Chapter Text
Rashid was a quiet, dutiful young man. Very young, Daniel's mind helpfully supplied every single time he allowed his eyes to linger on Rashid's figure as he silently flitted about his apartment, tidying up and straightening things out, even though it was not his job. As a matter of fact, Daniel was quite vague on what Rashid's actual job was—he was under the impression that nurses did not stay at a patient's home for hours on end and take on household chores.
Yet, Rashid always seemed to be there when he woke up and was still there when he went to sleep. He was there to serve him his meals and to feed him on occasion when Daniel's failing fine motor control failed even further. He sometimes sat down by Daniel's bedside, back ramrod-straight, and watched TV with him before his patient succumbed to his body's exhaustion. He read to Daniel, too, even though the older man insisted he was still capable of reading, even if turning pages had become a bit of a challenge. He refused to read off his laptop, though, regardless of how 'ergonomic' Rashid claimed it was – the day he gave up paper books would be the day they could put him in the ground.
There was something very weird about Rashid, too, and Daniel used this weirdness he sensed about the young man as an excuse to watch him out of the corner of his eye, to ask him questions that were surely too personal to ask a medical professional. Rashid sometimes answered his questions, sometimes refused to, and sometimes, if he deemed the question too personal, his eyes would get all glossy and puppy-like. Daniel would drop it then. There was no point in torturing the boy.
"Say, Rashid," Daniel began one morning as the young man pressed the button on the side of Daniel's bed to make him sit upright.
"Yes, Mr. Molloy?"
That voice. That voice was another reason Daniel both loved and dreaded asking Rashid questions – having to deal with all sorts of inappropriate, warm and fuzzy feelings that voice made him feel.
"Don't you have other people you're taking care of? Other patients? Is there a Mildred somewhere waiting for you to show up while you're here for hours on end, tending to my sorry ass?"
Rashid's fine features softened into a gentle smile. "There is no Mildred, Mr. Molloy; there is no need to be jealous." Daniel bristled. "The people running our agency believe we can serve our patients best if we give them our undivided, individualized attention. Now, Mr. Molloy, you should rest while I bring you your breakfast. Today, I have prepared for you a fruit platter with Greek yogurt and some freshly baked croissants."
"You made the croissants? Is that something they teach you at nursing school?" Daniel asked incredulously as the young man picked up his hand to take his pulse. Gloved fingers closed around his wrist, and for a moment, he lost focus. Can he even feel my pulse through the glove?
A ghost of a smile played on Rashid's lips as he gently laid Daniel's hand back onto the bedcover.
"A side hobby of mine, Mr. Molloy. I shall fetch your breakfast. Rest."
"You're weird, you know that?" Daniel called after him as he exited the room. "A weird-ass nurse, personal maid, pastry chef weirdo!"
"Rest!" The young man called over his shoulder, laughing as he went. Daniel closed his eyes, letting the gentle sound of Rashid's laughter wash over him.
So what if he had a little crush? He was an old man, with no family left who would speak to him, he was at the end of his life, and his nursemaid just happened to be the most ethereally beautiful person he'd ever laid eyes on. It wasn't like he would do anything about it either – despite his propensity for trespassing and sticking his nose into what was decidedly not his business, he understood professional boundaries. And Rashid was definitely off-limits.
Which meant that Daniel just had to study him.
There were many strange things about Rashid: his fascination with all sorts of knick-knacks and gadgets, his inordinate attention to detail, and his meticulous punctuality. How he barely seemed to sleep or eat, looking exhausted most days, but still insisted he had the energy to cater to Daniel's needs. And just how… sad he was. Everything about him seemed sad.
The weirdest thing about Rashid, though, and the thing Daniel appreciated most about him, was that he seemed to anticipate Daniel's every need before he could even formulate it in his mind. It was as if Rashid lived in Daniel's head, listening to every ache in his body, every passing thought, every frustration – and responded to them in kind. Daniel had even asked him once about it, half-joking, and Rashid had just brushed it off as 'years of professional experience.' Daniel was doubtful, of course. He'd never seen a government-issued ID of Rashid's, but he was pretty sure that years of experience in nursing would come with years of, well, living, and Rashid looked like he was fresh out of college at best. And once again, Rashid would brush it off as 'good genetics,' a great moisturizing routine,' 'I watch beauty tutorials on TikTok; you should really take a look at those, Mr. Molloy.'
The thing about Daniel was that, even though he was essentially immobile and locked in his own home – nay, his own body – he was still an investigative journalist with a fresh point of view. So he couldn't help but want to dig his fingernails into the enigma that was Rashid – perhaps the last enigma he'd get to examine in such close detail before his body gave up on him permanently.
"So, no Mildred, fine," Daniel said as soon as Rashid re-entered the room. The young man rolled his eyes semi-politely before setting the tray he had been carrying onto the little table by Daniel's bed. "What about your… missus? Does she get cranky after you pull all-nighters at my place?"
The young man looked at Daniel impassively. "Mr. Molloy, are you asking me this as a patient? Or as a journalist?"
Daniel worried his bottom lip with his teeth. "As a friend."
"A friend?" Rashid repeated, his face taking on an almost wonder-like expression. "Are we friends?"
Daniel shrugged. "You're pretty much the only person I see these days. And you've given me sponge baths. I feel like that level of personal humiliation should indicate some kind of intimacy."
Rashid smiled wanly. "Fine. Friend it is." He sighed.
"No, there is no missus, Mr. Molloy. Though I have been known to appreciate the female form occasionally, I am more of the… mister persuasion," he said emphatically, looking somewhat nervous.
It took Daniel a second. Oh, he thought, this is Rashid's big coming out moment to me.
"Relax, kid," he barked out, laughing. "I know I look like your average boomer, but I'm not going to kick you out for liking dick."
Rashid's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Must you be so crude?"
"Must you speak like a Jane Austen character?" Daniel mocked back. "Seriously, kid–"
"Mr. Molloy, though I appreciate that at your age, most people would look young, I must insist that you stop calling me that," Rashid said firmly, thrusting a spoon into Daniel's hand. I am a fully grown adult with a nursing diploma and… all that goes with it!"
Daniel looked at him blankly as he blushed faintly, his cold hand half-closed around Daniel's awkwardly. As soon as Daniel noticed that, Rashid pulled away hurriedly.
"You should eat more," Daniel said after a moment's silence that felt like an eternity. "Your hands are freezing. You're probably anemic, which is kind of stupid for a nurse."
Rashied huffed out a sigh of annoyance. "I assure you, Mr. Molloy, my diet is appropriate for someone of my constitution."
Daniel gave him a look. "Okay, listen, Rashid. If I'm going to stop calling you kid, then maybe you should stop calling me Mr. Molloy. That sounds like you're addressing my father, and the man was a bastard. You've seen my bare ass countless times at this point. You might as well call me Daniel."
Rashid blinked, looking like a deer in the headlights.
"That wouldn't be professional–"
"Yes, but it would be friendly, right?" Daniel quipped, scooping his yogurt shakily. He saw Rashid's eyes follow his unsteady hand and felt very embarrassed all of a sudden. Damn my stupid old body.
"I suppose," Rashid said absently. "I suppose it would be appropriate for a friend to call another friend by their first name."
Daniel gave him a genuinely worried look.
"You sound like you've never had a friend before," he said.
"I…" Rashid drew a shaky breath. "I suppose…" He looked down into his lap.
"I suppose I never have," he finally said, his voice strained. "I'd always busied myself too much with… work. And family. I think. Yes."
Silence hung between them.
"Well, that's depressing," Daniel said finally, making his younger companion chuckle.
"Quite."
The older man's eyes lingered on Rashid's half-sad, half-amused face for a moment too long before he sighed, leaning back against the pillows. "I kind of fucked up my friendships, too."
"Oh?" Rashid looked up at him curiously.
"Yeah, it comes with the territory of being a journalist, you know? Always stuck my nose into things that weren't my business, and apparently, people don't take too kindly to it," Daniel replied. "Makes 'em real testy when you bring them proof that their partner's been cheating on them for years. When you tell them their crypto investments are bullshit. When you… well, you get the picture."
Rashid gave him a wry look. "Is that a journalist thing or a Daniel Malloy thing?" He asked politely, his big round eyes fixed on Daniel's face in a way that was almost uncomfortable. "I imagine there are journalists out there with stable friendships."
Daniel smirked. "Not good ones."
"Now who's being depressing?" Rashid shot back, and Daniel barked out a laugh. The kid was funny. No, Rashid was funny.
"So, no missus, then," Daniel finally said, and Rashid went rigid again. The older man almost cursed himself for making him clamp up again, but he pressed on, genuinely curious. It wasn't like anything exciting happened in his life anymore, so living vicariously through his much younger, much more attractive nurse might as well be the highlight of his day.
"You know, you can tell me to fuck off," he challenged. "I don't need to know if it's crossing a line. Just tell me to back off, and I will. I'm not that much of an asshole."
Rashid drew a steadying breath, shaking his head. His dark curls flopped prettily against his cheekbones.
"No, it's alright," he said finally. He looked away, eyes distant. "I… I suppose I haven't had a lot of luck when it comes to long-term relationships. I… tend to stay attached to people, even if they no longer want me."
Daniel gave him a skeptical look.
"Who wouldn't want you?" He asked before he could stop his stupid mouth.
Rashid gave him a wry look.
"Plenty of people, I think. In my experience, I… I tend to cling to things quite a bit. Lost causes."
Daniel shrugged.
"I suppose we have that in common. I fucked up two marriages and never even noticed it happening. Not until their bags were packed and the divorce papers were signed. Somehow, it always came as a surprise."
"How did you know it was you?" Rashid asked quietly.
"Beg pardon?"
The young man cleared his throat, seemingly trying to collect his thoughts. "How did you know it was you that fucked it up? That it wasn't the other party."
Daniel didn't know what surprised him more: Rashid swearing, Rashid's question itself, or the earnest manner he had asked it. A question nobody had ever asked him before.
"I… suppose I didn't know it," he said quietly. "I just always assumed it was me. My job. My personality. Something else about me that made them not want to stay."
"You blame yourself, then?" Rashid asked.
"Christ, kid – Rashid – what is this, a therapy session?" Daniel laughed uncomfortably. The young man drew to his feet then, his angular form looking oddly pointy against the backdrop of the blue city sky.
"No, just a friendly conversation," he said, playing with his hands. "Just… food for thought, I suppose." He turned away, contemplating the view outside.
"I… did have someone. Do have someone. Maybe. It's quite unclear, actually," he muttered, almost as if he were talking to himself. "He… we've been together for many years. On and off for a very long time. He doesn't always know what I do for him. And… I don't always understand what goes on through his mind and why he does what he does. I…"
He glanced back at Daniel, his face stricken.
"I believe I hurt him deeply years ago. I… did things that changed the path his life was on forever. I suppose it might sound dramatic when I say it like that, but… the things I did, the things that I continue to do for him, they are not healthy. For either of us. But I made myself a promise that I'd stick around, Daniel. For as long as he would have me."
Daniel let the silence hang between them as he contemplated Rashid's words. All this talk of years and long time, the weight of Rashid's tone as he talked about his partner? Boyfriend? It made him sound exhausted, worn down by the magnitude and length of this relationship that, realistically, couldn't have been a few years long at most.
"It does sound dramatic, Rashid," he said finally. "Why don't you just… leave? If he doesn't appreciate you. If you keep hurting him?"
Rashid gave him a sad little smile as he picked up Daniel's breakfast tray.
"Call me a hopeless romantic, Daniel," he said as he backed out of the room, "but he is the love of my life. And I will be with him until the end."
They looked at each other for a while, Daniel processing Rashid's words, Rashid staring back at him, looking both woeful and surprised at his own admission. Then, he finally turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Daniel wondering why he felt so emptied out after their exchange.