Wapun Meadow no rest for the weary

When Evien had told him that he needed sleep, Taylor hadn't been expecting for him to be so determined. He was expecting for him to get up and leave sooner or later, and he is at once both pleasantly surprised and frustrated when he shows no signs of getting up. A true medic in the making, he thinks.
Truth was, Taylor had already accepted that he was destined for a life of being awake and being less awake, coming and going in phases. Never truly sleep. He toys with the idea of telling him the real reason.
Then Evien moves closer.
He tenses. Every cell in his body screams at him to turn around, stand up. The sound is unbearable and he jerks himself up to a sitting position. He wonders if Evien can tell how fast his heart is beating. How dilated his pupils are. Already, an apology is forming in his throat. I—I'm sorry. He says, breathless. He closes his eyes and breathes out. Deflates.
That was— that was my fault. I'm sick, Evien. I'm being chased, Evien. What do you do when you're in a game of tag forever, Evien?