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Mordred says that Lev is supposed to go off his medications and tell Mordred if he's not feeling well and needs to taper down more slowly.
Obviously, the thing this means is that Lev is supposed to taper down as quickly as possible and hide the tremors and headaches and sweating and light hypersensitivity from Mordred so that he isn't upset by them.
Lev manages to do this for almost two days.
"Me neither, really. I'm sorry. That -- that he -- or that --
"I'm sorry."
"He was very good and very insightful and he made beautiful things and he had a way of seeing the world so it was beautiful. And if I made him mad he hurt me. But everyone's like that."
"I don't. Know? How do you... I don't know how I'd know. I've never been. Out. Anywhere. I mostly, uh, I mostly keep to myself. I don't, I don't seem to want... anything that anyone else wants. If I knew what they wanted, I guess. Or what I want."
".......................Maybe?"
A little confused and a little terrified and mostly dizzy and telling his racing heart trusttrusttrust almost subconsciously at this point (already it's the life preserver he's been clinging to every day, what's a little more weight) and thinking about how Lev talks about love.
His brain is kind of having to fight to stay online.
His standards are in the Earth's core but that doesn't make it less true how revelatory it is that it just keeps not getting bad. He knows how kissing works; you sit still and close your eyes and let your mouth open a bit and respond to his movements. Except usually it is better to let his awareness drift off at this point and now he is trying to focus in and he hasn't stopped being a little terrified but he is not scared of the person kissing him at all.
In fact, the opposite of that.
He says "yes" by rote and then remembers they were testing something and pauses to give this an excessive amount of thought first.
"I think so."
"Uh, normally when you have sex with men, you wind up like feeling sick or wanting to die or floating a little bit to the left of your body. At least sometimes? And if that happens you should tell me to stop, I won't be mad. I don't want to have sex with you that you don't like."
Solemn heartfelt nod. "What if it's incidental weirdness? I spend a lot of my life feeling like I'm floating a little bit to the left of my body. I could try harder to stay with it and see if this is separately bad maybe?"
"I guess if it is normal then probably it is okay? --Or like if you start thinking about how my dick is just skin that you're touching and it's not different than any other skin because if you think about it as sex you will get overwhelmed and want to throw up. Then probably stop instead? I won't be mad if you ever decide you want to stop."
"I know this is kind of weird. But I don't want you to be sad especially when we're fucking."
"I'm not sure I quite know what it is that's objectively special about being sad when fucking. But -- I really appreciate it."
"This makes sense ...Please also let me know if you get upset. So long as we are making promises."
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