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“Get under the bed and don’t make a sound, okay? I’ll be back soon.”
“But they’ll get you.”
“ Just get under the bed and, no matter what you hear or what you see, just stay completely quiet and completely still. Do that for me, alright?”
“No, wait, Carlos -”
It’s been a week since their home was broken into.
TK has spent that entire time going over the events of that night in his head, trying to work out what he could have done better. He knows it’s a stupid thing to be doing - he’s sure his therapist will have a field day with it when all this is over - but he’s going stir crazy stuck in this room all day, waiting for a sign that his world isn’t about to collapse around him.
It’s all just so, so wrong. Carlos is the steady one, the one who doesn’t take unnecessary risks, who doesn’t end up in a hospital bed ten times a month. Yet, here they are, the heart monitor the only indication that he’s not yet gone.
TK squeezes Carlos’s hand again, praying that, this time, he’ll get one in return. But it doesn’t come, and TK still hasn’t learned to deal with the grief and disappointment he feels in that moment.
It’s his fault, he knows this. He should have held on tighter when Carlos snuck out of their room to see what was going on. He should have followed him, should have taken the bullet that might still end Carlos’s life. He should be the one lying in the hospital bed; he’s been shot before, after all, and what’s one more scar to add to the list?
Tears build in his eyes and TK does his best to blink them back, not willing to let go of Carlos to wipe them away. He’d thought he’d have run out by now; indeed, the first couple of days, he had been completely numb once the initial sobbing was over, just staring down at the love of his life and stupidly thinking about how they were going to miss their dinner reservation the next night.
How trivial all that seems now. TK’s not even sure a world exists outside this room anymore.
He clears his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the bed. “Hey, babe,” he whispers, kissing the back of Carlos’s limp hand. “So, it’s been a week, and I’m wondering if maybe you could think about waking up for me? Seven days is long enough to sleep, right? I just wanna see your eyes again, you know how much I love them.”
TK sighs, scanning Carlos’s face for non-existent movement. He swallows back the lump in his throat and sniffs loudly, shaking his head. “I’m really angry at you, you know?” he says, a little louder now. “I’m fucking furious. I’m sure you’d have a few choice words to say about hypocrisy and my own hospital stays if you were awake, but the point is that you aren’t, Carlos. You aren’t , and I’m so mad at you for doing this to me.” A small, almost hysterical, laugh rips out of him. “Isn’t that selfish? You’re the one in a coma, and I’m still thinking about myself. Not that there’s anything ground-breaking about that; I guess I’ve always been the selfish one in this relationship.
“I know you like to protect people, babe, but you’ve got to be more careful. And, yeah, I’m one to talk, yadda, yadda - but, seriously, Carlos, you weren’t even armed. You should have stayed with me - I told you to stay with me. You don’t know, maybe they wouldn’t have bothered us in the bedroom. You didn’t need to get shot, and I’m angry at you and at me and at the people who broke into our home because I can’t lose you .”
He heaves a sob, closing his eyes and folding in on himself, keeping Carlos’s hands in a death grip. He can’t - he won’t - lose him.
“You better open those eyes soon,” he chokes out, “because I’ll never forgive you if you leave. Never, you hear me? Please wake up, Carlos.”
It takes three more days.
TK is bent over the bed, head resting next to Carlos’s on the pillow as he desperately fights off sleep, when there’s a flicker. It’s brief, barely there at all, and TK would have missed it had it not been for the laser focus he’s had on Carlos ever since the incident.
But Carlos’s face twitches, TK is sure of it, and he shoots up instantly, heart in his mouth.
“Carlos?” he whispers, hardly daring to breathe.
There’s no movement for another agonising few seconds, then, all of a sudden, Carlos jerks, eyes flying open. He gasps, wildly looking around the room until his gaze lands on TK, who is still frozen in shock.
They just stare at each other for a while, TK drinking in the sight before him as he tries to get his brain to catch up on what just happened. He’s been hoping for this moment for well over a week, but he can hardly believe it now.
Then, “TK?” Carlos says, voice weak and confused, and TK snaps out of his fog.
He only barely manages to stop himself from falling on Carlos, instead taking his face in his hands and pressing kiss after kiss on every available inch of skin. He doesn’t even realise he’s crying until Carlos has a hand on his chest, gently pushing him away.
“TK,” he repeats, stronger this time. “You’re scaring me, what’s going on?”
TK slumps back into the seat next to the bed, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes to stem the flow of tears. Stars dance in his vision when he looks back to Carlos, but he blinks them away impatiently, not wanting to let his fiancé out of his sight again.
“Do you remember the night of the break-in?”
Carlos tilts his head in a so-so motion. “Some of it,” he says. “I remember hearing the noises, telling you to hide, leaving the bedroom. Nothing after that.”
TK nods, sighing through his nose. “They shot you,” he says quietly. “You’ve been asleep for over a week. I thought… I was told that you…” He closes his eyes, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re awake now, and that’s all that counts.”
Carlos is silent for a long time, and TK is startled to see tears on his cheeks when he opens his eyes again. He stands, hands flitting anxiously over his body. “Are you okay?” he demands. “Are you in pain? Should I call the doctor - fuck I should have already done that, hang on.”
He reaches for the call button, but he’s stopped by Carlos’s hand wrapped around his wrist, grip surprisingly strong. “Look at me, Ty,” Carlos asks gently. When TK does, he smiles sadly. “I’m sorry. I -”
“No.” TK pulls out of his grip, running a hand through his hair. “No, you don’t apologise. You don’t get to apologise, not when you almost died . This isn’t… No. No.”
He grits his teeth against the sudden wave of emotion, swiping his hands furiously under his eyes. He won’t cry again; he has to be strong now. He has to be the steady one, for once, and he’ll be damned if he lets Carlos down again.
“If you’d let me finish,” Carlos says after a while, “I was going to say that I know how it feels to see someone you love like this. I know how painful it is. And, though I know it wasn’t my fault - or yours, I know you’ve been blaming yourself - I am sorry. I hate that you had to go through this.”
TK wants to argue, but he doesn’t have any more words left in him. Tears slide down his cheeks as he keeps shaking his head, finding himself unable to stop.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m so sorry, Carlos. I was so scared that I would lose you; you’ve got to promise me something.”
Carlos frowns. “Anything.”
“Promise me that you’ll be more careful?”
There’s a beat, then, “Of course, but don’t you think that’s a little rich coming from you?”
And, for the first time in over a week, TK laughs.