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David rounded the bases to cheers of excitement. His batting helmet perched crookedly on his head so as not to mess up his hair. He ran through third as Mr. Rose fumbled the ball in the outfield. Patrick planted himself behind home plate in anticipation, ready to share a celebratory kiss.
Patrick watched the ball make contact with his back-- Mr. Rose hadn’t been joking about his arm --he thought. The thoughts turned from teasing as David fell. His wrist crumpled under the weight of his body and the stupid helmet flew forward with his momentum. Partick heard the crack of David’s head against home plate, even as the ump stepped out to call him safe.
The rushing of the blood in his ears muffled the cheers from the crowd. He waited, frozen in shock, for his boyfriend to stand up and complain about the dust on his baseball costume. The cheers turned to yells of concern as David stayed on the ground, unmoving.
The smell from the barbecue had been a teasing promise only minutes before. Now it threatened to turn Patrick's stomach as he dropped to the dirt beside David. His hands reached out even as Ronnie yelled for him to stop. Patrick didn’t want to stop. He wanted to touch David everywhere. To brush the dirt from his hair, pull his head to his lap, and kiss him senseless for scaring him. Ronnie held him back and said something about head injuries. Which doesn’t make sense because David was going to be fine. He had to be fine. Roland called for an ambulance as Jocelyn ordered people to stay back. Someone kept screaming David’s name in an endless loop of anguish.
A hush fell over the field when the paramedics arrived. They strapped David, still unmoving, to a backboard. One of them asked for his medical card and personal information. Mr. Rose couldn’t seem to help, so Patrick took over. His voice scraped as he talked and he realized the screams filling the field had been coming from him.
-*-
The drive to the hospital was tense. Patrick listened as Mr. Rose whispered words like “head injury” and “yes like before” into the phone. His own hands clenched to the steering wheel like a lifeline. Both men kept their eyes on the road as guilt over their role in the day’s events filled the space between them. Patrick dropped Mr. Rose at the emergency bay before he turned to park his car in the lot.
As soon as he parked the tears began to fall. His conversation with David from this morning played like a loop in his head.
“We just need a body, David.”
The image of his boyfriend’s body, unmoving on the dirt of the baseball field, won’t be leaving him any time soon. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his jersey and muted the incoming stream of texts from Stevie and Alexis. He’d update them once he had something to say.
-*-
The waiting room was too loud. People moved throughout the space their voices raised in cheerful conversation. None of them burdened by concern for the fact that they'd put their son in a hospital bed again.
Johnny can't push away the image of a much smaller David. Red-eyed and pleading after a little league game that ended with a run-in with a wild ball. Johnny had brushed his concern aside, assuring David it was all part of the game. His son was sensitive to the actions of others and shared his mother’s flair for dramatics. He hadn’t listened close enough to hear the truth of his words.
It was halfway through the season before he made it to a game. He’d been cheering proudly in the stands as David stepped up to bat, a shy smile on his small face at the volume of his father’s enthusiasm. Johnny watched as David stood, unusually stiff, beside the plate. He saw the ball came in wide, striking David across the helmet. He heard the whispered words from the dugout, striking harder than any baseball. Another pitch went wide, then another. David braced for the impact each time he stepped up to the plate. The final one caught him in the back of the neck, right at the edge of his helmet. The pitcher shrugged as if to apologize for the wild throw, while the coach sent another player to walk the bases for David.
Adelina scooped David up, dried his tears, and promised him ice cream after the doctors. The ice cream had come three days later once the swelling at the back of David’s skull had come down. Johnny hadn’t pushed David to play ball again after that.
He’s startled from the memory when Patrick sits beside him. The younger man was clearly shaken by the day’s events. They sit together in silent vigil bound by guilt, as people move through the waiting room around them.
"Family of David Rose?" a nurse called out, as he led them towards the man who's tied their lives together.
-*-
David looks gorgeous. Objectively, he’s a mess. His skin ashen and marred by the bruise on his forehead. But he’s breathing and he’s awake and Patrick has never seen anything more beautiful.
“They said I have a concussion.”
His voice is flat, with none of the dramatics Patrick expected given the events of the day.
“Okay, when they’re ready I can take you back to the apartment. We’ll get you set up with whatever you need while you rest.”
“No.” David’s voice is still toneless and Patrick realized that David has yet to look at them.
“I don’t want to go to your place.” The emphasis there is undeniable.
Patrick thinks of the motel. The lingering cigarette smell of the sheets mixing with Alexis’s perfume in the air. The light from the parking lot that always seems to flicker through David’s window. The endless alerts of Alexis’s phone and Mrs. Roses’s general- ness. It’s a sensory overload on a good day and certainty no place for David to be recovering from a concussion. He opened his mouth to say so but Mr. Rose beat him to it.
“Son you know how your mother can get in situations like this. You'd feel be more comfortable someplace...quieter. At least until you’re a little more recovered.” He set his hand on the bed, inadvertently resting it on David’s splinted wrist. Johnny pulled back with a wince as David hissed in pain.
“Fine,” David’s voice is still flat, his eyes fixed at the wall on the far side of the room. “They said I’d be able to check out as soon as someone brings me a sling. I’m going to have to get up every 2 hours tonight to make sure that I can, so sorry in advance for all the alarms.”
“Of course David, I'll make sure you get up. I've had a concussion before I remember that part is rough. Once we make it to morning though you can have the whole bed to yourself to rest okay?" Patrick can tell he's rambling but he doesn't know what else to do.
“Mmm,” David hummed non-committedly, his uninjured hand twisted in the bedsheet.
“Here we go,” the cheerful voice of the nurse cut through the tension in the room. David’s lip curled in the barest hint of a grimace at the sight of the blue nylon but he allowed the nurse to help him into the sling. There’s a flurry of paperwork and instructions handed over to David who struggles with only one hand. Patrick grabbed the folder and pressed a kiss to David's uninjured temple before he left to get the car.
-*-
Left alone for the first time in a long time Johnny didn't know what to do. The nurse helped David into the wheelchair before gesturing for Johnny to take over. Johnny wheeled David to the exit. The squeak of the wheelchair on the linoleum the only sound in the silence between them.
“I’m sorry about what happened, today son.”
“Dad, it was an accident. It’s whatever oaky?” Johnny could practically hear David’s jaw clenching at the thought of enduring this conversation.
“It’s not though. Seeing you hurt like that brought back a lot of bad memories for me. Except it was worse this time because I actually threw the ball.”
“Yeah wasn’t expecting you to manage that,” David’s reply was quiet but with a hint of his usual bite.
“I may not have the best track record when it comes to romantic advice or parenting in general--”
“Do we have to do this now?” David interrupted, his teeth visibly gritted this time. Johnny forged on.
“Things seemed a little tense between you and Patrick in there. I’m not saying that you’re wrong to be upset, but maybe think if it’s really him you’re upset with. You should have seen him on that field earlier. He’s got to be as shaken as you are about this whole situation.
“I know,” David was quiet now.
“He loves you son.”
“I know that too,” David drew a breath and turned in the wheelchair to look him in the eye. “You know the last time this happened wasn’t your fault either, right dad?” His voice was small. Just like that boy from so long ago, looking for his father’s approval at the expense of his well-being.
“I know. I didn’t throw that ball son, but I’d give anything to go back and stop it for you.”
David didn't say anything back. He raised his eyes to the ceiling to blink his tears before he breathed out a sigh. Johnny rested a hand on his uninjured shoulder and the words settled, unspoken, between them.
When Patrick pulled up with the car it’s clear he’d been crying, though he made a valiant attempt at hiding it.
Johnny settled himself in the backseat, to give the boys a moment. He can’t hear the words whispered between them but he doesn’t need to. He watched David reach out and let Patrick wrap around him, both men calmed by the loving embrace.