Maxwell looked like he'd been run through by a bus. He was as weak and trembly as a newborn fawn and Andrew had to do his best not to smile while the man attempted to walk down the stairs, give up, and demand for Andrew to carry him down.
"You did this to me." Maxwell told him ominously, and Andrew just accepted the mild anger from the smaller man.
He had, in some regard, and he was fine being 'forced' to take care of him. It was such a hardship to carry around the man that he loved. It was devastating. Andrew was never going to recover from having Maxwell's warm, trusting body pressed against his own. Maxwell's trusting head pressed against his shoulder as the man breathed on his neck. Comfortable, safe.
It was such a burden.
