Work Text:
Awareness came slowly, but the pain did not.
Other sensations trickled through: the acrid smell of smoke, the blurred sight of twisted metal, and dim dashboard lights seen through partially lidded eyes. He was in a car, he had been in an accident - the realization came to him in pieces. Flashes of memory assaulted him: a car pulling out at a red light, a wet street, the stark fear of losing control, and then, darkness. But the pain was at the forefront - undeniable and all-encompassing.
TK tried to sit up but fell back into his prone position on the steering wheel with a gasp of pain. He takes a moment to get the breath back, to allow the white-hot pain to fade back to the edge of his senses. He was hurt - that wasn’t the question. The question was how badly.
He sits back again - more carefully this time. He manages to pry himself from the steering wheel, able to put a few inches of distance between himself and the mangled steering column before he finds himself pressed against the back of his seat. He blinks the haze of pain from his eyes as he catalogs what he knows:
- He was in an accident
- He is hurt, possibly badly
- The street he is on seems to be deserted; there will be no help from a passerby
- He needs to call for help but judging by the state of things, finding his phone seemed unlikely
He curses to himself. Great. This was...just great.
But he is a first responder; he spends his life dealing with these types of situations - even if he is usually on the other side. He forces himself to calm, to focus on what he can do instead of what he can’t.
What he can do: assess his injuries.
He moves through his body, experimentally moving each limb, shifting and cataloging resistance and pains. His left shoulder aches, but everything else is mostly fine until he gets to his chest. He tries to twist his torso experimentally and almost blacks out again from the all-consuming pain that springs up.
Okay - his chest was definitely hurt.
He continued the self-examination more cautiously; gently probing his chest with his right hand. He felt each inch carefully and cursed. There were definitely some broken ribs, and nothing on the left side of his chest felt good. He went to swear out loud and found that the simple act of forcing air into sounds caused immense pain.
He leaned back against the seat again, allowing his heart rate to slow in the wake of the agony. All he had learned from that exercise was that he needed help and he was in no shape to go find it himself.
He thought back to the end of his list and glanced around him to confirm: his phone was nowhere to be found. If his brief experiment with movement had taught him anything it was that he wasn’t going to be digging around on the passenger side floor anytime soon. So his phone was officially out. He eyed his steering wheel. It had commands for the bluetooth built-in - maybe they were still functional. He reached out a shaking hand to press the phone button experimentally. The display screen blinked to life and he almost heaved a sigh of relief.
He looked at the screen and felt more dread rise up within him. He wouldn’t be able to dial. That left him with only voice activation or redial. Based on everything he had felt since waking up voice activation was out. Which meant he was left with only one option, and it made his heart sink.
It was always the same name at the top of his recent calls - a thought that usually filled him with warmth and love.
Tonight...it might not be such a good thing.
Flashbacks of the scene he had walked out of at Carlos’s home assaulted him: echoes of the shouting, of the things they had both said - of the things he hadn’t meant. And then he had just...left. Walked out, gotten in his car. He had planned on just driving for a bit to clear his head before heading to his dad’s. It had almost worked too. He had felt better, more centered - right up to the moment of impact.
The universe had a cruel sense of humor sometimes.
He was probably the last person Carlos wanted to talk to right now, and he couldn’t blame him. But he had to try.
Besides, it was Carlos. Carlos would always pick up the phone, right?
He groped for the steering wheel with his trembling right hand. Muscle memory led it towards the familiar command button and clicked it through the options. Redial appeared on the display, mercifully the first option. His shaking hand thumbed the center button; initiating the command.
It rang.
It rang for hours, or so it seemed. In reality, it was not long enough - the voicemail picked up too soon and TK’s heart sank.
Carlos had declined his call. Carlos didn’t want to talk to him.
He had known it was a possibility, had expected it even; but the reality still stung.
His vision blurred again, but this time it had nothing to do with the smoke.
He took as deep of a breath as his battered chest would allow, and tried again.
The ringing seemed to last forever, each trill echoing with his own shame and regrets. Eventually, the voicemail picked up again and TK hit the button again to disconnect the call. There was no way out of this for him, he had to accept that now. He thought he might have been able to too if it hadn’t been for the way he had left things with Carlos. He loved him so much. He couldn’t believe after everything they had been through, everything they had shared, it would end like this - with his corpse trapped in his mangled car and Carlos with 2 missed calls. He didn’t want him to have to live with that guilt, but there was no way around it.
He was fading fast now, there wasn’t much time left. Somehow he found it in him to reach for that button one more time. He owed it to both of them. He needed to hear Carlos’s voice one more time, even if it was just a recording. He needed to tell him he was sorry, that he still loved him - even if he was only saying those words to his voicemail.
He hoped they could still give him some solace, help to ease the guilt TK knew he would feel (even though it wasn’t his fault, not really).
He hit the button again and listened to the tinny ringing sound reverberating through the speakers. He could feel the darkness edging closer, eager to claim him one final time but he resisted. He just needed a few minutes more - he needed to make this as right as he could.
The ringing stopped and TK prepped himself, stilled his breath so that nothing would drown out the sound of Carlos’s voice that he so desperately craved.
“TK?” Carlos asked, his voice echoing through the car stereo and washing over TK like a familiar blanket. With a start he realized it wasn’t his voicemail - it was actually Carlos. He tried to respond, but his voice wouldn’t work. There wasn’t enough air left in his lungs.
“TK?” Carlos asked again, voice tinged in concern, “are you there?”
TK tried again to speak, desperately willing his body to perform one of its most basic functions. If he could just tell him he’s sorry, if he could just remind him how much he loved him, he could die happy.
And it was pretty clear he was dying either way.
He pulled from his deepest reserves and found a little bit more strength. Just enough for one word.
“Sorry,” he croaked out, coughing in the wake of the word and setting his chest on fire. The new pain brought the blackness in from the edges and the last thing TK heard before everything faded was Carlos’s terrified voice yelling his name.
It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had. He hoped Carlos knew the rest.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Why do you always assume there is something wrong Michelle?”
“Because you called me in the middle of a Friday evening and we are now sitting in your living room with beers and you haven’t said two words since I got here.”
Carlos sipped his beer in silence and Michelle rolled her eyes before setting her beer down on the coffee table and turning on the couch to face him: “Carlos, just tell me what’s wrong. We both know you’re going to eventually, so why drag it out?”
Carlos scowled at her but she simply raised her eyebrows expectantly. He sighed and lowered his beer, resting it on his knee as he thumbed the label anxiously. When he spoke, his eyes remained decidedly on the bottle in his hands, “TK and I had a fight tonight.”
“Couples fight,” Michelle reminded him, voice gentle.
Carlos shook his head, swallowing, “We don’t. Not like this. It’s been almost a year and I think this is the first time we’ve ever fought like that. We were both so angry - we were both yelling. I don’t think either of us has ever raised our voices at all, not to each other. Then he left.”
Now Michelle furrowed her eyebrows, “Left how?”
“Just, left. Grabbed his keys, walked out the door, drove away.”
“He probably just needed some time to cool off,” Michelle said gently, placing a hand on his knee.
“I know he did, we both did. We just…” Carlos trailed off and shook his head before trying again, “we both said a lot of things. Not good things, either.”
“What did you guys fight about?”
“I can’t believe you would do something so dangerous, Carlos!”
Carlos paused, the hand holding his fork poised in mid-air above his plate, “I’m sorry, what was that?”
“You knew that guy was armed and you went in anyways - without backup! That was reckless and you know it.”
“You do realize what a hypocrite you sound like, right?”
Now TK froze too, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Carlos set down his fork, thoughts of dinner abandoned: “Exactly what I said. You’re being a hypocrite. How many times have you ended up in the hospital from work? How many times have your dad and I had to wait and hope and pray that you would be okay, that you would pull through? And yet here you sit, telling me off for taking a risk!”
There was stunned silence before TK spoke again, his voice quivering with barely suppressed rage, “It’s not like I’m doing any of that stuff for fun. I do it to save people. Sometimes it gets dangerous - what am I supposed to do, just leave them?”
“You could still save people without jumping off a building without looking! You could still save people without risking your own life!”
“I don’t take any unnecessary risks!”
“Like hell you don’t,” Carlos scoffed, voice cold and angry, “You haven’t met a risk you didn’t take. I’m still not sure if it’s just plain recklessness, a hero complex, or just residual suicidal tendencies.”
“You don’t mean that. You know I’m past that Carlos.”
Carlos shrugged helplessly, “I thought you were, I like to think that you are. But then it happens again and I have to wonder why. The only reason it hasn’t worked so far is just pure dumb luck and you know it.”
TK stared at him, chest heaving, “You’re angry because I get hurt at work sometimes?”
“I’m angry because you’re trying to tell me off for something you do all the time! I’m angry because one of these days your luck is going to run out, and that scares the hell out of me! I’m angry because someday you may not get so lucky, and where will we be then?!”
There was silence in the wake of his words, the echoes of Carlos’s shouts fading into the air around them. The next sound was the scrape of TK’s chair moving across the floor. When he speaks, his voice is scathing, “Well if that’s what you think of me, then I see no reason to stick around. Clearly, we both have some thinking to do and I think it might be best if we did it alone. I know I have no interest in staying where I’m not wanted.”
Then he was up and across the room. He paused only long enough to scoop his keys off the table by the door, and then he was gone.
Michelle was looking at him expectantly. Carlos shook his head and took another sip of his beer before speaking. “We both had some fears that caused us to react strongly, and we both said some things we regret. Then he left.”
Just thinking about it made the heat of anger flare up in him again. The fact that TK had so little regard for his own safety or wellbeing was a constant source of stress and fear for Carlos. He spent so much time worrying about the other man, had spent so many hours waiting and hoping for the best (but fearing the worst) that seeing TK shrug it all off infuriated him.
His phone, sitting on the couch between himself and Michelle began to vibrate. He glanced down to see TK’s picture light up on the screen. Carlos shook his head and tapped the screen, declining the call. He wasn’t ready to talk to him yet; he wasn’t ready to forgive.
Michelle raised an eyebrow at him but he merely shook his head. “I need a little more time,” he said. This hurt still felt too raw - he wasn’t ready to forgive and forget just yet.
Michelle opened her mouth, but Carlos shook his head again, “I know that I will forgive him. I know that he’ll forgive me. But right now...I’m just so angry. I don’t think I’d be able to talk to him without starting a whole other fight. It’s for the best.”
She looked like she had opinions on that and was no doubt about to share them, but whatever she was going to say was cut off by the sound of his phone vibrating again. They both glanced down at it and he declined the call again without even a pause. There was silence between the two friends until Michelle spoke again.
“Maybe you should give him a chance to speak before you just assume you know what he is going to say,” she suggested, “isn’t that what you are mad at him for doing in the first place?”
Carlos glared at her and was about to ask her whose side she was on when the phone rang again. He was about to reach for it, to repeat his action but something made him pause. Maybe it was Michelle’s words, maybe it was that three calls in such a short amount of time didn’t seem right for TK. He was more the type to try once and then leave the ball in Carlos’s court, too afraid to overstep. Despite everything he would know that Carlos would always call him back. A nagging fear started to eat at his stomach and when he reached for the phone, he swiped to answer instead of declining. “TK?” he said hesitantly, a question as much as a greeting.
There was silence on the line for several moments and Carlos glanced up at Michelle to see her brows furrowed in concern as well.
“TK?” he asked again, the growing concern coloring his voice, “are you there?”
He was about to repeat himself when TK’s voice suddenly sounded on the speaker, weak and faint and almost unintelligible - almost. It only uttered one word: “Sorry.”
Then there was a cough, then silence.
Carlos could feel his heart racing as he looked up at Michelle with frantic eyes. She already had her phone out and was dialing 911. He turned his gaze back to the phone, desperately wishing he could see through the screen, that he could find out what TK was dealing with - that he was going to be okay.
“TK!” he said again, voice louder, more frantic. There was no response and he took a deep, shuddering breath. He looked to Michelle, who was relaying the details to a dispatcher. Their eyes met and she gestured for him to keep going, to keep talking. He swallowed and complied:
“Hang on TK,” he instructed, voice shaking, “help is on the way. You’re...you’re going to be okay.”
Michelle put her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone, “They’ve traced his cell signal and rescue crews are on their way. Keep talking to him, it can't hurt.”
Carlos nodded and kept talking, “We both know you’re too stubborn to give up, right? Don’t prove me wrong yet Ty. Just hang on a little longer.”
There was still silence on the other end. Every second of silence, every word uttered without a response caused the fear in his gut to grow.
“I have so much to apologize for, you can’t leave us like this. This is not how we’re meant to end Tyler Kennedy.”
Michelle reached out and put a comforting hand on his knee again and he blinked away tears. He hoped that no one from TK’s crew was on call. They didn’t deserve to see him like this.
“I’m so, so sorry for everything I said tonight sweetheart. I’m just so afraid of losing you.”
Distantly he heard the sound of sirens approaching through the phone. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to take a deep breath. Help was there. TK was getting the help he needed. Carlos only hoped it would be enough. He could hear the sounds of doors opening now, shouts of instructions being given. They were on their way to him.
He just had one more thing to say.
“I love you TK,” he said quietly as the voices and sounds of the first responders grew closer, “don’t leave me yet.”
Someday you may not get so lucky, and where will we be then?!
It was the last thing he had said to TK. He had spent every agonizing minute of waiting trying to remember what it had been. Now that he knew, he wished he could forget.
He sat in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, leg bouncing anxiously. This was a sadly familiar experience, he had been here too many times before. But this time felt different.
TK had been in a car accident - a hit and run from what they had been able to determine so far. He had been trapped and in pain, and he had tried to call for help. He had tried to call Carlos for help, and he had ignored him. It went against everything that Carlos had thought he stood for. It went against every promise he had ever made to TK.
The sound of frantic footsteps echoed across the surprisingly empty waiting room, but it wasn’t until Michelle stood that Carlos looked up. Owen Strand was standing before them, far more rumpled than usual with a panicked look in his eyes.
“What happened?” he asked, voice filled with the panic so evident in every feature.
Michelle gently guided him to the chair beside Carlos before settling into one across from them. With a calm and steady voice (bless her), she explained: “TK was in an accident. It looks like it was a hit and run. He called Carlos and I was with him, so I called 911. I haven’t gotten much in the way of specifics yet, but unfortunately it looks like he was hurt pretty badly. A doctor should be out soon though to tell us more.”
Owen nodded, running a hand through his hair as he processed. It was such a familiar gesture - something Carlos had seen TK do a hundred times - that it caused him physical pain. He sat quietly, giving Owen time to process, to ask the questions he would inevitably have.
It comes sooner than he would have hoped. He could see the moment it clicked in Owen’s head; the moment the pieces didn’t fall into place. He turned to Carlos with a curious expression and it was all Carlos could do not to shy away. He faced all sorts of nefarious characters at work without blinking, but the worry and confusion from his boyfriend’s father was almost enough to cause him to turn tail and run.
“Wasn’t TK with you tonight? Where would he have been going?”
Owen looked from Carlos to Michelle, hoping that someone could give him answers; that someone could make this make sense. Michelle gave Carlos a questioning look, but he shook his head. He had to own up to this at some point - no reason to delay the inevitable.
“We had a fight,” he said, almost startled by the sound of his own voice. “We had a fight, and he left.”
Owen nodded, patting Carlos’s knees comfortingly. “This isn’t your fault Carlos,” he said gently.
Carlos swallowed. He knew the guilt and shame must be rolling off him in waves for Owen to have picked up on it so quickly, but Carlos doubted he would be as sympathetic if he knew. But this was a sin he couldn’t keep to himself.
He took a deep breath and continued, voice shaky, “that’s not all. He...he called me. He called me and I was still angry and I didn’t answer. He was hurt and scared and dying, and I declined his calls. Twice.”
Owen took a deep breath and Carlos waited for his recrimination. It never came. Instead, when he turned to face Carlos again his expression was sad, but sympathetic.
“But you answered, and that’s what matters.”
Carlos tried to argue, tried to point out that he had ignored a call for help (twice), but Owen simply shook his head, “You’re only human Carlos. You’re allowed to have emotions. Besides, you had no way of knowing what had happened. You had no way of knowing he was in trouble.”
Carlos let those words sink into his skin. He didn’t deserve them. “I still should have answered. I’ve always told him I would always be there for him, and then I wasn’t when it mattered.”
Owen looked at him sadly and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, “You answered and that is all that matters. Answering that last call could be the only reason he has even a chance of pulling through this. You were there for him, and he’ll tell you the same thing.”
There were a hundred things Carlos wanted to say. He wanted to say Owen couldn’t possibly know that, that they had no way of knowing if pulling through was even an option. He wanted to say that TK was angry enough when he left to never want to speak to him again. He wanted to say that he might have actually screwed this thing up, that there might be no going back. He wanted to say that from the one glimpse he had had of TK as they rushed him from the ambulance to the trauma room it was very likely they would never have that chance.
But Owen didn’t need to know any of that, so instead he simply gave him a tight smile and nodded.
The hours dragged by and familiar faces filtered in and out of the waiting room. The rest of the 126 arrived one by one as they heard. He accepted Marjan’s offered coffee with a tight, false smile but otherwise only nodded in acknowledgment of anyone’s attempt to speak to him, to comfort him. The fear in their expressions drove through him like a spike, hollowing out room for his own fears and guilt to amplify. Every so often a doctor or nurse would stop by with an update and while the group as a whole held on to every word, most of them did not even process to Carlos.
Punctured lung, internal bleeding, damage to the spleen and left kidney, possible tbi, broken clavicle…
It was all too much. The doctors at least seemed to agree. Each one they spoke to seemed grim and serious. They talked treatment options, they talked worst-case scenarios. Owen simply nodded along, listening closely, and looking to Michelle for her opinion. Most of all he did a terrible job of masking the fear in his eyes.
At some point, Grace showed up, straight from dispatch and still in her uniform. She headed straight for Owen and Carlos, giving them each a kiss on the forehead. She lingered at Carlos, meeting his eyes. “He still loves you too, no matter what,” she said softly.
With a start, he realized she must have been the dispatcher to take the call, that she had heard his end of the desperate one-sided conversation. He nodded weakly and she smiled at him - a soft and gentle thing - before crossing over to sit next to Judd and take his hands in her own.
Eventually the doctor appears again with an expression not so grim as before. Owen stood nervously, hands trembling at his sides. The rest of them watched quietly, waiting to know which had won: their hopes or their fears.
The doctor graced them with a tired smile, “He should be fine. There was a lot of damage, but he should pull through. The surgery to repair the internal bleeding and damage to the kidney and spleen was successful and the broken clavicle has been set. He’ll be moved to recovery shortly and it’ll be awhile until he wakes up, but you’re welcome to sit with him. It can only help.”
Owen nodded, stepping forward to grab the doctor’s hand in thanks. “Thank you for saving my son,” he said softly, voice dampened by the emotion running through it.
The doctor waved off his thanks, “I feel like I should be thanking him - it’s always a good feeling to be able to give good news. I’ll make sure someone comes to get you once he’s settled.”
With a last nod to the rest of the group, the doctor was gone and Owen turned to face them all. His face was covered by a wide grin, he seemed taller now than he had a few minutes ago with all the fears weighing down. “He’s going to be okay,” he repeated as if they all hadn’t been listening to every word the doctor said just as eagerly.
There was a flurry of activity as the group seemed to come alive again, all talking at once and smiling again. Carlos leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He was going to be okay. He repeated it over and over again to himself like a mantra. He was going to be okay.
We still have time to fix this, was the other thought that occupied his mind. And he intended too, the first chance he got.
Eventually, it was decided that the rest of the crew would leave, go home and sleep in their own beds and come back tomorrow morning to see TK when he would hopefully be awake and more lucid than the aftermath of major surgery would allow. Carlos watched them go, unsure where his place was. He sent a pleading look at Michelle, who gave him a reassuring smile as she gathered her things. Before he could ask, could voice the doubts in his head he felt a hand on his arm.
He looked up to find Owen gazing at him, “You and I will stick around and go in as soon as we’re allowed, if you’re up for it.”
Carlos released a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding and nodded. Owen gave him a tight smile, “whatever this is, you’ll figure it out.”
Carlos smiled at the older man, but secretly he wished he had his confidence. From where he sat, nothing was certain - least of all that. It was okay though, he told himself. TK was alive and as long as that was true, Carlos could manage anything.
Still, there was a gnawing feeling of dread in his gut. When he and Owen were alone in the waiting room he finally gave voice to it: “He might not want to see me. It might make him too upset. I don’t want…”
“Carlos,” Owen said firmly, cutting him off, “stop. You’re coming with me. If, when he wakes up, TK says he doesn’t want to see you, then you can leave. But I happen to know my son pretty well and I am fairly certain that having you not be there when he wakes up would make him feel even worse.”
Carlos nodded, and Owen’s expression softened, “Couples do fight from time to time. I know you two don’t usually, but you’re rather the exception to that I guess. That doesn’t mean you’re perfect, it just means that when it does happen it’s going to feel that much worse and take that much more work to fix things. You’re just going to have to trust in each other. You both know how you feel about each other - hell, we all know how you feel about each other. You love each other and at the end of the day that is what matters. Trust in that, and everything will be okay.”
Owen’s words brought tears to his eyes, but he swiped them away before looking up and giving him a smile, “Thanks,” he said softly and Owen smiled back at him, reaching over to give his leg a comforting squeeze.
“No need to thank me, I’d do anything for the two of you. Besides, I’ve got the easy part. You two have the real work to do.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence until a nurse came by to inform them that TK was in recovery. They followed him around the corner to a non-descript door.
“It’ll be a while before he wakes up still,” the nurse told them as he pushed open the door, “but I’m sure you’ll both be happier waiting in here.”
They thanked him and entered the room. Carlos barely made it across the threshold before he stopped, frozen by the sight before them.
TK was there in the bed. At least, he assumed it was TK. Almost every inch of the left side of his body was covered in bruises or bandages. His left arm was secured with a sling; he looked so still and unnatural in that bed. He looked so unlike himself. You would think for the number of times he ended up getting himself hurt this would get easier, but it never did.
Carlos was startled from his stupor by a strangled sound coming from beside him. He turned to find Owen staring at TK, eyes wide and beginning to fill with tears. He seemed frozen in shock or horror, rooted to the spot by the door. Carlos understood completely. He gently reached out to grab Owen’s arm, guiding him to one of the chairs by the bed. He stepped back and watched as Owen reached out with trembling hands to grasp TK’s, lying limply on the blankets. He quietly sat in the other chair, watching the scene before him. Owen was speaking quietly to his son, running a tender hand through his hair. As much as he longed to join him, as much as he wanted to have proof for himself that TK was really still alive; he knew that Owen needed this.
The man loved his son more than anything else in the world and ever since this whole nightmare had begun he had kept up a brave front. He had supported Carlos, he had reassured the team. But now, out of other people to focus on and faced with the reality of tonight’s events, he needed some time. Carlos intended to give it to him. He settled into the chair and took a deep breath before closing his eyes. Hours of fear and panic had worn on him, and now in the relative calm, he allowed the exhaustion to settle into his bones as he drifted off into a restless sleep.
Carlos was awakened by the sound of soft voices. He blinked several times, trying to figure out why the hell there were people in his bedroom before the feeling of a chair in his back and the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor guided him back to reality. He sat up with a start, eyes roving his surroundings frantically until the sight before him caused his racing heart to still.
Owen was sitting on the edge of TK’s hospital bed, talking quietly with him. TK was listening, offering a small smile in response to whatever it was his dad had said. He was awake.
It was a miracle unlike anything Carlos had ever seen. He couldn’t stop staring. Eventually, TK felt his gaze and looked past his father to meet Carlos’s eyes.
“Hi,” he said softly, voice weak but worlds away from how it had sounded over that fateful call.
“Hi,” Carlos responded lamely.
Owen looked between the two of them. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on the top of TK’s head before pulling himself off the side of the bed. “I’m going to go make some calls and update the rest of the crew. I’ll leave you two alone for a bit; give you some space to talk. Just, try not to get any more traumatic injuries while I’m gone?”
TK chuckled, “I’ll do my best Dad,” he promised. Owen smiled at him before clapping Carlos on the shoulder and walking away. There was silence in the wake of his footsteps before Carlos pulled himself out of the chair and stepped closer to the bed. He hovered a few feet away, unwilling to get to close if TK didn’t want him there yet.
“How are you feeling?” he asked nervously, taking another look at him. The bruises had darkened while he had slept, ugly splotches of pain decorating his skin in stark contrast.
TK went to shrug, but winced when he jostled his shoulder, “Kind of like my entire body is one giant bruise, but I’ll be fine.”
Carlos nodded tapping his fingers anxiously on his thigh, “Do you need anything?” he asked, uncertain of where to go from here.
“Actually yes,” TK said and Carlos stilled his anxious fidgeting.
“What is it? I can get...”
“I need to tell you how sorry I am,” TK said, interrupting Carlos’s nervous rambling. He stopped talking and returned his gaze to TK, who held it. He closed the distance between them, stopping at the edge of his bed.
“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he said quietly, unsurprised by the tears he felt forming in his eyes. “God Ty I am so…”
But TK shook his head, “You had no way of knowing, none of this is your fault.”
Carlos shook his head more adamantly, “No, I shouldn't have done that. I’ve always promised you I would always be there for you, and I wasn’t. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know exactly what trouble you were in, I made you a promise and I should have kept it. I am so, so sorry.”
TK smiled at him sadly, reaching out his good arm to wipe away the tears on Carlos’s face. “Which is one of the many reasons why I will always think you are one of the best people I have ever had the pleasure to know. But it doesn’t change the facts Carlos - you’re allowed to make mistakes. Trust me, I’ve made more than my fair share, I know what I am talking about.”
Carlos gave a weak, watery laugh as TK moved his hand from Carlos’s face down to grasp Carlos’s hand with his own.
“I’m not mad at you Carlos,” he told him gently, “Not for that - never for that.”
Carlos gripped the hand holding his tighter, “I’m just so glad you’re okay. If you weren’t and I hadn’t answered those calls...I don’t think I would have been able to live with myself.”
TK shook his head firmly, “It wasn’t your fault. No matter what happens Carlos, I don’t want you to ever feel that way. Not on account of me, not ever.”
He met Carlos’s eyes again, expression serious. They held each other’s gazes for a few moments before TK’s softened, “That’s why I called back the third time. I...wanted to make sure you knew I didn’t blame you, no matter what. I needed you to know how sorry I was, about everything.”
Carlos nodded, “I’m sorry too. I should have been more upfront about how I was feeling, about how scared I was of losing you. Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know?”
“No,” TK agreed softly, “it doesn’t.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, tethered together by their clasped hands and soaking in the warmth of each others’ presence.
“There was another reason I called you again that third time,” TK said eventually, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
“What was the other reason?” Carlos asked.
“I needed to remind you how much I loved you. I couldn’t leave without being sure you knew that.”
Carlos swallowed thickly at that. It was a grim reminder of how close they had been to a permanent end, how lucky they were to be here together at all. He slid onto the edge of the bed, leaning forward and pulling TK into a kiss. It was a desperate kiss; filled with all the fear he had felt, all the love he always felt for this man. He pulled back to breathe, to wipe away fresh tears. But then he felt himself tugged forward and he went without objection, leaning back in and meeting TK for another kiss, this one slower; more patient. This was the kiss they could share every day, for as long as they had.
Carlos just hoped that could be a very long time. He intended to do everything he could to ensure it was.
As they separated Carlos rested his forehead on TK’s. “I love you too,” he said softly, “more than I have ever loved anyone. You’re it for me TK, I hope you know that. You’re stuck with me. As long as you want me, I’m yours.”
As close as they were Carlos could see the corners of TK’s mouth lift as he smiled, “Then I hope you were planning on forever, because that’s the only answer I will accept from you, Carlos Reyes.”
Carlos chuckled and nodded, pulling away just enough that he could meet TK’s eyes, “Forever sounds like a plan to me.”