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When Roach came inside, he made his way through the entryway slowly. He stopped to hang his jacket, put his bag and case down, and drop his keys into the dish on the side table. Izzy could see his shoulders were slumped, eyes dull.
Izzy met him at the archway to the living room. "Hey. How was class?"
Roach's lips pulled into a thin not-quite-smile as he hummed noncommittally. "It was okay. But everything I make is shit, and Dr. Bonnet was nice about it but I could tell he thought so too."
Izzy frowned. "Isn't Bonnet usually pretty constructive? I thought it was Teach you had to look out for." He reached out to wipe at a smudge of charcoal on Roach's cheek.
Roach sighed and leaned into the touch. When he spoke again, it was with great effort. "Usually, yes. Dr. Bonnet is too nice though, you know? I just would like him to say what he really thinks. Which is that my figures were shit." he said flatly. "I don't know how to see anymore. My hands don't know either."
Izzy hummed. This again. "How long is the class again? Four hours?" he asked.
"Three," Roach corrected.
"Okay, still, that's a long fuckin' time to stare at a model and overthink everything you're doing. Maybe you're just tired. Just need a break today."
Roach blinked. "I am tired, Izzy. So tired." He huffed softly against Izzy's hand. "Still shit, though."
"Okay." Izzy took a breath and stopped arguing. "Well, shepherd's pie's in the oven, why don't you sit for a bit while I get it ready? Do you some good."
Roach leaned back up when Izzy let his hand drop from Roach's face and turned into the kitchen. Without the grounding touch, he looked around as if coming out of a daze, shoulders rising and falling with a heaved breath. He moved to the couch and settled down with a blanket over his lap.
In the kitchen, Izzy cleaned while the top layer of potatoes and cheese turned golden-brown and bubbly, poking his head into the living room to check in on Roach every few minutes. Roach never moved, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. Izzy sighed to himself.
He set two places at the table, and then fully stepped into the living room. "Roach? Dinner's ready, you want to come sit?"
Roach blinked and nodded, rising sluggishly from the couch and easing into his seat at the dining table. Izzy put the hot dish from the oven between them and served Roach first, then himself.
"I'm not very hungry," Roach said, voice quiet, as Izzy was scooping food onto his own plate.
Izzy put down his plate and picked up Roach's again, spooning some back into the dish a little at a time and waiting for Roach's nod of approval. "Might feel better once you've eaten," he said as he put Roach's plate back in front of him. "Recharge everything."
Roach nodded faintly. "Maybe. I don't feel good."
Izzy searched his slack face. "I know. Have some dinner, and then we'll clean off all that charcoal and put you bed. How's that?
Roach nodded and picked up his spoon.
He ate slowly, not savoring but coming in and out of focus, spoon moving and stilling, almost seeming to forget he was in the middle of a meal. Izzy watched and kept pace so they could finish their dinner at the same time, even as the ever-steaming mince grew cold.
When Roach set his spoon down and let his hands drop into his lap, Izzy looked up. "Done?"
Roach nodded mutely.
"Right. Come wash your hands and I'll get your cheek."
Roach did as instructed, hands still under the running water as he allowed Izzy to wipe at his cheek like a child without protest.
Izzy guided him into the bedroom and changed alongside him, turned the bed down, then wrapped an arm around Roach's chest once lying down.
"You'll feel better in the morning," he said quietly.
"Promise?" came Roach's small voice.
"I'll be here either way."