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Naturally, his own agenda would drift right back to work once he’d finished allotting this time for a break. Under his chair, his espeon’s tail thumped against his tail in reminder that there were matters to attend to beyond a social hour. He made for a better timer than an actual clock did.[break][break]

But that was neither here nor there.[break][break]

“Well,” he hummed in thought, one knee crossing neatly over the other as he settled back in his chair–teacup still in hand. “I haven’t been on a dig in quite some time.” Maybe that was still a bit work-tangential, but excavations had always been of an independent fascination for Hazel. “Nor have I been antiquing. I should find something new to restore.”[break][break]

Was it obvious that he was fascinated with old objects yet?[break][break]

He had other, more mundane hobbies of course– puzzles of all varieties, dry ancient era documentaries that threatened to make his husband cry tears of boredom, and combing book reviews for the more hilariously scathing submissions, namely, but one thing at a time he supposed.[break][break]

His head nodded at the appraisal, sipping from his cup in the lag between words. “I think I’d go mad if I had to keep to just one area of interest, admittedly.” His shoulder rose and fell lightly.[break][break]

GIDEON GRAVES’s question, though, prompted the rise of one brow. “I have, as a matter of fact. It’s been some time since I’ve done contract work, but I did some in my earlier years of teaching.” Selfishly, he’d be interested to see what that particular department was working on. “Anything of interest recently?”

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Noting her nerves, he is quick to extend his hand in an offering to shake. “Obviously you know who I am as your professor, but even so– I’m Hazel Albrecht.” It’s by no means an excuse to negate the formality of professor given the nature of their connection, but it’s still at least personable, right? He offers her another smile. “I was in your shoes once, and it was always nice to find familiar faces. Though I don’t have any Johtonian influence in my own history. Did you spend more time there?” Despite his formal nature, curiosity often came easily for Hazel. Particularly when others were from regions he had less experience with in terms of study–Johto being on the list of curiosities he’s not quite managed to delve into yet.[break][break]

“Wonderful.” Without any remaining fanfare, he sets off for the lecture hall’s door so that they might step out onto campus grounds. “My office is the next building over–where the archival department is housed,” he clarifies. From under the desk where he’d been napping, Hazel’s espeon skitters out to trail after them. It blinks politely up at Elise before trotting up to pace himself alongside his trainer.[break][break]

“It is good to hear, though, that you’ve managed some connections already,” he says lightly as he glances over, “I was not as…ah, adept socially. As for Galarian interests specifically, do you have any? I’d be happy to answer any questions you have, though it’s been some time since I visited home.”

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As much as Hazel would like to claim he was adept at taking care of himself…he would be lying. After decades of medical care, he’d adapted bad habits in the years he’d spent on his own. Pushing too far, ignoring warning signs until they were impossible to look away from. It was always only then that he reluctantly nursed himself back into a functional state, and he only went to the doctor if it truly couldn’t be avoided.[break][break]

So it was for the better that Hugo was there to keep him in line, even if there were many embarrassing instances where doing so turned Hazel childish and petulant, like a kid refusing to take cough syrup. He always felt guilty afterward for the arguments he caused by being a problem. By always being burdensome to the other. There were dark thoughts he didn’t often voice—resentments for himself than for the attention Hugo pressed upon him in bouts of overprotectiveness.[break][break]

Wouldn’t you be happier without me to worry about? Wouldn’t it be easier for you if I wasn’t around to hold you back?[break][break]

Hazel was too selfish—another thing he detested in himself. It ached too much to consider letting Hugo go. Not that he’d ever asked for such a thing, but Hazel knew he struggled. He wasn’t oblivious. He knew this reminded his partner of Leá.[break][break]

“Yes, again,” he admitted quietly, too worn out to really insist he was fine. And he was quick to amend when he detected reluctance in Hugo’s tone. “Not to stay, and you can take me there. I’d just like some of the books I keep there. Thank you.” He leaned against him again, too warm forehead pressing against the side of Hugo’s face briefly before Hazel took the tea cup.[break][break]

“I would just like to get some fresh air, and pick them out myself. That’s all.” Mug cradled in both hands, he turned to go sit. In the kitchen nook, where the bay windows let in warm afternoon light. It sounded nice, and though he could probably find somewhere else more comfortable to curl up, Hazel found himself unwilling to drift far from Hugo’s side. Maybe if this cleared up some of the fog in his head, they could play a pointless game of cards, or chip away at a puzzle.[break][break]

He was just turning to make the suggestion when it felt like his head practically short-circuited. His brain blanked out, and his vision swam as vertigo seized him. “H—“ Abrupt as the sudden onset was, he wasn’t able to finish his sentence. Vision tunneling and spitting, he was only aware of the sudden, prickling lick of heat that crawled up the back of his neck and the turn of nausea that meant he was inevitably about to pass out.[break][break]

Hot tea splashed over his hands, but he didn’t register it. Nor did the sound of ceramic hitting the kitchen tiles. He tried to turn to look at his husband, to make his mouth work. Oh. Something isn’t right. It was probably pitiful to see—the inability to catch himself as he went slack. A short-lived burst of pain as the side of his head connected with the table edge before everything cut to jarring dark.