In Search of Home

Chapter 52

It was four days after their return to the mansion that Vok'Rul was feeling like his old self, pre-bite. 

In that time, Viktor, who now had the motivation to eat a decent, healthy amount of food again, was practically healed from his scuffle with the snake creature. His knuckles were bare of cuts and scrapes. His stomach, sans itchy plant bandages, had a few new marks and nicks, but he could stretch without pain. He hadn't been able to get a good look at the scratch on his face - the only mirror he had access to was his shiny water bowl, which warped everything to an almost funny degree - but the scabs had diminished, leaving rough scar tissue in its place. 

Unfortunately, good food was probably the only thing going for him. Good rest was something he hadn't foreseen having an issue with. 

That first night they had gotten back home, Viktor and Vok'Rul retreated to their respective rooms to sleep. Viktor had dropped off pretty quickly, having missed his bed and blankets. He woke up with a sudden start, a scream dying in his throat, and the burning need to find Vok'Rul. 

It was telling how tired Vok'Rul really was that he hadn't woken up due to Viktor's nightmare, nor when Viktor clumsily burst into his room after fighting with the door for about five minutes. 

Viktor watched him breathe for a moment, trying to calm his racing heart, before scrambling up onto the bed with effort. His limbs weren't working correctly, his brain was too fried to correctly give orders. 

Vok'Rul finally woke up, sluggish and slow, when Viktor accidentally nailed him right in the face in his frantic scramble upwards. 

"Sorry," he whispered, voice shaky and unsure. "Jesus. Didn't mean to hit you."

The alien didn't seem to mind, though. Vok'Rul mumbled something unintelligible - or perhaps just another word that Viktor didn't know -  before tucking Viktor under his arm. The alien fell back asleep quickly, leaving Viktor alone in the dark room. He could hear both of their heartbeats, one frantic and one slow. Eventually, though, Viktor had slipped off as well, lulled by the alien's presence. 

The second night followed much of the same pattern, and by the third night, Viktor decided that he would just drag his bed into the alien's room to save them both the trouble. Mercifully, his nightmares about the zoo fiasco significantly diminished when he was in the same room as Vok'Rul. The nights got better. 

He couldn't say the same for the days. 

Vok'Rul didn't move around as much, opting to sleep in well into the day. That was okay with Viktor; he could fetch his own food after all. However, when the sun had reached its peak and Vok'Rul still hadn't gotten up from his bed, Viktor started to worry. He had had to fetch Thruul from the kitchens, anxiety shimmering just under the surface of his skin. By the time he had reached the kitchens, he had worked himself up enough that he was convinced Vok'Rul was dying again. 

Informing the flustered Thruul to follow him wasn't a hard task. What was hard was getting the large alien to hurry the fuck up. 

"Hurry!" he nearly screamed at the alien, pushing at his legs with all the force he could muster (Thruul didn't speed up at all). Thruul seemed perplexed at his insistence, and when they finally reached Vok'Rul's room, he was even more confused. Vok'Rul murmured something sleepily to Thruul, dismissing him with a flip of his hand. Viktor heard Thruul say his name in the conversation somewhere. After that, Vok'Rul finally sat up, yawning. 

The alien had since made the effort to get out of bed and sit on the couch when he woke up, after that, much to Viktor's relief. 

By the time the fourth morning rolled around, Vok'Rul was back to his old self, more or less. He got up before Viktor did, waking him with a soft call and a nudge to his bed, which he had sequestered in between the alien's large dresser and the wall.