye contact—and a furrow of concern touched his brow when he noticed the slight hitch in his friend’s stride.
"Are you overheating?" Ever wondered, slowing a fraction without thinking. "You should hydrate within the next half-mile."
Then, belatedly: "You’re doing well." His voice was soft but genuine. Whether or not this run was helping his stress levels wasn't entirely clear, but a had always been the case when it came to Mateo, focusing on his friend meant that Ever had fewer mental resources allocated to his own quirks.
Even if I had to lose you to know you I'd still be that temporary phase that you grow through
