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Theodore Nott (booksmart_devil) wrote in wished,

Theo couldn't drag his head up off Greg's shoulder and he murmured, a little to himself, maybe to the others, "Why am I so tired? Why so tired?" but the moment of clarity, of knowing there was something up with him came and went; it was, though, a quiet sort of sign that he was getting better. He hadn't realised that he was sick before now, despite cruel messages in his journal from disinterested readers, but the fluttering insistence that something was wrong came and went with more frequency now, and it was a step forward as much as it distressed him to start being aware of it.

He struggled to properly follow the conversation, but he managed to keep up with the jist and what he got distressed him. "Don't move it around, please." he begged at Zach's mention of a device to do just that in the school. "Please, please leave the furniture where it is, please, I'm s-sorry." he stammered, the fear of having something taken from him (something more taken from him) a throwback even to the days before he'd killed his father. He squirmed in Greg's lap, sliding himself off and wriggling to the floor where he sat at Greg's feet, forehead pressed to Greg's knee because he was too tired to even lift it at that point, tugging at Greg's trouser cuff. "I'll do better, please, I'm sorry, I'll do better just please, please." he begged softly over and over until it was just pleading.