Archive of Our Own ^beta

His throat hurts, burns unpleasantly, and it feels as if the whole room swings from side to side. He tries his best to fight off the waves of nausea that keep hitting him. He knows he is barely hanging onto consciousness and the deep exhaustion threatens to pull him back to the bottomless sleep and his eyelids feel way too heavy to keep open.

But he doesn’t care about any of that.

He only cares about the fact that Carlos is there, hugging him tightly and as if he is worth of all the gentleness and tenderness of his touches and kisses. Still worthy of his love. The warmth and steadiness of him and his arms around him is so familiar and he is hanging onto him as if his life depended on it.

His body aches, especially his chest, and he barely has any strength left in his arms, but he still tries to clutch to his sweater and keep him close and trying to pull him impossibly closer. He doesn’t want to let him go.

He fears what will happen when he lets go of him. If the anger and resentment are still there. He doesn’t have the energy to worry about it, so he just squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe in his scent and warmth and cherish the sensation of his lips and breath against his neck.

He has missed him so much.

Even when he is right there, the physical feeling of emptiness in his chest, only caused by yearning and longing, doesn’t seem to ease up, and he cannot get enough of the closeness. He yearns for the comfort of the closeness and intimacy of someone he loves can only offer and he has been deprived of that for months.

But he has been deprived of giving it back too and even though his mind is hazy, and he couldn’t even answer the most basic questions of date and what has happened, but he knows Carlos and he knows he is far from okay, and he cannot do just nothing when he is suffering.

Holding his hand, holding him, and just being there is the least he can do, but he hopes it is enough to bring some comfort to Carlos, that he is alive, awake, and that he is wanted and needed.

He loses the track of time, and he only focuses on being, on holding him, hugging him back, but when he feels a few of Carlos’ tears fall on his neck, wet and warm, he holds him little tighter and closer, even when it feels like he is crushing his own chest.

TK grunts slightly as he reaches to stroke Carlos’ shoulder blade and Carlos immediately tenses up.

”Am I hurting you?” he asks, quietly, but his voice is full of urgent concern.

”No, no,” TK mumbles instantly, fearing that he might pull away, and he tries to kiss his shoulder, but in reality, he might just bury his entire face into the fabric of his soft sweater, ”you’re here.”

Carlos’ fingers start to move in his hair, running through it, gently and mostly just stroking and massaging the back and top of his head, and he does it with care and it’s comforting and loving, and he hopes he doesn’t stop.

”I am.”

He manages to make it sound as if it was the most obvious thing in the world and TK thinks he might choke up on the emotions that it awakens in him, and relief and fear are blending in and mixing into indistinguishable mess of emotions and all of it drowns him under and he cannot keep his head above it.

”I didn’t think you would—you sounded so mad,” he chokes out.

“I’m here,” Carlos repeats, little more gently, pressing yet another kiss on his cheek, near his ear, and slowly pulls away.

TK tries to swallow his disappointment and tries not to care about the fact that Carlos isn’t denying the part of being mad at all, but as he forces his other eye slightly open, he realises that Carlos didn’t pull far away. He is sitting on the edge of his bed, his hip almost pressed against his own.

He is slouching slightly, but still looking at him and his eyes are still glimmering. He looks incredibly upset, even though now he is breathing more easily and steadily, and relief is shining on his face and deflating his entire demeanour.

TK tries to fumble for his hand, but his movements are less than graceful, and he is entirely sure he doesn’t have his full fine-motor skills back because he ends up fumbling air once again.

“I—we need to talk,” he mumbles, swallowing hard.

He tries to lift his hand again, and this time Carlos is there to catch it. He intertwines their fingers this time, slowly, and places their hands on his lower stomach.

The warmth of his skin is almost burning warm against his cold fingers, but the last thing he wants to feel is cold. He tries his best to squeeze his hand, comforting and encouragingly. It’s not much, but it’s the best that he has to offer in that moment.

“You should rest,” Carlos points out, tenderly squeezing his hand in return.

Despite the fogginess of his mind, he knows he has a point. He can barely keep his eyes open, and the pain and ache are becoming harder to ignore and he can feel himself slipping to the side of sleep, but he tries to fight it.

He has more urgent things to take care of.

Carlos is there and he has a chance of actually making things right, at least attempt to fix it and apologise, and make some of that pain go away from Carlos’ eyes and nothing is more important than that.

Sleep can come after that.

“I’m so sorry,” TK says, his voice hoarse and almost cracking under the weight of the emotion in it, “I’m so sorry.”

TK is distantly aware that he is just repeating himself, but the apology has been bottling inside of him for months and he needs to say it aloud before keeping it in him will break and wreck him completely. He thinks his heart might implode if he cannot do anything about Carlos’ obvious pain.

His mouth is drying, and rest of the words just get stuck in his throat and his breathing gets little uneven. Suddenly, there is a sharp pain in his side and the noise that escapes from his lips is a mixture of a whimper and grunt.

He isn’t completely in the moment, but he thinks he hears Carlos shush him gently and suddenly his hand is in his hair again, gently stroking and patting it.

“Alright,” he says, still in a lot softer tone than TK would have expected, “we can talk about that later, okay?”

It’s almost a permission to rest, to give him some more time. There is no emergency, no fires to put out right now, and the urgency of his mission to make things right gets little weaker, because it doesn’t sound like a last change to make things right.

That the chance, and Carlos, will still be there when he wakes up. Most importantly, Carlos sounds considerably less mad than he did earlier in his dream, but he is hurt, there is no denying it.

Maybe that’s a win of its own. He still tries to stroke the back of his hand, in some feeble attempt to apologise through touch, as if caressing him would take away some of the pain he has inflicted on him for past weeks.

“Will you--?” he starts, but his voice disappears somewhere even though he tries his best to focus on the words, but exhaustion is getting overpowering and Carlos’ hands running through his hair is only lulling him further into sleep.

It reminds him of home, it makes him feel safe and loved.

“I’m staying here,” he promises.

TK completely believes his words and some sort of weight rolls of from his heart.

“Thank you,” he mumbles weakly, before the sleep takes over, knocking him completely oblivious to rest of the world and he isn’t sure if his little love confession actually leaves his lips or whether it stays only in his head.

***

When TK wakes up again, he struggles to open his eyes. It takes embarrassingly lot of energy, and his eyelids still feel like they would be made out of lead. He ends up blinking slowly, struggling to make sense of his surroundings and his memories return in chunks.

It takes only a few minutes to him to realise what the empty chair next to his bed means.

His heart breaks slowly and gradually with each a shallow breath he takes, and he tries to figure out if all of it was just a dream. He wouldn’t put it past of his mind to conjure some sort of fever dream of Carlos still caring about him and possibly forgiving him. The idea of it definitely feels like a dream.

Yet, it felt so real. His hands, the gentleness of the way he cupped his face and kissed his cheek, and the weight and warmth of him on top of him, and the scent of his sandalwood shampoo mixed in with the citrusy soap and something that is indistinguishably him.

TK has dreamed of him countless times during the past months and nothing his subconscious has come up with has been that real and authentic compared to the real thing and everything about that moment was sharper and more in focus than his dream about his mom.

He is sure it happened, but maybe the relief of him being alive was enough for Carlos. He has actually no obligations to stay by his bedside anymore. He made sure of it all those months ago. He doesn’t really blame him for not wanting to stay.

Hospitals are awful places to stay when someone you love is admitted there. Time slows down, the lights feel too bright and sounds too loud and every moment that passes seems to drag every bit of hope away from a person and he cannot imagine Carlos sticking around just for fun, and he hurt him bad, and TK isn’t sure what kind of mental gymnastics it would require for Carlos to justify staying after all of that.

Still, foolishly and naively he hoped that he would be there, and that he would finally get the chance to apologize, and that they could get a second chance on the happiness that they already had in their hands.

It feels a little bit too good to be true, and he should have already known that things rarely ever are too good, and universe doesn’t really owe him second chances.

“Carlos—”

His name drops out of his lips involuntarily, like a smallest of prayers and like it would be something sacred, and as if his voice could call him back, and he wants to blame his mumbled-up brain and the longing that seems to make up half of himself for it.

“I’m right here.”

His voice startles him slightly and he turns his head slightly. His neck and shoulders feel stiff and just the small movement sends tingling pain along his spine, but he bites his cheek through it, and he is glad that he does, because he spots Carlos standing in the opposite corner of his hospital room.

He is standing near the small table, covered by a jug of water, plastic cups and emesis basins.  Carlos is holding one of the disposable plastic cups in his hand, apparently only have gotten up to drink some water.

His hair is messier than before and his sweater more wrinkled and the way his eyes are shining tells TK he hasn’t caught any sleep since he last saw him.

Some sort of embarrassment flashes over him when he realises that he jumped to conclusions too fast, assumed the worst and doubted him. His embarrassment grows even hotter in the pits of his stomach when Carlos flashes him incredibly soft half-smile and throws the cup to the trash can.

Carlos crosses the space between them quickly and as soon as he next to his bed, he is picking his hand into his again and TK lets him do it. It feels just as good and comforting as before and TK tries to cling onto his hand tightly, trying to make him feel as wanted as Carlos is currently making him feel.

It feels normal and familiar to hold his hand, and his skin feels as smooth as always, and as TK stares at their clasped hands, every line on his thumb curves just as he remembered and he is tempted to brush the mole near his thumb, just because the familiarity of it.

TK knows him, through and through, and none of that knowledge has fallen off his head during the months they have spent separated, and as ridiculous as it is, he thinks that just holding his hand feels like coming home.

“How long was I out?”

“Only couple of hours,” Carlos replies, tilting his head to the side, “before that—two days.”

TK isn’t what kind of answer he expected, two days feels as possible as three weeks, but he is glad it has only been days. Still, his answer makes him feel little hollow. Only thinking about the worry and fear he has put everyone through again is making his stomach turn unpleasantly.

TK nods quietly and doesn’t tear his gaze away from their joined hands. “Is the boy okay?”

There are a lot of things he needs to say and ask, apology being very high on top of that list, but that’s a massive thing and he doesn’t even know where to start with it, how to figure out and find the words that could shrink the abyss between them and attempt to heal both of their wounds.

Nothing feels eloquent enough and he wants to have his ducks in a row for it, and possibly even plan it because he doesn’t want Carlos to misunderstand anything and after everything, he deserves the best apology he can possibly offer him.

Maybe it’s cowardice to ask about the boy he saved rather than talk about the heartbreak he caused to Carlos, but it feels safer and more comfortable option right in that moment.

“Yeah,” Carlos huffs, softly, “he is expected to make a full recovery. His mother was really grateful.” 

TK lets out a little shaky breath. It’s a relief to hear, it almost makes everything to worth it, to know that he managed to save someone else’s life, make an impact on how their life is turning out, and he has always been willing to risk his own safety to help someone else.

It’s never a price he wants to pay, and in retrospect maybe he should have tried to do something to prevent the hypothermia from setting in, but he wouldn’t change anything about his decision to pull off the ice rescue with the unfit equipment when it resulted in the boy surviving and living.

His exhale seems to draw most of the energy away from him with it. He feels exhausted, but he still looks up, trying to catch Carlos’ gaze and say something, start the arduous work of apologizing and explaining even with something, but he thinks he gets little lost in Carlos’ eyes when he finally looks at him, too.

The bright lights of the hospital room are making his eyes seem shade darker brown than usually and his eyes are still just slightly red from crying and it might be the worst thing TK has noticed since waking up. Yet, there’s warmth in his eyes and it seems to be directed at him and he doesn’t know what he has done to still deserve it.

Still, the way he looks at him makes his breath hitch in his throat and it is impossible to focus on anything else but him.

TK lifts his other arm, even though as soon as he manages to lift it from bed, it starts to feel as if his whole arm shakes, but he still stubbornly wants to cup Carlos’ face. He runs his thumb along his cheekbone, feeling the slight scruff of his stubble against his palm and Carlos seems to lean against his touch.

“Babe--,” he starts, hoping to tell him that everything is alright or that at least everything will be alright, but as soon as he opens his mouth, someone coughs politely and slightly.

“I apologize for interrupting,” friendly looking nurse says with a gentle smile on her face from the door, nodding towards the bed, “but we need to take him to MRI scan and neurological tests.”

Carlos’ gaze darts towards her and he nods politely at her. TK lets his hand fall away when Carlos straightens up next to his bed, but he isn’t ready to let go off his hand yet.

It feels like a concrete reminder that maybe Carlos doesn’t hate his guts completely and that not all hope is lost on trying to somehow fix everything between them, and despite fearing the conversation and the consequences of it, it’s a conversation he wants to have.

He owes that much to Carlos, and he thinks he owes it to the both of them.

Yet, he knows from experience that the scans and tests will take some time and probably exhaust him completely, and that their conversation gets postponed further away because of that, and he fears the chance of having that conversation is slipping away from his fingers.

TK squeezes his hand feebly. “Stay?”

Maybe it’s too much to ask. Maybe it’s not in his right to ask him that, but the nurse is already standing next to his bed, unlocking the wheels of it with her feet, and maybe Carlos’ words could give him a peace of mind for the next few hours.

“Yeah,” Carlos murmurs, quickly bending over him to kiss his forehead gently and briefly.

It’s a small touch, one among the many if he thinks about the grand scheme of things, but it means the world to him.

***

The next time TK manages to get his eyes open, it’s easier and his hospital room is crowded.

His dad is there to give him a bone crushing hug as soon as he gets the first word out of his mouth. Nancy’s hug doesn’t pale in comparison to his dad’s one and her eyes are still gleaming when she lets go off him. She doesn’t listen to any of his attempted apologies of bring fear and pain to her life again, only waves her hand and tells him that she is glad that he is alive, and he better not do anything like that ever again.

Paul is there too, in a matching hospital gown, for almost the same reason. His smile is bright and TK mirrors it, revelling in the mutual happiness of surviving. For two people still recovering, their hug is unsurprisingly graceless, and they mostly just end up bumping their arms together, but it is still full of love.

Mateo hugs him too, going on something about nothing being able to stop the 126 and his excitement and happiness is contagious, and TK cannot help but smile as he tries to follow on what he is saying, explaining the details of when they rescued Paul.

His smile almost hurts his cheeks when Marjan holds up her phone, showing Judd and Grace on the other end of the call, across the hospital, the proud parents and the little bundle of joy that the baby Ryder is. Their happiness seems to glow through the phone screen and it’s almost intoxicating to witness.

Tommy arrives little late to the party, lingering near the door, as if she wouldn’t dare to step into the room and TK is having none of it. This time she attempts to apologize, but he cuts her off, saying that it wasn’t her fault in the slightest and he is nothing but happy and proud that she is his captain, and that he will be back as soon as he gets on his feet.

Carlos is there too, standing in the corner, little further away from everyone, barely speaking. Nancy checks up on him and they speak about something, but it’s completely inaudible to him. He is just grateful that Carlos is still there, but he hates that he seems to think that he needs to distance him away from him when everyone else is there.

But he guesses it is still fair.

His mind feels more clear, and exhaustion isn’t as overpowering as before, but he has little trouble following everyone’s speech when they are talking at the same time and having seven people in his hospital room is little overwhelming.

Yet, they are his family and the amount of love there is in the room is almost tangible and he feels it, it makes the whole room appear warmer and cosier, and he is grateful, and it is difficult to feel anything else but love and joy when the loudest noise in his hospital room is laughter.

“I’m so glad to see you all,” he says at one point, smiling genuinely out of relief and happiness, and letting his gaze sweep all of them, “and I appreciate that you all dragged yourself here, but I need to talk to Carlos. Alone.”

Carlos blinks at him little perplexedly, as if he had hard time believing he is throwing everyone else out, but everyone else seems to get the implication of his words immediately. It’s a quick round of hugs, smiles, patting on shoulder and legs, promising to be back and his father threatening that his mother is calling him soon before the room empties.

Marjan and Nancy practically usher the rest of them out there, giving them the privacy that he wished for. The room seems lot larger and quieter than before and Carlos is still standing in the opposite corner, his arms crossed against his chest and there is almost a hint of uncertainty in the way he keeps looking at him.

“Hi, babe.”

His words seem to break Carlos from whatever spell that has kept him frozen in place and he walks across the room.

“Hey,” he says, with a slight half-smile and there is a hint of awkwardness, but there is intention in the way he holds his gaze.

Enough so that TK hangs his head a little to duck out from it. He feels flustered and the blue blanket in his lap seems startingly bright, but he keeps his gaze on it as he takes a few deep breaths, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Thank you for staying,” he says, eventually, looking up to him, but squeezing his other eye shut, as if it would be somehow less nerve-wracking, “I’m not taking that for granted.”

Carlos stares at him for a moment longer, studying him with his gaze, but he forces himself to not to look away. Eventually, Carlos takes a deep breath as if giving in. He drags one of the chairs closer to his bed, close enough for the other armrest to touch the edge of the bed.

“I think there’s no other place for me to be currently,” he says, calmly and simply as he sits down on the chair, “and to be fair, when I arrived, I thought you wanted me here.”

TK merely blinks at him, out of mere confusion. His words make him realise that he doesn’t even realise how Carlos ended up at the hospital. The question is on the tip of his tongue and his curiosity is peeked, but he bites his tongue because he knows that is not the most important detail to cover right now.

“Nancy called me and lied,” Carlos huffs and his gaze suddenly darts to the wall behind his bed.

TK makes the mental note to remember that he owes Nancy a dinner or maybe a fruit basket, or both. It warms his heart that she tried to have his back through everything, and he is suddenly washed with a wave of thankfulness of having friends in his life.

He flashes Carlos a rueful smile. “Not a lie.”

“Hmh.”

It feels like a start, to take the step and admit that he actually wants him there, and in his life. It’s the smallest possible step to take and his heart clenches already at it. Sudden restlessness seems to spread from his shoulders down to his hands and he isn’t sure what to do with them.

He squeezes his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms, but it doesn’t seem to help at all. He relaxes his hands and just lets them rest on his lap. It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the best he can come up with.

“I owe you an apology, and if you don’t want to talk, that’s fine, just hear me out, okay?”

The words just stumble out of his mouth, maybe a bit too quickly, but he just wants him to know that he isn’t expecting anything from him right now, he just wants the chance to apologise properly.

Carlos frowns a little, giving him a half-eyeroll as his gaze still keeps darting around the room. “You don’t have to worry, I don’t walk out on people.”

As soon as he says that, he almost winces, as if as an afterthought and TK knows him well enough to spot the traces of regret that shadow his face almost immediately.

“I deserved that,” TK points out, with a slight shrug.

It’s nowhere near the worst thing Carlos could say to him, he knows he tore his heart broken when he walked out of his life, and he still has every right to be pissed and angry, but he also knows that Carlos is far from a cruel person and when he argues, he doesn’t throw insults.

TK sighs and it hits him why his hands feel restless and like they are constantly in the wrong place. His hands itch to hold his, to connect them beyond the words, and feel and offer that comfort and love that comes from caressing and holding each other’s hands, as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

He feels hesitant just to grab his hands, something he would have done without a second thought months ago, so he just lays his left hand on the edge of the bed, palm upwards. Carlos almost immediately places his palm against it.

For a moment, they just press their hands together. TK still eventually slips his fingers in between Carlos’ and brings both of their hands on his lap. Their hands still seem to fit together and somehow that realisation brings some calmness to his heart.

“I’m so sorry for—everything,” he breathes out, pouring every ounce of regret into his words, “I know saying that isn’t enough, but I’ve regrets, and I just want you to know that I’m truly sorry.”

Carlos nods, but his movement is little stiff, and his expression is growing more pained. TK brings his other hand around Carlos’ hand too, covering it all with his palms and fingers. He still squeezes his hand lightly.

TK still isn’t sure where to start. How do you start to untangle a mess of knots when you don’t even have the end of the yarn? But he decides to start from the beginning, it feels like a logical choice.

“When I got the decision that I wasn’t qualified for the loan, I was—embarrassed. I hid the letter for two days before I could gather up the courage to tell you,” TK starts, tracing his index finger with his own, and the attempted chuckle that follows sounds wet and hollow, “I knew you wouldn’t be mad, and you reacted the exact way I thought you would, just with more love, and I still feared it would remind you of who you exactly fell in love with.”

There are plenty of people who have reduced him to only his mistakes, and he cannot blame him all. Sometimes the burden of the poor decisions and messing things up is just too heavy, something that people cannot get over and it is not easy to shake off. It’s looming and manifesting itself, again and again, in different forms.

Carlos has been aware of his baggage, every single detail of it, and he hasn’t as much as blinked when he has come face to face with it, but he hasn’t been forced to truly deal with the ugliest sides of his addiction and the mistakes he did when he was younger.

Not being able to pay for an apartment felt like a harsh and concrete reminder of it all and in the back of his mind, he feared that it would change something in the way Carlos saw him, despite all of his love and reassurances.

“TK,” Carlos sighs, heavily, but his eyes are almost shining with despair and pain, “that has never been a problem for me—”

“I know,” he says, cutting him off, almost rudely and he flashes him a sad smile, changing his tone to a softer, “I know. I feared it would become a problem, not me, but the fact that I probably couldn’t get a loan for any house or apartment, and that maybe you’d grow to resent me for that.”

All of his relationships have seemed to dissolve when it comes to the long-term future. No one has seemed to want him, and everything about him, for long term, and always, eventually, becoming too much and too heavy to deal with.

As if the truest version of himself, and his past and his demons, have managed to poison all of his relationships, from the root, and people have always pulled away sooner or later, deciding that he is not worth it anymore.

Carlos never showed any signs of it but realising that he couldn’t give him something as monumental as his dream apartment that they technically could afford, especially after violently losing the place he called his home, made him feel like he was failing him.

For nights, when Carlos slept peacefully next to him, he kept thinking about all the ways he could disappoint him in the future and what would be the last straw. Not affording for a real wedding? Not qualifying for adopting? Always halting all of his dreams and hopes? Slowly becoming more of a burden than partner in life?

He knew he was spiralling and getting ahead of himself, he tried to stop himself and get a grip. Instead of wallowing, he tried to fix it and believe that their love would be enough regardless.

“And I tried to fix it,” he tells Carlos, trying to pull himself out of looking back on the road that send him straight to his mistakes, “I sent out more loan applications, asking if there were any alternatives and—there weren’t and it was suddenly a problem I couldn’t solve.”

Carlos hangs his head, apparently avoiding his gaze in turn now.

“Until I solved it for you,” he fills in for him, sounding defeated and almost abashed.

“Yeah,” he agrees, quietly and slowly letting the air fill his lungs and hoping that talking slowly makes that empty void in his chest disappear.

“And it felt too good to be true, and I was happy and grateful, but you didn’t ask me first. You made one of the biggest problems of my life disappear without any input from me and I felt stupid and embarrassed. Maybe little patronised and like I couldn’t control my life and most of it all, it felt that we were imbalanced.”

His pace of speech is growing slower, as he figures and fumbles for the right words to voice something complicated and messy he felt months ago, and it’s increasingly difficult because he knows that in order to apologise truly and properly, he has to rip all of their scars and wounds open again, and hurt him with his words, reasoning and explanations.

His breath is getting hitched in his throat and every word he utters, seems to burn his throat because the frown between Carlos’ eyebrows is getting deeper and his body is slowly growing less still, and he knows the edges of Carlos’ walls are crumbling, and he is exuding his heartbreak with each little breath he takes.

“I know you did it only out of love and that you’d never hang it above me, but it felt like debt,” TK admits, quietly and the beeping of his heart monitor almost drowns it out, “that you had power over me.”

Carlos presses his lips together into a thin line for a moment and his expression becomes slightly unreadable, but TK knows that at least a part of that frustration and anger is still directed at him.

“I didn’t—,” Carlos starts quietly, but he just squeezes his eyes shut, and when he opens them, he immediately glances at the ceiling instead of him, “I should’ve realised.”

His breathing is getting heavier and more unsteady, as if everything he has been probably bottling up for months, is trying to find any way to get out of him, in any way possible, and the sight of it just shatters TK’s heart to even tinier pieces.

He can see the guilt starting to bubble up in him, and it’s the last thing he wants him to feel. He outreaches his arm and manages to cup the tip of his chin.

“Babe? Look at me?” TK asks, gently, almost pleadingly, to break him off from his own spiral, and he waits patiently until he locks his gaze in with his.

“Not your fault. It was lovely and really sweet, and you were trying to make me happy. I’m not trying to guilt-trip you here. I suddenly had everything, a job I loved, a home and an incredible partner who loved me and it was perfect. There’s not much else you can ask for, right?”

The only thing he would have changed about his life, their lives, was the amount of heartbreak and suffering they went through with being trapped in their burning home and trying to rebuild every part of their shared life.

Other than that, he had suddenly everything he has ever dreamed of. Love and home, someone to share his life with and someone to love and still being able to hope for more.

Carlos lets out a non-committal sound and glares at his heart-monitor instead of him.

“I—panicked,” TK breathes out, letting go off his face. “I got freaked out by all of it. It felt too good and like it was out of my control.”

Maybe the scariest part of life is getting what you want, what you have always dreamed and desired, because then the struggle and strive for it gets replaced by the doubt and fear that you will lose everything you have and be forced to start from the scratch.

He didn’t know what to do with himself or with his fears. Most of all, he was growing tired of feeling like it, always doubting himself and anticipating something terrible would happen, and take away what means the most to him and wreck his entire life again.

The last time he took the risk, he lost everything. Accepting that the person he loves the most in the world loved him enough to buy an entire apartment under both of their names to make him feel at home and happy felt too much like hopping on unstable ground that could give underneath their feet.

He knew he couldn’t survive the last straw, whatever would make Carlos change his mind about him, not after lulling himself on the idea of actually having everything he has ever wanted.  

TK’s words hang between them for a moment and the silence is becoming almost uncomfortable, but TK’s aware it is not his silence to break, even if he wants nothing more than reassure Carlos and possibly get some of those reassurances in return.

“You wanted some control back,” Carlos remarks, slowly, after several beats, lifting his eyebrows almost as if in understanding.

It is little reassuring and comforting to know that after all this time, Carlos seems still be able to follow the train of his thought and at least attempt to understand what is going on in his mind. Maybe it is because he knows him. Possibly better than anyone else.

It makes him feel bolder. TK brings their joined hands up to his mouth and places a soft and lingering kiss on the back of Carlos’ hand before he carefully lowers them back onto his lap. Carlos stays quiet, but he isn’t trying to pull his hand away.

He just blinks little more rapidly.

“I got stuck on the one thing that didn’t feel completely right,” TK clarifies, shrugging a little.

In retrospect, it’s always easy to see own mistakes, each misstep he has taken, but it is somehow easier to shed the spotlight on his own mistakes than he thought it would be. It’s still terrifying and he feels vulnerable and weak, but it’s also Carlos and he would always trust him with his heart, even with the uglier parts of it.  

“The loft,” he breathes out, leaning slightly further away from him, into the backrest.

TK just nods. He doesn’t feel like he has more words to explain it any further. He cannot deny that he wouldn’t be ashamed, and he keeps looking at the glass doors of the room instead. There are nurses walking past the room, as well as people who probably are visiting their loved ones in the ICU.

It’s somehow easier for a moment to wonder about their problems, if they have unfinished businesses, if they have manged to make a mess of their lives and relationships, blow everything up in their faces just because it’s something they have always done.

TK’s attention gets captured by Carlos again when he shifts and eventually stands up. TK almost instinctively holds his hand little tighter, fearing that he is leaving, but he only gets up to sit down on the edge of his bed again, minimising the distance between them.

It feels little unnerving, even though he is craving for his closeness, but it is still difficult to figure out what is going on in Carlos’ head. There are something akin to butterflies in his stomach when Carlos simply and loosely cups his face by holding his palm against his cheek.  

“You made yourself lose me on your own terms.”

It’s not even a question, it’s just a statement and observation, and Carlos says it almost casually. Yet, it’s accurate, accurate enough to make him feel like his heart has been pierced by an arrow of something and that Carlos still manages to see him, the truest and deepest essence of him.  

All of his walls crumble down on that second, leaving him completely bare and vulnerable, undefended and unprotected. His chest almost trembles as he tries to force himself to let air into his lungs and the burning in this throat suddenly seems to return.

“I had this twisted idea that it’s better to leave than be left,” TK says after a moment of silence, swallowing hard, “and I honestly thought that I’d mess it up sooner or later. That I couldn’t have something that good in my life.”

“Hmm.” Carlos drops his hand away, but their legs are still pressed together. He can feel the warmth radiating from him and the roughness of his jeans against his thin hospital gown despite the blanket.

It’s a quiet moment and he can hear the ticking of the clock on the wall, as if it would be mocking him for each lost second and moment and the time that he is still wasting.

He is starting to feel nauseated, his stomach keeps twisting into a knot and something threatens to rise up in his throat. His hands feel little numb and his heart is somewhere up in his throat, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he wants to escape the whole situation, avoid the pain and uncomfortableness, make him leave, but he knows that is the last thing he should do.

“And that’s where I fucked up. I should have talked to you and not to make things explode like I usually do. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s self-sabotage.”

TK tries to keep his voice light, as if he would be making a joke out of his own misery, but he fails spectacularly. His voice only manages to sound broken and full of sorrow and regret. It’s more accurate reflection of the emotional turmoil in his heart. 

Carlos just studies him with his gaze, but even if he looks like he is attempting to put together a jigsaw puzzle, his gaze is kind, and it doesn’t feel judgemental or harsh.

TK thinks it is more than he could hope for, and maybe his gentleness and kindness is somehow finding its way through his heart too, attempting to drown some of the ugliest stuff that keeps wallowing there deep in his chambers.

“And I’m sorry I wrecked your life with mine,” TK murmurs, as soon as he manages to hold his gaze and look straight into his eyes, “and my biggest regret is that I had your heart in my hands and I did a horrible and ugly thing to it.”

For a lingering second, something hardens in his deep brown eyes and the corner of his mouth puckers, but then all of it is replaced by bottomless sadness and hurt that keeps flickering on his face as clearly as fireworks against a bright night sky.

“You broke it,” he says, as calmly as before, under his breath, but it manages to sound like a challenge, too.

Challenge for him to own up and admit that it is exactly what he did. TK knows it is the truth. He has been aware of it since he walked out on him, cutting everything into pieces between them, and it’s the biggest reason why he has tried to avoid seeing and talking to him for these months.  

His own guilt has been weighing him down, eating him alive surely and slowly, and avoiding has felt like the best and easiest solution, but he guesses it is not supposed to be easy and light and breezy when one hurts the other half of their heart.

Healing takes effort, energy and intention, and he knows from experience that healing of wounds might be just as unpleasant as getting them in the first place. They flash with pain, ache somewhere deep, and itch constantly, as something new is being created.

Maybe the same applies with relationships and he knows he is ready to do anything to make it all up to him and possibly get a second chance of continuing where they left off before he made everything crumble, even if it feels like he has to carve out his own heart in the process of that.

“I did,” he breathes out, heavily and huffs little harshly, “and it’s like you said, you should believe when people show you who they are.”

Carlos looks little taken aback. “You heard that?”

It’s an offhand comment and TK decides to ignore it now, if Carlos decides to stay, then he can tell and ramble all about his coma dream and that he did hear him, and that his voice helped to guide him back, no matter how angry he sounded and that he made good points and that all of his anger and annoyance is justified.

“I’ve no excuses, this is who I am, I mess up and I run when things get tough,” TK says, quietly, as he tilts his head and glances towards the ceiling little defeatedly, “in some twisted way, I tried to protect myself, and I—ended up hurting us both and breaking all of my promises to you.”

When it truly sank in that everything between them was over, it got to him the most. The promises and becoming someone opposite of all of those promises. Promises of not to hurt him, promises to keep loving him through everything and promises of being fully on board when it comes to them. Promises of the future they suddenly didn’t have anymore.

“You said you didn’t want me in your life,” Carlos says, suddenly, looking at his own knees, and TK is entirely sure that the little crack he hears is his own heart. “It felt like you didn’t love me. Or that you never did as much as I did you.”

TK thinks that he might actually be physically sick this time, the guilt and regret are churning through his stomach, and maybe it’s the exhaustion, but his vision gets little blurry on the edges. He tries to blink all of it away and he hopes he could hug him, hold him, but he knows he cannot get himself up yet.

Instead, he just squeezes his hand, caresses the lines of his thumb and his nailbed and tries to pour every ounce of his love into the way he holds his hand in his.

“That was the biggest lie I’ve ever told you,” he says, bringing his hands up to his mouth again, murmuring the words against his skin. “And I’m so sorry for making you ever feel like that. It wasn’t the truth for me, but I get that you’re angry, you’ve every right to be. I just wanted to apologise, but I know it’s a lot.”

“It’s a lot,” Carlos echoes, almost immediately, still looking at his own feet. It’s hard to tell if his eyes are glimmering more than before or not, but he sounds tired and exhausted.

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me immediately,” TK reassures, kissing the joints of his fingers slowly and gently, “or at all. I’m not even expecting you to take me back. I get it if it’s the last thing you want to do.”

“TK--,” Carlos starts, sighing and rubbing the space between his eyebrows, but his voice eventually just fades away.

“You don’t have to say anything right now,” he murmurs, as reassuringly and softly as he can, even though it feels like his heart is tearing apart, as he kisses his pulse point on his wrist, “it’s complicated and you’ve had a long day.”

Carlos finally turns his head to look at him and he blinks little furiously, but he lets out a sound that almost sounds like a light chuckle. “That feels like an understatement.”

He thinks their discussion has bared both of their hearts, raw and in the open, and that now they are just checking if they manage to get back in sync with their heart beats.

“You can go home,” he says, placing a one last kiss on the edge of his palm, barely grazing his skin with his lips, “shower and sleep and maybe eat something else than hospital cafeteria’s food.”

TK’s aware that Carlos doesn’t need his permission to do anything, but he just wants him to know that he is allowed to take time and space for himself, that he won’t take it as an abandonment. TK also just wants to take care of him, he looks miserable and fatigued, and he doesn’t want him to burn himself to the ground because of him.

Carlos just shakes his head. “I don’t want to do that.”

TK isn’t sure what answer he was expecting, but he isn’t surprised that he doesn’t want to leave. He cannot imagine the terror and fear Carlos must have gone through when he almost died in front of his eyes and when the doctors kept telling that he wouldn’t pull it through, and maybe getting a concrete proof and reminder that he is alive and awake is what he needs.

He seems shaken up in a way TK cannot even quite describe, and regardless of how they will continue, he thinks it is something they need to talk about, sooner or later.

“What do you want to do?” he asks, softly.

TK knows there is not much he can give to him right now. He is stuck in the bed and exhaustion keeps him as a prisoner and he thinks he might fall asleep soon, all of his energy has been sucked right out of him, but he wants to try.

“Hold you,” Carlos admits, looking at him again, and there is sincerity and sorrow equally in his voice.

There is no way TK can say no to that, and he doesn’t want to say no, and it’s actually something he can do for him. He still has Carlos’ hand in his, so he yanks him closer, and suddenly Carlos’ hands are around him, similarly as when he gained his consciousness. TK breathes in his scent again and tries to stroke the base of his skull, comfortingly and lovingly.

They are quiet, but TK thinks they don’t need words for it, just for existing side by side, and doing something as simple as holding each other. Touch is something they have always used to convey their love, and TK cannot say he wouldn’t feel loved, even if it’s mostly just to comfort each other and offer proof that they are both really there.

Carlos shifts and TK thinks he might pull away from him, but instead he just turns his head slightly, brushing his earlobe with his lips. TK isn’t sure if it is an accident or not, but he isn’t complaining.

“You know you’re more than the sum of your mistakes,” Carlos whispers, into his ear, as if it was something he has always known to be true.

TK doesn’t have words for that. Not anything to show his gratefulness or show that his words somehow manage to soothe some hidden part in his heart, so he just kisses his cheek and hugs him little tighter.

***

The next time TK gets his eyes open, he truly is alone in the room. He isn’t sure if he is relieved or disappointed, but being alone gives him a small moment just to breathe and listen to his body without trying to pretend anything else but a person whose body has almost shut down.

His newfound loneliness lasts only a couple of moments before a nurse arrives again to run some more blood tests. The nurse seems lovely and friendly enough, introducing herself as one of her new nurses, saying that the other two will pop by when their shifts start, as she finishes drawing blood for the last tube.

“What happened to the previous ones?” he asks, almost jokingly.

He doesn’t remember any other nurses except the one from MRI and he doesn’t think it would be worth to specify to him that he has different people taking care of him when he has absolutely no knowledge of the previous ones and he is aware that there are a lot of people working in the ICU.

“We got a complaint,” she tells, simply as she starts pack up her equipment back into the trolley that she brought to the room and places his tubes of blood into the rack. She glances towards the door, and it is only then that TK realises that Carlos is lingering in the doorway with a duffel bag. “You got people looking out for you.”

She leaves swiftly and quietly with her trolley, but she does flash a wide smile to Carlos in the doorway and he almost seems to return it.

TK is happy to notice that Carlos has probably visited home. He has changed his clothes. The jeans could be the same as before, but he is wearing a dark red sweater and his hair looks almost damp, as if he has left straight after coming out from a shower and he looks more clean-shaven.

TK just hopes he has caught some sleep too and possibly eaten something, too.

“Have you been complaining about my nurses?” TK asks, still little amusedly, when Carlos walks up to his bed, placing in the duffel bag near his feet on the bed.

The idea that he might have been looking out for him, even before he got the chance to apologise and reassure that he wants him in his life, warms his heart a lot more than he could put into words, but he is also little curious. Carlos isn’t one to file complaints over nothing.  

“They deserved it,” he says simply, without elaborating it any further, as he zips the black duffel bag open, “I brought you some things.”

The bag seems to be full, and Carlos pulls out a real blanket, lot softer and warmer than hospital’s ones are. There are one of his own hoodies and pairs of his own socks. There is another hoodie, dark green one, and TK knows it’s actually Carlos’ hoodie, and he doesn’t even try to hide his smile when Carlos keeps piling the things into a closet in the corner of his room.

There are his phone charger and headphones, and package of green tea that he likes to drink and some of his favourite snacks, green olives with citrus filling and a few bags of crisps and wasabi peas. The last thing Carlos pulls out of the bag is a paperback.

TK has to crane his neck to make out the title, but he instantly recognises it. It’s one of Carlos’ books, one of those that he said he would read at some point because it seemed interesting. He isn’t sure if Carlos remembers it or if he just randomly picked a book to help pass the time.

“You’re sweet,” he says, offering a soft smile at him, “but I don’t think I really have the energy or focus to read right now.”

Carlos bends down over him again, just to kiss his forehead and when he straightens up, he is grinning. “Who says it is for you? There is only so many hours I can just watch you sleep without getting bored.”

“Right,” he shoots back, sputtering out a light laughter and rolls his eyes, “I’m pretty sure you exceeded that limit long time ago.”

There is familiarity in joking, falling and slipping back into what they once were, and it feels good and right, but it also makes his heart ache, because he isn’t sure if it is something he can actually have or if it is just an echo of the past that they share.

“Maybe,” Carlos admits, a smile still dancing on his lips as he sits down on the chair and little uncertainty shadows his face. “Honestly, I thought I could read that to you if you have—trouble falling asleep.”

TK thinks his heart might burst from the affection and love it is trying to hold in. It’s sweet that he cares and is already anticipating the sleeping difficulties that will arrive sooner or later, new things to have nightmares about, and he never sleeps well in hospitals.

Right now, his sleep is dreamless, and it comes and goes, luckily. Yet he knows that nightmares will plague his sleep as soon as his sleeping returns to normal, and he has always been comforted by Carlos’ voice when sleeping is difficult.

Usually, Carlos has been just whispering sweet nothings and reassurances, and those have helped, his soft and low voice lulling him into some sort feeling of safety and that helps him sleep. He is touched by the fact that Carlos seemed to think about that possibility and figure out yet another way to offer him some comfort.

It also sounds as if he plans to stick around and TK tries to keep his hopes down, just because he wants to visit him in the hospital doesn’t mean anything else.

TK is tempted to make some joke about boring himself to sleep, but he doesn’t have the heart to do that. Instead, he just smiles at him happily and pokes the hard mattress underneath him. “Thank you.”

Carlos just waves his hand, little dismissively as if it would be a small thing. His gaze darts towards the monitors that are surrounding him, and TK doesn’t blame him. The doctors have told that he is showing promising signs of recovering completely, but he isn’t completely out of the woods yet.

“You came back,” TK points out, half to pull Carlos away from thinking too much about his state and condition, and half because he has little hard time believing it and his mind is already trying to figure out the implications of it.

“I did,” Carlos remarks, effortlessly, but he finally looks at him.

His eyes are less red than before, but the warmth is still there, as well as is the curiosity, the need to figure things out. Even though his gaze is soft, and he looks at him like he would be worthy of the fuss and worry, TK feels little self-conscious, reaching to fix the stupid nasal cannula that he still needs.

“I’m not expecting you to have an answer yet,” TK rushes to say, because the silence is starting to feel expectant and the last thing he wants to do is to pressure Carlos.

Really, he is just grateful that he is there. Everything else can wait, and maybe little selfishly he doesn’t want to hear him say that he doesn’t want to try again. Better to live in hope than in despair.

Carlos’ expression is unreadable again. It’s little challenging to tell if he has even made up his mind yet, but there is something stand-offish about the way he looks at the edge of the bed. The remnants of the anger and hurt are still there.

“I have questions.”

It isn’t exactly what he expected him to say, but he guesses it is fair. He is resisting the urge to touch him again, so he just presses his palms against the mattress. He hopes he has answers to give him, and that his answers don’t hurt him any further.

“Okay,” he says, nodding towards him, “anything.”

Carlos curls his own fingers around the sleeve of his sweater and little absentmindedly pushes it up and down back again and his eyes dart a little bit, but eventually he looks up to him. His expression is almost blank, but TK can tell there is a lot going underneath the façade of pretending to be slightly nonchalant.

“Do you still love me?”

It breaks his heart that Carlos even has to ask that and doubt something that is so strong and effortless and obvious to him.

“More than anything,” he replies, honestly and without missing a beat, “and for the record, I never stopped at any point.”

Carlos immediately looks away from him, turning his head completely away from him, and stares at the corner of the room. He inhales sharply and it catches TK little off-guard and forces him to realise that Carlos really believed that his love would have disappeared and evaporated somewhere.

His own eyes start to sting, and the bile rises up in his throat again. He hates everything about the situation, and he thinks the amount of guilt he feels might bury him alive. He is willing to do anything to take even a fraction of his pain away.

He reaches to touch his arm, but his fingertips only brush the fabric of his sweater. It’s knitted and soft, but it leaves him for yearning more because he needs to reach out to him. “Hey—it would be impossible for me not to—love you.”

TK is aware it’s just words. Possibly meaningless words right now even though he means them from the bottom of his heart, and it is the truth for him, but he doesn’t blame Carlos if he has hard time believing him right now.

His words feel less than eloquent and inadequate to describe any of the love he is feeling for him. He swallows and brushes his sweater again. “You’re part of my heart, my love for you is part of me, it’s written into the essence of me, intertwined in every chamber and artery and vein. It wouldn’t be what it is without it. It wouldn’t function.”

Maybe it’s too sappy, but he means it, and if there is anyway he can reassure him that he loves him, truly and completely, he wants to do it.

Carlos hangs his head, looking at his own palms now. “That,” he says, looking up, flashing him a tiny smile, “doesn’t sound very medically accurate.”

TK cannot help but mirror his smile and blink at him little tiredly. He waves his hand vaguely, gesturing between them and the air at the same time. “Medicine is different than love.”

Carlos nods vaguely towards him, as if he would agree, but his smile is still a rare sight, like bright rays of sunshine among the dark clouds, only occasionally appearing. He is pressing his thumb in the middle of his palm, really digging it in there.

“Were you—unhappy?”

The way he says it is less harsh and the question itself is filled with more uncertainty. It still breaks TK’s heart nevertheless, but he gets why he is asking it, even after all the explanations he offered him earlier.

“No,” he replies, softly, shaking his head, “the opposite of it.”

TK’s aware it makes very little sense, and he isn’t sure if it is the reply Carlos hoped to hear or not. Maybe it would have been easier to deal with the breakup if they had seriously been unhappy and just hanging onto something that wasn’t working, but it isn’t what happened.

They were happy and then they weren’t.

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek, almost frowning as he takes in his reply. He nods a couple of times, inhaling sharply through his nose and tension is building up in his body, especially in his shoulders, and TK resists the urge to tell him to relax and breathe again.

Carlos sighs deeply, stretching his neck to both sides quickly. He seems to be deep in his thought, staring at nothing in particular, but when he does look at him, his eyes are still shining with all the hurt and upset that are still simmering somewhere deep.  

“Did you really think that I’d just wake up one day and decide that you’re not worth of everything and that I’d not want you anymore?”

It’s a terrible question. The way he asks it makes it sound as if he didn’t trust him enough to love him and the idea of that pains TK, it creates uneasiness in his chest and it keeps spreading around his ribs, and he knows it is only because he had trouble trusting his love and affection.

“I don’t know,” he sighs, little frustratedly, biting his lower lip and glancing at him. “Maybe. The last time I felt happy and secure in my relationship, it ended up being the complete opposite of it. It wrecked my life. But—it wasn’t on you. That’s just—trauma, I think? And everything of it is in here.”

TK pokes his own forehead and Carlos’ frown gets deeper. He drums his knee with his fingers, and his eyes are still shining, but his mask is slipping slowly and surely. This time Carlos reaches his hand out, slowly picking up his hand in his.

“I didn’t even think about that,” he admits, dismally, as he changes the way he holds his hand, making his hold gentler. He sighs deeply and remorse is laced into it. “I’m really sorry for going behind your back with the loft. I should’ve asked and realised that you might feel—differently and react.”

Logically, TK knew that the breakup needed two people, but he has carried his own guilt and regret and the whole weight of blame for months and it feels unexpectedly good and soothing to hear him apologize too, and his words are healing a part of him that he didn’t even know was wounded and hurting.

He has to blink to get rid of the burning on his eyes again and something inside of him is crumbling. “I adored the place,” he says, gently, “and I loved you. It was never about the lack of those.”

Excess of those might have been the thing that trigged his fears and made him run. Having all of that love and still wanting more of it and never wanting to run out of it was a terrifying realisation and maybe it was enough to knock him off his axis and send him spiralling and reeling.  

“It’s still ours,” Carlos muses, but he looks as if he thinks he said something wrong and he ends up shaking his head and running his thumb along the back of TK’s hand, “and I never tried to make it into any sort of power play. The paperwork says it’s ours both. The origin of the money makes no difference and I’d have never--”

“I know,” he says, gently, but decisively and cutting him off before he gets the chance to ramble on for more and he doesn’t want him to think he would have thought anything truly horrible about him, “you were trying to give me a home.”

In his head, that is what it comes down to. Carlos was willing to offer him a home, something permanent and steady and good, and he was unwilling to accept it because he feared it wouldn’t end up lasting in any case.

Carlos smiles at him. It’s a tiny smile, barely even there, but the corners of his mouth are curling upwards and the spark in his eyes is gentler and calmer, and maybe for the first time in months, they are completely on the same page when it comes to them.

It’s a hopeful thing to realise, that they have managed to find each other again, and talk about things, even if they are just scraping the surface of all that there is to talk about. It’s not as daunting to think about when he knows he doesn’t have to go through all of that alone.

“Admittedly not the best way to do it,” Carlos remarks, letting out a huff that sounds more of a chuckle before he kisses his palm, and it seems as if he is about to say something, but his one kiss turns into series of brief and warm kisses. “I’m sorry for not considering your feelings in that moment and I’m sorry for not realising that you were struggling with your past.”

TK leans in more to the pillow underneath his head. It’s flat and uncomfortable, but it is better than nothing. He stares at the clock again, the way the second pointer of it seems to move on smoothly and without stopping.

His daydreaming about forgiveness always focused more on Carlos’ forgiveness than to this own, and he knows he doesn’t really have to consider whether he has in his heart to forgive him or not, but he wants to appreciate and cherish the feeling of lightness that it brings into his heart.

It’s freeing not to hold grudges or hurt about anything.

“I’m pretty sure I can forgive you for that,” TK murmurs, with a lopsided smile and his happiness sparkles where the void is getting smaller, “you’re a doer, if you can fix something, you will. Especially if you love the person.”

He is first one willing to admit that he got blinded by his own fears and upset and forgot to see through all of that, to see Carlos, for who he truly is and what he tried to achieve and intend with the loft, and maybe that was his biggest mistake, really. To forget who he fell in love with.

“I guess we both failed to be what each other needed.”

TK wants to think that it is that simple, that they both took missteps, ended up on different paths and in amidst of it all, they lost each other. He wishes they wouldn’t have lost each other in the first place, not even momentarily, but it feels like something they could fix.

Find their way back to each other again. 

“Clearly,” he remarks, little amusedly, even though he agrees with him completely.

He expects Carlos to smile or at least roll his eyes at him, but instead his expression grows a little more serious and vulnerable. Whatever wall he has attempted to keep up, the one that was definitely there when they bumped into each other at the furniture store, is gone.

It’s just them, again.

“It’s still a yes,” Carlos murmurs, as he lets go off his hand. He doesn’t drop it, he carefully and tenderly places it on the mattress. He slides little closer to the edge of the chair, and he looks at him as if he was the only thing in the world worth looking at.

TK thinks the fogginess returns to his brain at the same second.

“What?”

“For trying,” he clarifies, almost effortlessly, with a little innocent shrug, as if he wasn’t talking about something significant and profound.

“Really?”

It’s the answer he hoped to get, that he is willing to take him back and still love him despite of everything and that he gets the chance to love him back in a way he deserves and maybe the blinding and warm happiness returns to both of their lives.

Yet, he thought it might take some time.

He broke his heart, and he broke the trust between them, and he thought it might take some time of talking things through and maybe proving that he is going to stick around for good and just make him feel good and appreciated and relearn each other in the process of it.

After all of that, he thought he might get a chance.

TK guesses his confusion is visibly written across his expression because Carlos settles little better in the edge of his seat and tilts his head to the side.  

“I think we simply love each other too much for not to try and we haven’t been happy for the past months. And I saw you almost die. Thinking that I was going to lose you for good--,” he says, but his voice trails completely away and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, “it gives perspective, and I don’t want to waste the time we’re given.”

Carlos sounds as if he has put some thought into it and TK recognises his own feelings in his words. He has learned something new from every near-death experience he has had, and he has always changed something about his life because nearly dying gives clarity, to life decisions and people around him.

It acts as a wake-up call.

He is entirely sure that they wouldn’t have had any version of the same conversation, offered apologies and explanations, if it wasn’t for the storm and his hypothermia. He would have been too much of a coward to reach out and ask for him to hear him out.

TK isn’t sure if he believes in divine intervention, but he is willing to admit that maybe Austin freezing over was some sort of sign, or gentle nudge, from the universe into the right direction, even though he wishes it would have included little less mortal danger.

Yet, he frowns.

He doesn’t want it to be only reason they are getting back together, that they both got scared and spooked of something that didn’t eventually and luckily even happen. Fear of losing things is what got them into this mess in the first place and he doesn’t think fear and worry is a good base for starting to re-build their relationship.

It needs to be on something else than that. Love, hopefully.

Since he is sitting on the edge of the chair, this time TK manages to reach out and cup his face with his hand. It’s very loosely, his fingers still feel little stiff, and he movements come across as little awkward and clumsy, still.

Carlos doesn’t seem to mind any of that.

“You can forgive me?”

It is a question that has been haunting his mind since they broke up. For most of the time, he thinks he has known the answer, and it has been the thing that has been holding him back, from reaching out and from even attempting to apologise.

It has kept him up at night and cracked his heart into almost indistinguishable pieces, and now, there Carlos is, sitting by his bedside and implying that all of his fears and anxieties are just in his head and that the opposite of it is true.

That forgiveness is not something that is out of question when it comes to him.

“Mhhm,” he hums, gently as he turns his head just slightly to kiss his palm again, “already starting to.”

It sounds so simple and straightforward. It takes a short moment for his words and the implication of them to hit in, but when they do, his sight gets blurred by a few hot tears and only one of them manages to escape the corner of his eye as he blinks furiously.

TK is little speechless, the waves of gratefulness and love are not giving him any mercy or chance to catch his breath. He brushes his cheek, tracing some sort of invisible line between two of his moles, one near the corner of his eye and another near his chin, connecting them.

“I know my word probably doesn’t weigh very much right now, but I promise I won’t run away again, not like that,” he manages to eventually vow, and it instantly feels inadequate.

There are a lot more things he wants to promise him again, promises he intends to keep this time. There are probably enough things to compile a whole list of promises and he thinks it might be something he wants to write down.

But in that moment, in the relative calmness of ICU ward’s room 308, it feels enough to promise that he isn’t going to repeat one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

“It weighs a lot,” Carlos remarks, sounding surprisingly serious about it, even though his laugh lines appear in the corner of his eyes as he says it.

It might be more than he deserves, TK thinks, but it’s still a good starting point, and he cannot say it wouldn’t feel good to know that at least some of that trust seems to be there, still intact and not completely destroyed.

“And I know I have to earn your trust back,” he adds, feeling the urge to say it aloud, but he drops his hand away from his face, “and I’ll do anything to get it back, no matter how long it takes.”

He guesses that is another promise.

Carlos’ smile isn’t dazzling, but it is brighter and happier than he has seen in ages, and it isn’t a horrible realisation to know that he is still able to make him smile like that.

That maybe their spark didn’t disappear anywhere.

“Likewise.”

***

“You’re starin’,” Carlos murmurs, his eyes closed, but still apparently sensing his gaze, and as a tiny smile twitches in the corner of his mouth.

It’s past midnight, most of the lights of the ICU ward have been turned off, there is only slight glow of yellowish light flooding into his room from in between the curtained screens that are supposed to give some sort of illusion of privacy.

It’s quiet, if TK doesn’t count the constant beeping of the monitors that are still connected to him with tubes and cords. He can hear the faint chatter of the nurses that walk past his room and static of some radio, but he can easily block them away.

“Can you blame me?” TK huffs, softly, trying to shift into a more comfortable position on the unyielding hospital mattress.

There are still few extra pillows on his bed and the blanket Carlos had brought earlier is a lot softer and thicker than the bright blue one he had before, but it still isn’t his own bed and his whole body aches. He doesn’t know how to relax on it, even if his mind is still drowsy.

He knows he has a good reason for staring.

Carlos has seemingly decided to camp out on one of the chairs for the night. He has his feet propped up somewhere in the structures of his hospital bed and he is hugging his arms close to his chest as he leans into the backrest of the armchair.

His jacket is hanging over the armrest and it looks incredibly uncomfortable position to even attempt to sleep, but he seems determined, and he hasn’t uttered one complaint, and TK hasn’t even tried to tell him that he doesn’t need to do that.

He has a growing suspicion that Carlos is doing it as much for himself as for him. Being the doors of death startled them both, but he knows it was different for Carlos, he had to witness it and live through every excruciating moment filled with fear.

He knows it’s something they need to talk about some point, but right now, he doesn’t want to deny him any fraction or ounce of comfort and reassurances that he can offer to him.

Honestly, he needs the reassurances, too.

It feels little like Carlos is a mirage image. If he stops staring at him, he might disappear, like a fraction of his imagination. It’s hard to believe that he is there and that he wants to be there, and that he still wants him, despite, everything and that he seems nothing but content and willing to give them another chance.  

TK’s aware it isn’t that simple. There are still things they need to talk through, bare even more sore and painful parts of their hearts to each other, and build back the trust, and that it will take time and effort.

He is more than willing to put in the work for all of it and he is convinced they can mend it, in the end, and maybe end up even stronger and more solid than they were before.

It’s comforting thought, too. So, maybe he wants to keep his gaze on Carlos, to reassure that tiny and persistent voice in the back of his head keeps insisting that he doesn’t deserve this. It’s easier to drown out that voice when he sees him, because his heart clenches with joy and love, and it is relief to know that he doesn’t have to hide it any longer.

That he doesn’t have to pretend as if his love for him wouldn’t be what makes up most for his heart, that it wouldn’t be intertwined into the essence of him somewhere deep behind his sternum, and just knowing that he doesn’t have to deny that part of himself makes breathing little easier.

It’s good that he can do something with that love, instead of trying to bottle it up. It makes him feel more whole and looking at him might be the simplest form of that love that is trying to spill out of him now that he is letting it run freely again.

Looking at him isn’t really a challenge, either. Somehow, even in the dimness of the hospital room and after a bunch of badly slept nights, he still manages to look little ethereal. His curls are refusing to stay on the top of his head, they are unruly and falling on his forehead like a waterfall, and the dark blue sweater he is wearing looks soft and warm, but he has still rolled his sleeves up.

It would be a lot harder to look away.

“I can hear you think, too,” Carlos points out, opening his eyes and slowly blinking at him.

There is easiness in the way he says it, and the familiarity of it makes his heart ache pleasantly. It’s something he has missed and yearned. The chance of just to be himself and have someone know him, inside and out, and be without any sort of pretences.

It’s an observation, but it is a question too, and TK cannot deny that he wouldn’t have been deep in his thoughts for most of the day. Being stuck in a hospital bed gives nothing but space and time for his mind to wander, and he has a lot on his mind.

“Just wondering how one makes it up for the love of their life for breaking their heart,” he replies, quietly, and trying to smooth a few wrinkles out of his blanket before he looks back up and flashes him a tiny rueful smile, “there isn’t really a wiki-how article for all of it.”

He didn’t really let himself think about getting back together. It felt too distant and impossible thing to happen and when he thought about it, it only pained him and shattered his heart furthermore. He didn’t have a plan for any sort of reconciliation, for making up, because he was entirely sure he wasn’t deserving of a second chance.

Now that he has it, he wants to do it right. It helps, to have Carlos there, smiling at him softly and lovingly, like nothing has changed, but he has hard time trying to get past of all the hurt he caused to him, the pain he put him through, and he cannot undo it, but he wants to make it up to him.

Show him how much he truly loves him and put his apologises into actions too, make him feel loved and appreciated and cherished.

Carlos doesn’t seem to appreciate his joke. His smile falters and a frown soon takes its place, and he places his feet back on the ground, leaning closer to him.   

“You say that as if your heart didn’t get broken, too,” he remarks, gently, but there is curiosity in his voice, too, as if he has once again found a puzzle piece that doesn’t seem to fit into an already finished jigsaw puzzle.

“It did,” TK breathes out, honestly, but he hates that a hint of frustration creeps into his voice, “but you cannot say I’d not have to do some grovelling.”

Just because they are back together, and he gets to love him again, and be in the receiving end of his love, doesn’t mean that the hurt and pain would just evaporate into thin air. It will be something that haunts him, keeps reminding him of its existence.

Maybe only time will make it disappear, heal the last of their wounds, but he thinks he cannot do just nothing. He isn’t sure how to make it up, he has no concrete plan, but he wants to show his love and appreciation even more than usually. Offer all the reassurances and comfort that he can.

“I can because you don’t,” he replies, decisively and simply. He places his hand in his lap, on top of his lower stomach, near his hip, and strokes it slowly and carefully with his thumb, “you messed up, but we didn’t break up solely because of you and it doesn’t mean there would be certain amount of sins to atone and that fixing this would be on you alone.”

TK just hums because he doesn’t have the words to reply to that. Thinking about it in terms of blame is maybe, in retrospect especially, dumb and doesn’t help anything, but in his head, the blame lies with him, and he remembers the anger and upset of Carlos’ monologue by his bedside, even though he tried to block it out.

But it is there, in the back of his mind, reminding how much he hurt him. As is the memory of him stuttering and trying his best not to look at him in the furniture store, just attempting to do his job and get away from him as soon as possible.

Hurt that he wants to undo, in any possible way.

“It’s on both of us,” Carlos continues, more softly than before, ending up resting his hand on his hip, “and we both need to make it up by trying and loving each other.”

TK exhales deeply, it still sends a faint flash of pain along his side, but he doesn’t have the energy to care about it anymore. The pain and tremors are becoming harder to ignore by each day, and ache is providing background to each moment of his day, even though he is slowly gathering his strength back.

Through his side pain, his broken ribs healing, he can begrudgingly admit that maybe Carlos has a point, that it has to be a joint effort, and that if he rustles up all the responsibility of making it better, he actually takes something away from Carlos.

Maybe that, more than anything else, would be giving him power over him.

“Maybe,” he huffs, after a beat, attempting to glare at him but his attempt fails spectacularly when he places his hand on top of his and the small smile just breaks on his face, “but I’m still doing something nice to you as soon as I get out of here.”

Carlos’ surprised and sputtered light and brief laughter might be the best thing he has heard in a while.

“I can live with that.”

***

It’s closer to four am and neither of them is sleeping. His own sleepiness comes and goes, unsteadily and unpredictably still, and something is keeping Carlos up.

Possibly the fact that he is still stubbornly trying to sleep in the armchair instead of going home and sleeping in his own bed.

There are dark shadows under his eyes and his eyes are redder than before, and just every little thing about him is screaming exhaustion. It pains TK to see him like this, even if he almost always ends up in similar state when he finds himself in a hospital bed.

Yet, on this night he seems to be more in his own thoughts than usually. He is slouching on the chair, his gaze glued to the doorway and his elbow is propped against the armrest and he covers his entire mouth with his palm.

TK likes to think he can read him, that the skill of it comes with knowing and loving him, and he thinks he is not too far off when he thinks that Carlos isn’t acting like himself right now. He is withdrawn, undoubtedly trying to keep something inside of him, and he has even dragged his chair little further away from his bed.

Carlos is there, but at the same time he seems to be miles away, somewhere deep in his own mind. TK cannot really blame him, he has been through a lot lately, traumatic and difficult things, and the pain of that still obviously lingers in him.

It just bothers him that Carlos is trying to hide all of that away, especially from him, as if his hospital room wouldn’t be big enough for both of their feelings and suffering, and most importantly, for their love.

Carlos had seemed okay when he arrived back to the hospital in the evening. Flashing him smiles, cracking a few jokes, kissing his forehead and offering him updates on everyone else’s life, about Paul being discharged and showing him a few pics of baby Ryder.

But as the night fell, he grew quieter. TK tried to give him the space to feel whatever it is that is on his heart and weighing him down. He even eventually fell asleep, catching a few hours of restless sleep, but when he woke up, Carlos seemed to have spiralled deeper into himself.

TK loathes it. He simply hates that some of that suffering might be because of him, directly and indirectly, and he hates that he is still stuck in the hospital, forcing Carlos to be there too, and that he cannot comfort him in a way that he normally would when it would be just the two of them and he could actually cross the distance to him.

He sighs softly, but Carlos pays no attention to it. His gaze stays absolutely glued to somewhere near the door.

“Are you okay?” TK eventually asks, when he cannot put up with doing nothing any longer and his uneasiness is starting to resemble a physical feeling inside of his ribcage.

His voice is a whisper, but it still seems loud in the calmness and quietness of the room, echoing between them, until Carlos looks at him, smiling.

The smile seems genuine, but it is dim and shadowed by the exhaustion, and possibly anxiousness.

“I’m not the one in hospital bed,” he remarks, with a half-shrug, and lets his hand hang over the armrest.

TK just studies him with his gaze and ends up pointing at him with his finger lazily. “That’s not an answer.”

It’s not a proper answer at least, just a way to deflect the real answer, and maybe he isn’t physically hurt as he is, but TK thinks his answer actually reveals that whatever he is feeling, he is trying to hide it away from him, to make his stay in hospital easier, and not to burden him with something else and TK is having none of it.

He patiently stares at him until Carlos sighs and shrugs again, but now his attention is captured by the armrest, and he slides his fingers along the wooden surface of it. “Better than before.”

TK wants to argue that it doesn’t require much. Even he is better than days before and having a someone to visit in the hospital, instead of holding a vigil to someone, is infinitely better and they are in the process of forgiving each other, finally healing some of the deepest cuts that the break-up caused.

But he appreciates that Carlos isn’t flat out lying to him or even insisting that everything is alright. The fact that he doesn’t even throw around the word okay and try to steer the conversation away from him reveals to him how much not okay he is in that moment.

TK’s heart breaks for him.

“You know you don’t have to put up a brave face for me, right?”

Carlos has the sense to look little abashed as he stares at the end of his hospital bed, but there is softness in the way the corners of his mouth curl into a tiny and grateful smile.  

“I know.”

He sounds sure of it, like it’s something he can fall on to, and TK loves it. He knows it might take some time more before Carlos is ready to open up about everything. Especially about the heartbreak that he created for him, but he is willing to wait and just be there for him in the meantime.

TK pulls the thicker blanket away from his legs and drags himself to the edge of the bed. The railing near the head end of the bed is digging into his shoulder, but he doesn’t care. The bed is narrow but moving creates some space on it.

“Come here?” he asks, softly, gesturing towards the bed.

He still isn’t sure about what Carlos made the complaint about, all he knows is that none of the nurses have even attempted to kick him out of the hospital room, even though the ICU ward has set visiting times, he is pretty sure of it.

One of the nurses even mentioned in the passing that they are trying to figure out if they could bring another bed to the room, just so that Carlos wouldn’t have to sleep in the armchair when he spends the night there.

Carlos doesn’t have to be asked twice. He kicks off his shoes, and TK thinks they slide off underneath his bed, and he shrugs off the dark green jacket he has still been wearing.

He lies down next to him and as soon as he does, TK settles the blanket on top of both of their feet, trying to cover as much as he can and make the narrow bed with the hard mattress even a bit more comfortable for both of them.

He kisses Carlos’ shoulder and temple, and maybe he is just imagining it, but he thinks that some of the tension seems to leave his body as he settles better next to him and sort of melts against his shoulder as TK picks up his hand in his.

TK starts to draw invisible patterns on the back of his hand, merely dragging his thumb along it, taking curves and occasionally tracing his veins that are visible. It’s not much and he hopes he could do more, but he is little glad when twenty minutes later, Carlos’ breathing turns heavier and steadier and he falls asleep against his shoulder.

***

In the morning, after he has tried to get some of the hospital’s breakfast down with poor success, one of the nurses pops by, smiling almost as brightly as the sun, to let him know that his latest lab results show that he is out of the woods when it comes to kidney issues.

It’s one of the last things they have been keeping an eye on, one of the last things that threatened his full recovery from the hypothermia. It’s a relief to hear, and happiness and joy are strongest things he can feel, both of them bubbling in his chest, and the question about getting discharged is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies down when he catches a glimpse of Carlos.

He is standing further away, near the windows, as he always does when the doctors and nurses come to see him unless he specifically asks to stay by his side and hold his hand. TK expects him to mirror the smile on his face, maybe laugh a little out of relief.

But he is standing his back towards him, looking out of the windows, and his arms are crossed across his chest, but the way his fingers clutch to the fabric his red sweater, it looks more as if he is hugging himself. His body seems completely rigid.

TK is willing to bet everything that there are silent tears falling down his cheeks and that he is trying to hold it in and hide it.

TK knows that all of his questions can wait in that moment. He just thanks the nurse for the bit of good news and says that he will ask more questions when they come to take the next blood tests, saying that he wants to rest a bit now.

It’s an excuse, really. He just wants to clear out the room from everyone else, give that illusion of privacy again, and he is grateful when the nurse leaves swiftly with his breakfast tray.

Carlos doesn’t move, even though he probably hears the nurse’s footsteps growing fainter and that the chatting stops. It takes some energy and embarrassingly long, but TK manages to pull himself into a sitting position on his bed.  

His blankets are a mess, some of them still tangled into his feet, and he spots his headphones in between them, too, but he cares about none of that. He only watches Carlos, listening to the way his breathing seems to get quicker and shallower.

“Are you going to force me to get out of bed, babe?” he asks, as softly and gently as he can.

They both know he isn’t strong enough to stand on his own two feet yet, that he is still a prisoner of his bed, and even though Carlos is only five feet away, he cannot cross the distance. But right now, he thinks he is willing to take the risk and try, push himself through the ache and exhaustion, if Carlos doesn’t come to him.

Carlos turns around, blinking furiously and wiping some of the tears away from his tear-stained cheeks and he looks strangely vulnerable.

TK offers him a tiny, but encouraging and enamoured smile, and lifts his arm a little. It’s an invitation, to be comforted and held, and he is nothing but glad when Carlos takes it as he crosses the small distance between them, sitting on the edge of bed.

TK instantly wraps his arms around him, tightly, and Carlos burrows his face into his neck. His tears are still silent, just everything spilling out of him, the stress and fear, and TK understands it more than well. He strokes his shoulder blades and cradles the back of his head and presses a series of kisses on his cheek and temple.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “it’s okay. I got you.”

It starts to sound a bit like a mantra, as he repeats it time after a time, but he means all of the words from the bottom of his heart, and he knows he is saying them for both of them, and he cannot deny that his eyes wouldn’t get wet too.

***

“You’re not failing,” Carlos says, fixing the tube of his IV bag into a better position as it has almost intertwined around the metallic scaffold during his less than successful attempt of walking further than the nurses’ station and back.

TK just grunts as a response. Sitting on the edge of his hospital bed feels a lot better than being on his feet, but he still feels shaky and exhausted and sweat is drying in the back of his neck. He hates feeling weak and helpless, and there is definitely some sort of embarrassment flaring up in his stomach.

It is already challenging enough to accept help and coming to terms with knowing that there are a lot of things that he cannot do on his own yet, but it feels infinitely more hard to let others witness his struggling and failing.

Carlos steps closer to him, right into his personal space, in between his legs and brushes his knee with a few of his fingers. “I’m proud of you.”

He sounds sincere, as always, and TK has no difficulties believing that Carlos actually means his words. His breath seems to hitch in his throat, but he still forces himself to exhale, and he looks up to him, tilting his head to the side.

“For falling?”

His left calf had started to cramp during his little walk, and he still hasn’t gained all of his strength back and just one cramp managed to make the whole leg gave underneath him and he probably would have fallen straight on to his face on the shiny hospital floor if Carlos hadn’t been next to him, catching him immediately when he stumbled.

TK is grateful that it was him, instead of someone he doesn’t know, and Carlos didn’t make him feel stupid or ridiculed, didn’t even tell him I-told-you-so even though he had asked a few moments before if he should head back to bed, and he had stubbornly pushed too far.

He doesn’t mind being weak and vulnerable in front of Carlos, but he hates that his recovery is the only thing that they are able to focus and that most of Carlos’ time is spent in the hospital once again and that he has to deal with his helpless and weak side again.

“For trying,” Carlos corrects, gently, despite the clear amusement shining in his eyes, and he bends down slightly to place a kiss on his forehead.

TK closes his eyes, trying to relish the tenderness and love of it for as long as he can, even though he knows that there is an abundance of it again. Yet, it feels to be in such a strong contrast of the way he is currently feeling about himself and he wants to welcome the kindness of it.

“Okay,” he whispers.

Maybe it is that simple, that trying is more important than anything else, and that he doesn’t have to always achieve and success with things, that trying is more than good enough.

At least trying has gotten them this far, and that is more than he dared to hope.

Carlos rubs his arm slightly before he steps further away. TK flashes him a quick and grateful smile before he swings his legs back onto bed and tries to find a comfortable position to lie down in.

It feels like an impossible task.

He expects Carlos to sit back to one of the two chairs, but instead he just kicks his shoes off and gestures TK to move his legs. He stares at Carlos little dumbfoundedly, but he eventually bends his knees, making space for him in the other end of the bed.

He sits there, crossing his legs and he gently pulls TK’s feet on his lap.

TK is about to ask him what he is doing, not that he would complain about the closeness or touching, but he doesn’t have time to voice his confusion, before Carlos already sinks his fingertips into his left calf, slowly and carefully massaging it with small circular movements.

The cramp might have passed, but the muscle is still sore and achy, and his fingers feel amazing and nearly heavenly against his calf.

“You--,”

“If you are going to say I don’t have to, you can save your breath,” Carlos murmurs, interrupting, and glancing at him quickly before looking back on his feet, “I want to.”

“Maybe I was going to say that you’re sweet and you should do that,” TK quips back, even though he feels known and seen, but he appreciates that he wants to take care of him, take some of his pain away, and he doesn’t really have the right words for that.

Nothing feels adequate enough.  

Carlos just glares at him, little amusedly, apparently not believing a word that comes out of his mouth. He just continues to work through his muscle knots, applying only a tiny bit of pressure as he tries to find the spots that are hurting the most.

Yet, he is being incredibly gentle and tender with the movements of his fingers, only sinking them deeper into his muscle when he is certain that he isn’t hurting him. It feels good and he can feel his muscle relax a bit by bit, letting go off the tension, and Carlos seems like he isn’t in a rush with it.

TK closes his eyes for a second, trying to cherish the feeling of being taken care of by someone he loves, and he tries his best ignore the shame and embarrassment that is trying to bubble up, because he is thoroughly exhausted and he is entirely sure that if he would try to move, his entire body would tremble with exertion.

He hates feeling weak, but somehow, Carlos isn’t making him feel weak for needing help and for not being able to do things on his own, he just seems to be offering all of his love and tries to make the worst moments a little bit better by just being there for him and loving him.

TK is grateful for that, and he tries to let himself just be with him, and only hope that he is making his worst moments little bit less terrible, too.

“For the record,” Carlos says, suddenly breaking the silence that has fallen between them as he rubs his calf carefully, “I didn’t think you were failing either when you couldn’t pay for the apartment.”

It throws him off his rhythm for a moment, just because it isn’t what he expected to say in that moment, but his voice is earnest and genuine, and TK completely believes that he means his words.

It isn’t the most horrible thing to hear either, and he suspects that Carlos is only saying it because he wants him to know it, that it isn’t just something that is heavily implied. Especially when the situation hasn’t changed. He still cannot afford to pay his part of the loft.

It weighs on some part of his mind, still, and he guesses they still need to talk about it more at some point. Right now, it feels enough to wonder and be little in awe of the way Carlos seems him, and try to ignore all other thoughts that he might have in his mind.

“I know,” he says, knowing it to be the truth as he stares at the ceiling for a moment, but he glances at Carlos, who is still stroking his calf, “but you do realise why it felt like that for me, right?”

“I do,” he replies, just as simply, and without really having to think about it.

TK huffs, softly, because it feels like they are understanding each other, maybe better than ever before, and it’s comforting feeling. To have someone who knows you, loves you and understands you. It’s a lot more than what he ever thought he could have.

Just as he predicted, his arm shakes as he lifts it up and reaches for him, but Carlos is there to catch his hand, intertwine their fingers together, and hold their hands up for both of them. For now.

***

Carlos’ gaze is glued to the tv screen near the ceiling of his hospital room as he keeps changing the channels, trying to find anything that would show something else than shows about gardening or competitive fishing.

It seems to be lost cause, but TK cannot help but feel little enamoured and washed by the love and affection he feels for him, just because he is there, in the middle of Thursday, stuck with him in a hospital room and watching crappy daytime tv.

Yet, he hasn’t complained once. Even though his shoulders must be stiff from sleeping in the armchair, spine just a collection of small rocks and he is exhausted, and TK knows he is technically using his vacation days to be there with him.

All of it is making him feel loved.

“Could you help me outside?”

The words fall out of his mouth almost half-accidentally. It is an idea he has been thinking about in his head and he has a plan, but most of all, he misses the feeling of wind and warmth of sunshine on his face, and he just wants to get the chance to breathe in fresh air.

“Yeah, sure,” Carlos replies, without a beat, instantly disregarding the remote somewhere as he gets up from his seat and rubs his own thigs a bit as he nods towards the wheelchair in the corner of his room, “I didn’t think you’d want to get on this thing.”

One of the nurses had brought it over, in case he wanted to move a bit around more now that he is feeling better and not constantly connected to every possible tube and cord in the hospital. He still has his IV bag, but there is a scaffold for it on the wheelchair, too.

He knows that he is still too weak to actually move alone with the wheelchair, but he thinks he can stomach the idea of being helped around by Carlos, especially when he is doing it for him as much as he is doing it for himself, too.

“I don’t,” he remarks, yanking some of the blankets away from top of him, and sliding and sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling at him softly, “but some things are worth it.”

Just getting ready to go outside, seems to take a small forever, but he doesn’t care because cold is the last thing he wants to feel so he gladly accepts the thicker hospital pants, his own socks underneath the hospital’s slippers and Carlos’ zip hoodie and a black beanie he has never even seen before.

Carlos even settles the thicker blanket on top of his legs, and it feels little ridiculous, but he is grateful for it. He instantly clutches to it as he slowly pushes his wheelchair out of the ward. It feels nice to be moving and see something else than the walls of his room.

Carlos makes it seem as if he wouldn’t do rather anything else than wait for the elevator and push him along the long corridors, just talking about things to him. He even slows down the pace when he is starting to feel little light-headed.

TK doesn’t even get the chance to say anything about his nausea, Carlos seems to recognise it instantly from his face, but they eventually make it outside. The fresh air feels even more incredible than he hoped for, and the sun is peeking from in between the clouds and it’s hard not to feel content and a bit more whole.

They end up walking around for a bit, but eventually they stop at the little garden that the hospital has next to it. TK guesses it’s to help people with grief and maybe it’s a little morbid, but having something alive and green, even if it is just a few spruces and vines, intertwined in wooden scaffolds, that haven’t really liked the sudden cold and snow.

There are faded out red tiles and long benches and little decorative pool of water in the middle of it. The water has partly started to melt already, and maybe most of all, TK likes the quietness and privacy of it. Carlos sits at the end of one of the benches and he parked the wheelchair right next to it. Their knees would touch if TK moved his leg just an inch.

The sun is illuminating the little grief garden and the tea Carlos bought for him from one of the cafeteria stalls outside of the hospital is warming his palms as he cradles the disposable cup between his hands.

Maybe it is ridiculous, but TK feels happier and more at ease than in months. He takes a little sip of his decaffeinated tea and just stares at Carlos. He looks good in the sunlight, more glowing and happier, and it feels as if his heart is quietly just humming with love and affection.

He never fell out of love, but seeing him like it, absolutely feels like falling in love all over again. Maybe that is what they are doing, TK guesses, getting the change to experience the thrill of falling in even more in love and rediscover and relearn things about each other, but also learn something new.

Yet another honeymoon stage ahead of them.

“Can I kiss you?”

The smile that lights up Carlos’ face at his words threatens to outshine the actual sun. It’s bright and dazzling and warm, and it makes his laugh lines appear in the corners of his eyes and he looks genuinely delighted as he chuckles quietly.

TK thinks his heart might flatline again just out of pure love.

“I didn’t think that’s something you need to ask, babe,” he points out, softly, as he places his own coffee cup next to him on the wooden bench.

“Maybe not usually,” TK muses just as softly, keeping his gaze on him, even though he hears a bird sing somewhere nearby, “but we haven’t—kissed since we got back together, and I didn’t want to do it back in the stuffy hospital room.”

Maybe it’s ridiculous and dumb, but he wants to put some effort into it. He has been drowned in affection, gentle and loving touches, and kisses on everywhere but his mouth, and he has loved all of that, the casual intimacy that he was craving for, but properly kissing is something that has been off the table.

TK guesses it is partly because they are still trying to find their footing again when it comes to them and partly because kissing is hard with nasal cannulas and with the soreness and pain from being hooked on a ventilator. TK appreciates that Carlos is trying to be gentle with him, but sometimes he wants to say that he isn’t going to break if he kisses him more than just briefly on his forehead or cheek.

He is aware that the lack of privacy is probably playing into it, too. Privacy in the ICU is an illusion and they have tried to keep it up, but he knows Carlos and he isn’t big on public displays of affection, and honestly, TK wants the peace and quiet, too.  

“It’s a nice spot,” Carlos comments, looking at the pool with melting water, but his smile is still there, just as brilliantly but it has grown softer and enamoured.

“It’s as nice as it is going to get for a while, I guess,” TK shoots back, yanking his beanie backwards.

The doctors still refuse to give him any sort of schedule about being discharged and he guesses that even when he gets out of the hospital, there are not that many places he has the energy to visit. It will take time to get back into what he was, but he is glad that he can give even something little different than the hospital room’s walls to him.  

“You can kiss me,” Carlos murmurs, pulling him away from his thoughts filled with dread about the length of his recovery.

TK simply grins at him. He hands him the cup of tea and Carlos places it on the bench, too. He slides to the edge of the seat of the wheelchair, trying to minimise the distance between them. He cups his face with both hands, caressing the edge of his cheekbone with his thumbs and he cannot help but smile at him.

It’s difficult to believe in that moment that he has ever wanted to do anything else, but smile at him when he has seen him, and his heart is soaring.

“You’re really taking your time,” Carlos deadpans, quietly, but it doesn’t really help that his gaze is more glued to his lips than to his eyes.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, almost full-on grinning now at him, “I didn’t think I’d get the chance to do this again, I want to do it right.”

For a moment, Carlos looks as if he wants to say something more, but TK cuts him off from the chance of it by finally pressing their lips together. At first it’s just a graze of their lips, and nothing more, but there is something inside of his chest that aligns to its right place when it happens.

His lips feel surprisingly warm, and he tastes like coffee, and there’s gentleness and slowness about the way they kiss, as if they were rediscovering something and making sure that they are not missing one detail of it. They are taking their time, but it’s getting little more intense, the spark that they have always had, the one that initially even draw them towards each other, awakening again.

Carlos’ hand ends up cupping the back of his head, holding him even closer, as if he would be fearing that he would just disappear.

It feels right, and it makes his stomach flip pleasantly, and they are just pouring every bit of their longing and yearning into it, and mixing it with the love they haven’t been able to express.

TK loses the track of time, but he is starting to feel little light-headed again, and he pulls away, just to catch a deep breath of air into his lungs.

“That was pretty good for a first kiss,” Carlos grins, whispering, as he rests his forehead against his.

“It felt—right,” he agrees, dragging his thumb along his cheek and jawline before letting his hand drop away from his face.

TK didn’t really worry that it would feel any different, but maybe in the back of his mind there was a little and persistent fear that maybe they have changed and that things wouldn’t be the same as they were, but it’s comforting to know that it feels even better than he remembered.

“It did.”

It’s dumb, Carlos has his entire heart, but right in that moment, being drowned in sunlight and looking at him smiling, and still tasting his coffee on his own lips, it feels like he is crushing on him again. There are butterflies in his stomach, and he simply cannot stop smiling.

“We could test it again just to make sure,” TK suggests, slowly, as he slides up his palm along his forearm.

“Right,” Carlos agrees, laughing quietly, and his lips are on his face before TK gets the chance to say anything else and he doesn’t mind one bit.

***

The pictures on Carlos’ phone are bright, full of smiling people, and happiness and love.

TK can recognise most of the people, Andrea and Gabriel obviously, but also Carlos’ sisters, Tia Lucy and a few of his cousins that he has met. All of his nephews and nieces, even the youngest one, little Alice who was born just months ago.

The photos are from her christening and there are a lot of them. TK doesn’t mind looking at them, it’s fun and he likes to put faces on people he has heard Carlos talk about before as he asks something about the more distant relatives he hasn’t had the chance to meet yet.

Looking at the photos makes him realise that it isn’t just not on Carlos’ life that he has missed on for the past few months, it’s all of his family. The people who welcomed him with open warmly and with open arms and instantly treated him like he was already family.

He missed all of them too and it’s good to hear catch-up on their lives. How many soccer games Carlos’ niece’s football team has won, where his sister Camilla finally ended up moving from her too small studio apartment, birthday party of his cousin, how they celebrated the holidays, the hip surgery of his tio, broken pipe at tia Lucy’s.

It’s all things he would have heard if he was there and present in their lives.  

Carlos’ love for his family is so visible and amazing as he talks about everyone and about the pictures that he is showing and TK could listen to him for hours on end, just because the love and affection on him is so mesmerizing and it takes his breath away a little that he gets to be in the receiving end of that love, too.

Carlos slides his thumb on the phone screen and the photo changes again. This time it is just Carlos and Alice. He is wearing a dark blue suit and holding her in her arms. Her christening dress is long, and she looks as if she is peacefully asleep or at least very content to be held by him.

Yet, the most captivating thing about the picture is Carlos’ bright and loving smile as he stares at his niece instead of the phone’s camera.

It’s a lovely picture, and TK is glad some moment of Carlos’ happiness has been captured in the photo, but somehow that picture, more than any other’s is a sucker punch to his stomach.

If things had been different, he would probably be in the same picture with him. He was mentioned by name in the invitation, and he had every intention to go with Carlos. They were already planning what to buy as a present and he had plans to buy a new suit jacket.

“You had to go alone,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with sorrow, but he cannot tear his eyes away from the picture.

Carlos glances at him little surprisedly. They are both sitting on his hospital bed, legs dangling over the edge of it, and TK is leaning against his shoulder with most of his weight.

“I did,” Carlos says quietly, his thumb hoovering above his screen little unsurely, but he isn’t swiping the photo away.

“Your family probably hates my guts,” TK mumbles, feeling some sort of dread even as he thinks about the amount of apologizing and making up he has to do for breaking Carlos’ heart, and he thinks his family might be a little more reluctant in forgiveness than Carlos was.

He hates that his family’s acceptance and love might be something he has lost due to messing things up. Especially when he knows how much it meant to Carlos that his family loved and liked him and that they could go to family gatherings together.

“No one hates your guts,” Carlos quips, softly, and kisses the side of his head, “and I didn’t tell anyone we broke up. I just lied that you were called to work. They sent their love to you and gave four tupperwares full of food for you. I ended up throwing all of that away.”

TK’s aware that they both didn’t really talk about their breakup or reasons for it to anyone else, that was a mess that stayed between them, but he is surprised that he didn’t even mention it to his family. He knows that Andrea knows and that he is invited to a dinner to the ranch as soon as he gets discharged.

TK isn’t sure if the dinner will just result in him getting re-admitted to the hospital or not. He knows how much Andrea and Gabriel love Carlos, and that they can be protective over him and that they probably aren’t very happy with him currently.

Yet, it is yet another thing about his life he wants to fix. For his own sake, because he would rather like if he got along with his in-laws and he misses them too, but mostly for Carlos’ sake. He owes him that much at least.

The idea of Carlos pretending and coming up with excuses instead of letting himself hurt is shattering his heart, and he is getting mad at himself all over again. It has kept happening lately and he isn’t sure what to do with his frustration and anger, especially now that Carlos doesn’t seem to be feeling any of it and refuses to take it as a weight for himself to carry.

“I’m so sorry,” TK murmurs, against his shoulder, as he presses a kiss there. He ends up kissing mostly just his hoodie. He places the next one on his cheek, near the edge of his jawbone.

“I know you’re,” he breathes out, making his phone screen go black and he rests his hand on his thigh, stroking it, “but what’s done is done. No use in wallowing past mistakes.”

He is painfully aware that past is something he cannot change. He would have a whole list of things ready to change if it was possible, and on some days, it feels like regret and guilt is heavier than his heart, and most of all, he wishes to change things that made him hurt others.

“Things didn’t have to be like this,” he insists quietly, trying to smooth out wrinkles from his hospital gown, “we could have made up months ago if—I had just swallowed my pride and cowardice and apologized earlier.”

From early on, he was convinced that Carlos forgiving him was out of the realm of possibility and that he was doing him a favor by staying further away and cutting all contact with him. He was convinced that was the only way they could get over it, even when he wanted to reach out and offer some sort of apology, even though he was still angry and hurting.

“I don’t think what-ifs are really useful,” Carlos points out, patiently, as he glances out of the window.

The sky is almost impossibly blue, and sun is shining brightly, casting long shadows to the floor of the hospital room from the window blinds. The snow and ice are starting melt already, even if the air is still bit chilly, and it reminds TK of springs back in New York.

TK hates what ifs. They mess with his head, and he loathes thinking about something that never happened, good or bad, but the biggest what-if in the back of his mind currently is that what if they could have avoided the breakup altogether.

“You tried to reach out. You tried. You even came here in the middle of your shift even though I had given you zero reasons to keep reaching out,” TK continues, poking his own thigh with his thumb, ignoring the slight ache it leaves behind.

He has heard the story of it from Nancy and Carlos, both. He knows if the roles would have been reversed, he would have wanted to visit him in the hospital too, but he has hard time comprehending that even after everything, Carlos was willing to drive across town, in a snow storm, on the off chance that he might want to talk to him after a months of radio silence.

In his books, it is trying, and it shows more bravery than he had. Carlos kept putting his heart on the line, as he tried to reach out and possibly fix things. He didn’t have the guts to do it until he almost lost his life.

TK huffs little frustratedly, but he stops the poking when Carlos wraps his hand around his thumb and brings his nervous habit to a halt. He brings their joined hands to his lap, and cradles TK’s hand with both of his, even though he has shoved the other one to the front pocket of his hoodie.

Similarly, as he did ages ago on the hood of the Camaro when they were just starting to fall in love.

“Babe,” Carlos says, softly, trying to catch his gaze, but he stubbornly stares at his own feet and his blue socks. It makes Carlos sigh, but he doesn’t sound too annoyed. “You will eventually have to forgive for yourself, too.”

TK just grunts as a reply.

TK knows it is the truth, but it is easier said than done. It might take months until he stops blaming himself, even though he thinks Carlos will be there to stop him at any chance that he gets. Still, it might be something that haunts him for a while, even if he talks to his therapist about it.

Healing takes time, he guesses.

TK nudges Carlos’ knee gently and nods towards the nightstand next to his bed. “Can you give my phone?”

Carlos effortlessly reaches to pick it up and hands it to him wordlessly, but there is certain curiosity in the way he studies him with his gaze, and he expectantly waits as TK punches in the passcode for it.

It’s still the identification number of Carlos’ squad car. He couldn’t bring himself to change it, even when they were apart, and now he is little glad for not moving on, and for hanging onto at least something, instead of completely giving up.

Carlos seems to recognise it because he suddenly kisses his temple.

“I know—I kept ignoring your calls and texts,” TK starts, as he attempts to find what he is looking for and it only takes a few clicks until he gets the folder open, “but there wasn’t a day that I wouldn’t have thought about you, and I guess this is the proof.”

He hands the phone back to Carlos and confusion shines in Carlos’ eyes for a moment until he realises what he is staring at. It’s his text drafts from the past few months. For some reason, every time he opened their text thread and started to write something, an apology or something short asking if he is alright or if he needs the pair of sweatpants that he found from the laundry bin at his dad’s, he saved the drafts even if he never sent them.

It became almost therapeutic, to pick up his phone and write what was on his mind, imagine the scenario where he would get the chance to apologise and talk to him, about anything or anything. Most of them are mundane things, just something he wanted to tell him, some are full of worry and longing, some are just one or two words.

There are bunch of drafts including the three little words he thought he could never tell him again. 

He wrote them when he couldn’t sleep. During quiet moments during his shift. When he missed him so much that it felt like his heart was missing some integral part of it. When something, anything, reminded him of Carlos too much.

Carlos clicks open one of them. It’s not too long, just something about him going on about Buttercup and that he misses him. TK remembers writing it.

He had lied down his bed and the bed had felt too empty and big, even with the massive dog pressed against his legs, and he had wondered in the darkness if any place would ever feel like home anymore without Carlos.

Carlos closes the draft and blinks at him. His gaze slowly trails down to his lips and TK isn’t surprised when he crosses the short distance between them and kisses him, softly and lovingly, but he is grateful for it and TK ends up smiling against his lips in any case.

“Thank you,” Carlos murmurs, when they depart, sounding genuinely grateful.

TK just flashes a soft smile at him and gestures to the phone screen and all the text on it.

He opens another one and continues reading, and TK refuses to let go of his hand, and he hopes that giving him a concrete proof that none of his love disappeared anywhere manages to heal something between them.

***

“This is the height of romance,” TK mumbles, when Carlos hands him one of the rough and thin towels of the hospital into the tiny shower cubicle.

He dries his face onto it first, disliking the scruffiness of it against his cheeks, but it’s better than nothing. He dries his arms next, desperately trying to make him feel warm again, but it seems to be a lost cause. The tiles beneath his feet are wet and slightly soap covered, and he tries to take small steps not to fall as he continues to dry himself in the shower.

He appreciates that Carlos is there. He still isn’t cleared to have showers alone, in case of heart issues or fainting, and the ICU’s showers are cold and drafty. The coldness combined with splashing water and being underneath of water, it goes into his eyes, ears and mouth isn’t his favourite combination currently, and just his presence on the other side of the pathetic shower curtain makes him feel safe.

“Maybe you should focus on healing, we can deal with romance later,” Carlos suggests, little amusedly when he attempts to dry his hair, even though his arms feel like they are made out of lead, and it takes effort to lift them above his head.

“Compartmentaliser,” TK mutters against his beige towel, little accusingly, but he cannot keep the fondness out of his voice in any possible way.

Carlos laughs quietly, but he hears him move, possibly gathering up all of his things and clothes. TK steps out of the cubicle, Carlos is already there, handing him his underwear and a clean hospital gown. He accepts them and hands the damp towel to him in return.

It takes some effort again, but it brings him joy to be able to do something as simple as putting on clothes by himself without any help. He knows Carlos is watching him like a hawk, ready to help him if he struggles, but he appreciates that he isn’t hovering next to him, but giving him space.

“You’ve never looked better than under these flickering hospital bathroom lights,” Carlos deadpans to him, when he manages to shove his arms into the gown. He doesn’t even have to ask before Carlos is standing behind him, tying the strings on his neck and back, to securing the gown in place.

“You think you are funny,” TK huffs, little amusedly, as he tries to glare at him over his shoulder, but he doesn’t have much success. Especially when Carlos kisses his neck gently and slowly just below his hairline.

“I do,” he hums, when TK turns around, and he unzips his own black APD hoodie before shrugging it off and placing it on TK’s shoulders and helping it on to him. He zips the zipper for him, holding his gaze softly, “and I also know there’s no place I’d rather be in right now.”

TK isn’t sure what warms him more, the warmed-up hoodie that still has Carlos’ scent lingering on it, or that he seems to mean his words from the bottom of his heart, but he knows that coldness doesn’t have a chokehold on him anymore.

***

Carlos leaves after he gets back to bed. He doesn’t really mind. He misses him the moment he disappears from the doors, but he thinks it’s better for Carlos if he doesn’t spend his every moment at the hospital, but visits home and actually takes care of himself in the between.

TK drifts into sleep at some point, he hates how much energy simple tasks take from him nowadays and everything tires him out.

He startles from his sleep only when he hears some clattering and when he opens his eyes, Carlos is there again. He looks as if he has just arrived, he still has his jacket on and he is standing next to his table, back to him, unloading something from his bag.

TK is still little foggy with sleep and as he glances at the clock, he realises that he has slept more than three hours. He thinks he needed the sleep and rest, and he tries to pull himself up into a straighter and better position. He has already opened his mouth, greeting dying on his tongue when Carlos moves from in front of the table and pushes it towards his bed.

TK blinks, having little hard time believing what he is seeing in front of him. There are at least ten small led candles on the table, all over the place, flickering softly. In the middle of the table, there is a bright green plastic container, apparently filled with food and TK only needs one glance to recognise what it is.

The smell of it instantly hits him afterwards and makes his heart clench with love.

The container is filled with pollo rojo and some rice. It’s a small container and small portion, but it smells incredible and there are chopped green onions on top of it to make it appear more festive and brighter. TK just stares at it, biting his lower lip.

It’s one of the first things Carlos ever cooked for him, following some recipe he had received from his abuelita. He had been touched by the effort Carlos had put into just an ordinary dinner after his shift while he was still recovering from his gunshot wound.

TK fell in love with the food and maybe little bit in love with Carlos on that night and it became some sort of comfort food for him, and Carlos cooked it for him multiple times afterwards, after hard shifts and difficult days or when he got injured on the job.

When he turns his look at Carlos, he finds him smiling at him, beamingly, and he nods towards the impromptu dinner. “The romance part as I promised.”

TK picks up the fork in his hand, but he cannot tear his gaze away from Carlos. He is having a little hard time believing that he is real. He doesn’t even know how to start voice his gratefulness or love and for the first time since waking up, his stomach actually growls with hunger.

TK just mirrors his smile, little lopsidedly.

“Have I told you I love you?”

Carlos uncrosses his arms and lets out a little non-committal sound as he walks around his bed and shrugs, deadpan. “Once or twice.”

TK rolls his eyes, fondly at him, and takes the first forkful of food. It’s still warm and it tastes even better than he remembered, and it tastes incredible, and little bit like love, and just because all of it, it might be the best thing he has eaten in a while.

“I almost missed your cooking as much I did miss you,” he mumbles, as he reaches to take more of it on his fork.

He grins at him and fixes the corner of his blanket for him.

“The real reason you wanted to get back together, I know,” Carlos jokes, as he takes a seat on the edge of his hospital mattress, brushing his knee with his fingers as he does, “but if anyone asks, I didn’t break hospital’s rules by bringing you food.”

TK just scrunches his nose at him, but his heart is overflowing with love. “Of course not.”

***

TK’s hand fumbles for something on his neck, until he realises that he doesn’t have the pendant any longer. He feels strangely naked without it and there is simmering sadness when he thinks about losing it and he just ends up pressing his palm against his neck and chest, absentmindedly tracing his collar bone.

He sort of misses the necklace, it used to bring some comfort to him. Something steady and constant in his life, and it feels like he misses a part of himself when he doesn’t have it.

He senses the weight of Carlos’ gaze on him and flashes him a small smile. He doesn’t want him to worry about him any more than necessary and the location of his necklace isn’t a top priority on that list and there is already a deep frown appearing slowly in between Carlos’ eyebrows.

Besides, the necklace could be anywhere. In the banks of that lake that he fell into, on the floor of their rig, in the lost and found of the emergency room. The possibilities are endless, but he doesn’t really want to think about it too much.

Somethings are meant to be lost and it was just a necklace. Sure, it had meaning to him, and he was attached to it, but it is something that can be replaced if it doesn’t show up from anywhere.

“Oh,” Carlos whispers, suddenly, sliding his hand underneath the collar of his blue-and-white sweater, pulling a chain out from there, “I still have this.”

The chain is metallic, long and delicate and the silver pendant glimmers brightly underneath the hospital’s harsh lights and TK immediately recognises it as his own.

Carlos pulls it over his head, gently placing the necklace on TK’s open palm, with flashing a little abashed smile. The necklace is still warm with the heat of his body, and it sort of feels like he has been handed a part of himself back.

“I thought I had lost this.”

TK keeps his gaze on the necklace. It looks just as he remembers, there is a small scratch on the other side of the pendant and small chip on the bottom of it. It looks worn-out because it is, but he likes to think they are just signs of love in a way.

It is definitely his, in every way, and he curls his fingers around it.

“They gave it to me for safe-keeping,” Carlos explains, his gaze darting between TK and the chain that hangs from in between his fingers.

TK tries to imagine it. Whether it was a doctor or nurse that gave it to him, did he accept without any reluctancy, and did they automatically assume that Carlos is his loved one and that he would want the necklace when he isn’t able to wear it himself.

He kind of wants to know, but he doesn’t know to ask. It seems enough to know that Carlos kept it safe. He didn’t forget anywhere even though he probably was distraught. He didn’t just shove it into the pocket of his jeans or give to Tommy or Nancy.

He hold onto it, and he wore it.

TK wants to hope it gave some comfort to him when he couldn’t do it himself. The idea makes a wave of warmth spread in his chest and he adores it.

TK closes his eyes for a moment, but when he opens them, he looks at Carlos. He smiles at him, affectionately and almost timidly. He hands the necklace back to him.

“Maybe you should hang on it for little longer.”

Carlos looks perplexed and he doesn’t do anything to take the necklace back from his hand.  “What?”

“I never go anywhere without it,” he explains, slowly, letting it dangle from his fingers, and it swings from side to side calmly, “and as long as you have that, you know I’m not running away. You can return it when you believe it.”

Carlos’ gaze follows the movement of the pendant too, but he sighs heavily, almost little frustratedly. His face twists, almost uncomfortably and he looks pained. TK can practically hear him think and he can guess that he doesn’t want to accept it because he thinks it would reveal that he still has trouble trusting him.

It’s not a nice thought, he gets it. Just thinking that Carlos might have trouble believing his commitment and desire to stay by his side and in his life is enough to make his stomach lurch, but he is also aware that it will be difficult for a little while at least and he has to make him trust him.

To make it so, that even if there’s trouble or they are not agreeing on something or something monumental happens, Carlos’ first thought won’t be fear that he is going to make a run for it again and abandon him. TK knows he has to do some work for it, to build that trust.

The first real step might be that they admit that it is something that can become a problem if they give power to it.

“It’s not a test,” TK points out, gently, “it’s supposed to be comfort.”

Carlos exhales, deeply, but his gaze finally finds his. There is nothing but love shining in his eyes, and TK hopes he can keep it that way, especially when the doubt seems to fade away by each second.

“Okay,” he says, eventually giving in.

Carlos curls his fingers around his own, and the chain slides easily from his fingers to his, and it’s not difficult to let it go. It doesn’t even feel like he is giving anything away because he is just giving to his better half, other half of his heart.

Carlos carefully places it back on his neck, slipping the pendant back inside of his sweater. He smiles at him softly and TK grins back at him, resting his head against his pillow.

“It looks good on you, babe.”

***

TK hates hospitals.

There are many reasons for it. Usually being in a hospital means nothing good. Only misery and pain comes out of it. It’s a lonely place for a most of the time. The time doesn’t seem to move, and one is on the mercy of others and dependent on them. Most of the time, it’s boring and it makes him uneasy.

Most of all, he hates how much time he has just to think about things. If he wants to quiet down his whirring mind that goes too fast, he moves. He goes for a run or hits the gym. He works and keeps himself distracted, with music or any other type of noise.

Now, he cannot move, and the distractions are scarce in a hospital room in the middle of the night. He has white walls and his phone, but absentmindedly scrolling through social media isn’t really helping him feel any better or quiet down his mind.

His mind has been definitely loud today. Maybe it’s because he is slowly feeling better and not all of his energy goes into just existing and recovering. Maybe it is the lingering fear of almost dying again that is trying to claw its way out. Maybe it is because he has spent hours alone today, something he is still getting used to.

In any case, it has been a lot to keep up with his own my mind today and not all of his thoughts have been pleasant to think about. He has managed to shake off some of them, but there are a few that his mind always circles back to, as if it was something he couldn’t resist thinking about.

It’s like a sore bruise that he cannot stop poking and it is slowly driving him up the wall.

TK knows he should sleep. He probably would feel better after a good night’s sleep and his mind would feel clearer, but it is already closer to two am and sleep and rest seems to slip away from in between his fingers. He is growing more uneasy and restless by the minute, and he knows there is one way he could maybe get some piece of mind and banish some of the unpleasant thoughts away.

“Babe?”

He knows Carlos isn’t really asleep beside him. His breathing is way too irregular, and he had his eyes open a few minutes ago, as he kissed his fingers and told him to try and sleep. It was sweet and TK thinks that he is probably thinking so hard that even Carlos can hear it.

“Yeah?” Carlos asks, voice heavy with sleep and he only opens his other eye to look at him.

It’s an endearing sight and TK has missed seeing him like it. The side of him that not so many people get to see, the less put-together version of Carlos that has no walls of pretence up and whose eyes are heavy with sleep and his curls messed up by tossing and turning.

“Can I ask you something?” he murmurs, reaching to push away his curls away from his forehead but they just stubbornly fall right back.

He just hums in agreement.

TK sighs heavily, as if he could force his overthinking and uneasiness away and out from him by exhaling, and he ends up brushing the tip of Carlos’ chin before he pulls his hand away and squeezes it loosely into a fist.

“Did you move on?”

It’s a vague question, he knows it. There are different ways of moving on from someone, but he means the specific way of possibly meeting someone else. He knows Carlos gets what he means because he opens his eyes, and he tenses up a little bit next to him.

It’s a horrible thought, to think that he might have had someone else, ugly and hot feeling of jealousy instantly flames in his stomach as he thinks about it, but it isn’t really any of his business if he had. Everyone has different ways of dealing with break-ups, healthy or not, and he thinks he would be a hypocrite for judging anyone else’s ways.

He just wants to know. Knowing is better than wondering, and answers might actually quiet his mind down. He knows that he doesn’t have anyone else right now, Carlos wouldn’t have gotten back together with him if he had something serious with someone else, but months is a long time.

A lot might happen.

The silence seems to drag on between them. TK stares at the sleeve of Carlos’ black t-shirt and the way the fabric of it is creased. He rests his lips against his shoulder, murmuring against the sleeve as he speaks.

“It’s fine if you did. I’m not mad or anything like that. I guess I just want to know instead of wondering if there was someone else.”

Carlos’ gaze is on the ceiling, and he nods. The bed is pretty cramped with both of them lying on there and there’s no way they wouldn’t be touching. Their shoulders are squashed together, and their legs pressed against each other, and Carlos nudges his toes with his own.

“I got a few phone numbers,” he says, almost casually, and TK’s heart falls unpleasantly to his stomach, but he bites the inside of his cheek. “I threw them to trash. I think I never got past the grieving stage of the break-up even though I gave Marjan this big speech about moving on.”

TK nods, his breath almost hitching in his throat. It would have not changed anything for him if he had had someone else, but it simultaneously breaks his heart to hear that he had made him that miserable, but it also brings weird sort of comfort to know that they were together in that misery and in reluctancy to let go.

Carlos nudges his toes again.

“Did you move on?”

TK shakes his head lazily and scrunches up his nose. “No, no one was you and that was it.”

It sounds like a simplification, but it is the truth, and there is no getting over it. He tried to move on, he downloaded a dating app on his phone, but he kept swiping left for everyone. He went to a bar couple of times, but every time someone showed even the slightest bit interest in him or flirted with him, he lied that he was taken.

It’s hard to move on when you have already found the love of your life, and nothing compares to them.

“I’m hard to get over?” he jokes, laughing quietly, but there is certain freeness to his smile that wasn’t there a moment ago.

Maybe it was a conversation they both needed to have, even if it was just a couple of hushed words exchanged between them in the darkness and dimness of the hospital in the middle of the night.

“The hardest. You’re it for me,” TK remarks, lightly, but he is serious about it as he possibly can, and he rests his head on his shoulder, “there’s no getting over you and I don’t want to try again.”

It is the truth. He has found the other half of his heart and he would rather like if he didn’t have to lose it ever again. He doesn’t want to experience the heartbreak of it again.

“You don’t have to,” he promises softly, covering his temple in a few slow kisses.

***

“I’m getting discharged on Thursday,” TK says, looking up to the ceiling of his hospital room. He has stared at it for so long, he thinks it’s corroded somewhere deep in his memory, and he will remember the little details of it for years.

Being discharged is something he has been looking forward to, he was ready to leave the hospital already week ago, and it brings hopefulness into him, that maybe this is something he can survive too, and he is already craving the freedom and peace for himself, and not feeling like pincushion for the nurses and their constant tests.

Thursday is only a few days away and he is happy to finally get out of the hospital, but he didn’t expect the uncertainness that settled into his stomach when the doctor started to explain about the check-up appointments, physiotherapy and the amount of meds he would still need to take at home.

He was perplexed by it, he had known that his recovery wouldn’t end when he walked out of the doors of the hospital, but then it him. It was the way the doctor talked so casually about home and having a certain place to go back to.

But he doesn’t know where his home is anymore and discharge papers need an address, and maybe more importantly, he wants to know where stands. He wants to have a home, and he thinks, deep down, that he has one, but he isn’t sure if it is his to come back yet.

Carlos is lying next to him on the hospital bed once again and his face lights up at his words. It’s a real and genuine smile, making the corners of his eyes wrinkle. He brushes his thigh slowly and gently and kisses his temple.

“That’s great,” he whispers, half-against his hairline.

TK feels loved in that moment, but he still only manages to offer him a quick half-smile at his words. His mind is whirring, and he knows it’s Carlos, his Carlos, and he could ask anything from him, but still the uncertainty is making him uneasy.

TK stares at Carlos’ hand on his thigh. He is still wearing the hospital gown and a light hospital blanket is tangled on his legs, but he thinks he feels the warmth of his hand, still. It’s a nice feeling and he tries to focus on it.

Yet, he has trouble keeping his hands still and he ends up fidgeting with the corner of his blanket. Rolling and unrolling the corner of it constantly and he bites his cheek as he tries to figure out how to put his wish into words.

He knows Carlos is sensing his hesitancy and thinking, because he stays quiet, almost expectantly, and only moves his thumb, stroking his leg comfortingly.

TK’s aware he just needs to bite the bullet and ask it. It’s the only way he will gain even a bit of peace of mind, and he tries to remind himself that the answer doesn’t have to change anything. It doesn’t reveal anything about their love, and that they maybe they are as much in recovery as his body is and that it will be a process.

He exhales and looks up at him instead of the sleeve of his mustard yellow sweater. His heart seems to beat against his ribcage nearly painfully and surely enough the beeping of the heart monitor gets a little more frequent.

“When they discharge me, could—I come home?”

The words seem to hang in-between them for a moment and TK swallows a little, but he forces himself to keep his gaze on him.

It’s something they haven’t talked about yet. He has gathered from Carlos’ stories and explanations that he is living in the loft and moving back in together seems like the next step in making things go back to what they were, but it might not be that simple.

He promised to Carlos they could take things slow, but in reality, he thinks they have slipped right back into what they were, in love and solid, but he wants to give him the space and choice. The hurt he caused to him isn’t just something they can swipe under the rug and forget.

Carlos looks little taken aback. He blinks, perplexedly, as if he didn’t expect him to ask that, and TK isn’t sure what to make of it. He just stares at him back.

But he wants to respect whatever Carlos’ choice is, no matter how much he misses him and wants to go to home to him. He is aware that he needs to own his mistakes and possibly suffer the consequences of it, but he selfishly hopes that this won’t be one of those consequences.  

“It’s okay if it’s too fast,” he adds hurriedly, attempting to take away some of the pressure away from him, and vaguely gestures with his hand, “I already talked to my dad, he is fine with me staying there but--”

He falls abruptly silent when Carlos picks up his hand in his. He slowly intertwines their fingers and TK can only stare at the small moment of his fingers, the way they curl around his own and the way his palm covers the back of his own hand.

“Of course you can,” he says, softly but simply, as if there was no question about it, “it’s yours, too.”

It sounds like a technicality, but home is about so much more than that. Home is about safety, love and comfortableness and making it out to be what one wants, and TK knows that the idea of home means especially much to Carlos.  

He sighs, heavily, not daring to look at Carlos in the eyes, so he just stares at their hands. It feels comforting enough to do because they have always used their hands in a way to express the love that is between them, and in a way, he is already home just because his hand fits into his again.

“But do you want me there?”

His heart hammers again, but he tries to ignore it, the best that he can. It’s a simple question, but the answer might be anything but simple. It’s the thing that tore them apart the last time, and TK thinks the answer depends on how much Carlos has been able to forgive him for everything.

He is putting his heart on the line, again.

“Nothing would make me happier, I promise,” Carlos breathes out, almost impossibly softly, after a silence that seems to last forever, he kisses the corner of his eye, possibly because it’s the easiest place for him to reach, but there is something incredibly tender about it, “I hoped you’d want to move in.”

TK presses his lips together, feeling little overwhelmed at the feeling of being wanted and loved, and possibly forgiven. It’s a tidal wave of emotion and it makes his heart and stomach clench at the same time, but in the best way possible.

He tries to feel it all, happiness isn’t something he wants to ignore or put away, not after the months he has had.

“Good,” he murmurs, burying his face into Carlos’ shoulder, “because I want to come home.”

***

“Are you ready?” Carlos asks, and his smile is brighter and more easy going than in days. It’s brilliant and over-joyed and he looks good in his deep orange sweater, and he looks even better when TK knows that the bag hanging from his shoulder is filled with all of his belongings from the hospital and he gets to go home.

He gets to leave the hospital room behind him and move on with his recovery. Maybe half of the space in Carlos’ bag is taken up by the piles of paper that he got when they officially discharged him. Instructions about recovery, physiotherapy, meds that he still has to take and possible setbacks and symptoms that he has to keep an eye on.

“Yeah, just one thing,” TK says, as he stands up from the edge of the bed.

It feels good to be wearing his own clothes and stand on his own two feet. He feels more like himself than in ages and he doesn’t want to take that for granted.

Sun is shining brightly and the sunlight floods in from the windows, making the room look a lot lighter and smaller than it has felt for the past few weeks. He looks around the room, but the thing he still needs to do, what he wants to do, has nothing to do with the room.

Carlos is looking at him curiously, probably because he has been complaining for the past two days about how slowly time has moved on and that he cannot get out of the hospital fast enough. Now, his discharge papers are done, but he still lingers in the room.

He takes a step closer to Carlos and wraps his arms around him. His other hand rests on his hip, stroking it slowly and with the other, he just holds him close and draws an absentminded pattern in the space below his shoulder blades.  

“Thank you,” he murmurs, against his neck, kissing the point where he can feel his pulse, strong and steady.

He knows his recovery and hospital stay would have been a very different story if Carlos wasn’t there by his side, loving him like he has always done. He doesn’t even want to think about the state he would be in without him.

TK is happy and relieved to get out of the hospital and hopefully never again seeing the walls of the room 308 of the ICU, but mostly he just grateful. Grateful that he has the love of his life, smiling brighter than the sun, just at the idea of him coming home with him, and that he has a home to go to, and something worth while to do with the second chance of living.

“Any time,” Carlos laughs, sounding little surprised, into his ear.

***

“Are you okay?”

Carlos’ voice is barely above a whisper against his jawbone.

“Yeah,” he replies, sucking in his breath as he stares at the ceiling of the loft, their home. “I just—have a hard time believing I’m this lucky--and that you love me this much.”

Their new couch is a lot more comfortable and softer than the one that they lost in the fire. TK thinks it is an improvement and he doesn’t want to get up from there. He has everything he needs right there, when Carlos’ limbs are entangled with his and he can feel his smile against his neck.

He thinks his heart might simply explode from the happiness and love and he has hard time keeping tears away from his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if his coma dreams have just gotten better, but deep down, he knows it’s real. He couldn’t come up with something this perfect just in his head, even if he tried to.

“I love you a lot more than this,” Carlos points out, still softly, but he shifts a little, apparently trying to find a better position.

The couch might also be too small for two adults, but closeness is an opposite of a problem currently. It feels that they cannot get enough from each other or keep their hands away from each other and somehow they gravitate towards each other constantly, to touch in one way or another.

Maybe it is because they are trying to make up for the lost time, trying to fill up all the longing and yearning that was in them, and honestly, TK loves it. It makes him feel loved and important, and it feels good to be able to express his love.

He wouldn’t want it any other way, even if it probably makes the next few weeks seem like a small forever because he definitely isn’t cleared to do anything more than cuddling and making out on the couch.

“I know,” he replies, his voice laced with love, and it is a relief how easy it is to admit and believe, as he brushes Carlos’ forearm with his fingertips.

He is in awe of the amount of love that he gets to have, and gets to give back, and it is unbelievable how lucky he ended up despite of everything. When he and his dad crossed the state line, he never thought he could find soul-crushing and heart-destroying happiness and love that engulfed his entire being and life, and a home that is full of light and love and seems to glow with warmth.

TK knows he has to learn to accept it, take it as it is, and stop fearing that he will lose it. He is entirely sure it won’t be easy, but he is determined to do it and make it into his life. Yet, he hopes that he won’t ever take it for granted, but that he will always stay little in awe of it and of Carlos.

“And you deserve it all,” Carlos adds, grazing his cheek with his lips, as if he could read his mind and know exactly where his train of thought is heading.

Maybe that’s love, knowing each other so well and thoroughly that they are able to predict each other’s thoughts.

“No one has ever done this for me,” he adds, curling his fingers around Carlos’ wrist. He searches for his pulse there almost automatically, and then brings his hand near his face, to kiss his wrist.

“Bought an apartment?” he deadpans.

TK just elbows his side playfully, but it’s a relief to hear him joke about it, that it has become something they can casually bring up and joke about, instead of it becoming something they tiptoe around and avoid mentioning even in passing.

It gives him hope that it is something they can truly move on from.

“Been this determined and intent to make me feel at home.”

Carlos’ smile is delighted and placid, and his love is visible in his eyes, but there is something heavy in his eyes, too.

“I hope it feels like home,” he says, thoughtfully, tightening his hold on over his waist by pulling him little closer, “even though you didn’t get to furnish it.”

TK guesses it is a valid fear that it wouldn’t feel like his, because he hasn’t had any input in how the loft ended up looking, but it is not a fear that would have come true. The apartment looks like them. TK isn’t even sure how Carlos has managed to achieve it, but it looks as he imagined it when they first saw the place.

There are signs of both of them all over the place. Not just their belongings but things that are to their taste and liking, and it is incredibly peaceful and beautiful place, and he wouldn’t go changing anything about it. He is sure that once they live there, together, they will grow into it differently and something new will be added.

“It feels more like home than anything else, and that’s on you,” TK says, reassuringly as he turns on his side and touches his face, “I—I’m grateful you still wanted to pull a grand gesture for me, I know it must have taken guts.”

Carlos is a person who likes to do things for the people he loves. Favors, surprises and gifts, anything really. He feared a little that maybe because the last time he did a bigger surprise for him, everything went awry and tore them apart, that he would be reluctant to anything even remotely similar again.

That he would start to second-guess himself and hold back on things that he would want to do. It would have been the last thing he wanted to happen, and it might have been something that would have torn them more apart again.

“It takes trust,” Carlos corrects, “speaking of which, I’ve little something for you.”

As soon as he says it, he gets up. TK grunts because he doesn’t want him to leave and he only reluctantly lets go off his hand, making Carlos chuckle lightly. He makes his way to a shelf across the room, picking up a small wooden box and opening it swiftly and gracefully.

TK sits up on the couch, taking off his jacket and throwing on the backrest of the couch. He takes the time just to look around, taking it all in and marvelling that it’s a place he gets to call a home.  From the corner of his eye, he spots that Carlos definitely picks something up from it.

TK smiles at him widely when he turns around and faces him.

“What?”

“A housewarming gift,” Carlos clarifies, as he walks back up to him, stopping right in front of the couch.

TK just stares at him, little dumbfoundedly. He gestures to everything around them and chuckles a little in disbelief. “All of this wasn’t enough for you?”

Carlos just rolls his eyes and opens up his palm, revealing a shiny key resting on his palm. The key is connected to a chain, a necklace to be more accurate, and the key looks incredibly familiar. TK realises it is because he has had the same key earlier.

This one is just a lot more shinier and cleaner, it looks as if it has never been used or that it has never gotten scratched in the bottom pockets or bags to other items.

“Here.”

Carlos places it on his palm instead, and TK is only able to stare at it, trying to figure out the meaning behind it, but he is grateful for it, nonetheless, and he already adores it, simply because it is from him.

“It’s the last piece of the condo I have left, ages old spare-key that has been buried in my drawers at the precinct,” Carlos explains, sitting next to him, “it’s useless now and I know condo really never became a home for you and you don’t have to wear it but—you’re more my home than any place is.”

His voice sounds so genuine and there is no doubt that he wouldn’t mean his words. TK’s breath hitches a little, and somehow, he didn’t think it was even possible, he feels even more loved and wanted than before.

His heart cannot simply cope with all of the love and happiness it is creating and spreading in every nook of his body.

“Carlos—”

“Maybe it can be token for you that I really want you here,” he adds, shrugging slightly, but the smile stays on his face, persistently.

The key is hanging on his old chain. Carlos had taken the 252 pendant off it, sliding it on the same golden chain as his cross necklace. When TK had noticed it, he teased him about it, but Carlos had only replied that it’s convenient to have everything he believes in, everything that makes sense to him in this world, on one chain.

“I’ve no trouble believing it,” TK whispers, truthfully, kissing him briefly and softly on the lips, allowing himself to linger in the kiss a little longer than necessary, "but I'm gonna need like a real key to this place, too.”

Carlos laughs, reaching to pull out something from his back pocket. “So impatient.”

TK just rolls his eyes, but amusement dies from his expression when Carlos places another key on his palm. It’s slightly bigger and bulkier than the other. The shade of metallic is little darker and there are a bit of plastic covering the handle of it.

It looks like an ordinary key, but there they are, the most important keys in his life. One for his home and for the heart that he gets to love.