Four drinks over the course of four hours is a lot more than Kit normally indulges in, but it is his birthday. Or it will be tomorrow. People have been buying him drinks all night to celebrate and it would be rude to turn them down. Besides, Wayu and Thanu both pulled him aside at separate points early in the evening to tell him that they’d stay sober so he could enjoy himself. Kit wonders if the pair of them even know that they made him the same offer nearly word for word. It was thoughtful, and he made sure to find each of them after he had a few drinks to give his thanks. They both gave him nearly identical amused looks in response too, which Kit finds strange, but he’s trying not to dwell on it.

The night air is balmy when they finally tumble out of the restaurant. Kit turns back to make sure the check was paid in the chaos of everyone exiting. He trips twice turning around, but he only sees his own feet when he looks for an obstacle.

Thanu puts his hands firmly on Kit’s shoulders and steers him out onto the sidewalk.

“I’ve got this, Kit,” he says with a wink. “Go find Mark. I’m sure he’s looking for you.”

Kit watches Thanu disappear back into the restaurant and chews his lip. He has the nagging feeling he’s forgetting something important. It isn’t until he spots his brother with the group of freshmen who came out, that he remembers why he still feels a little awkward around Thanu. But when he sees Phai laughing among his friends, Kit is able to let it go for the night.

“P’Kit!”

Kit turns around just as Mark reaches him. They almost fall over together, but Kit manages to catch his hip against the edge of a planter. Mark drapes himself over Kit like he didn’t even notice.

“Mark,” Kit mutters. “I swear, if you don’t get your hands off my ass, I’m going to kill you.”

Kit is reasonably certain he’s only tipsy, but Mark… He glowers at his very drunk boyfriend — who keeps wrapping himself around Kit like some kind of horny boa constrictor. If they were back at Kit’s place, he wouldn’t mind, but they are very much in public right now. With all of their friends as witnesses.

Wayu’s brother, Saeb, wolf-whistles and the other freshmen follow suit until there’s a chorus of howling surrounding them. The alcohol in Kit’s system blunts his embarrassment, but he feels enough of it to be aggravated. At least he can see Thanu returning. He rounds up the freshmen with a brief lecture on acting politely toward their seniors.

Mark grins at Kit. But he’s slowly losing his grip on gravity, clinging to Kit’s belt like it might keep him and Kit’s pants from falling to the sidewalk.

“For fuck’s sake, Mark.” Kit hauls his boyfriend upright.

Mark immediately leans nearly all of his weight against Kit, head lolling on his shoulder. Kit staggers into the planter again. The world spins sideways for a moment before righting itself.

Kit tries to do some calculations in his head. Four drinks over four hours for someone his height and weight… Plus the food he ate and the water he drank… And how long it’s been since the last time he drank like this…

Mark’s hand slips under the back of his shirt and Kit curses, numbers flying out of his head.

“Need some help?” Wayu appears, waggling his eyebrows at Kit. He doesn’t wait for a reply, just fits himself under Mark’s arm and takes some of his weight. Kit breathes a sigh of relief.

Mark peers sideways at Wayu.

“Hey, Yu,” he says, words soft and slurred. “Don’t need your help. Already got Kit… Oops.” Mark giggles. “I mean, P’Kit.”

Kit’s face flames. He told Mark he could drop the honorifics between them when they’re alone. The effect of hearing Mark say his name like that now causes an almost Pavlovian response below the waist. Kit starts going through the periodic table of elements in his head row by row and tries not to look Wayu directly in the eye. Wayu plays dumb, and Kit appreciates him very much.

“I didn’t realize he drank so much,” Kit says as they help Mark stumble to the curb. “Did he sneak a bottle or something?”

“Uh, P’Kit.” Wayu sounds embarrassed. “You didn’t see…? Mark intercepted most of the shots the others were trying to give you.”

Kit’s ears burn. He glances at Mark now smiling at him like Kit is the sun, the moon, and the stars all rolled into one. Kit suddenly wants to kiss him — or scold him silly. Mark didn’t need to be such a martyr on Kit’s behalf. Kit can handle himself! He handled what drinks he did have just fine. And he knows how to turn people down. Though… It is rude to turn down drinks that are ostensibly birthday gifts. People have been giving him little tokens of appreciation all night — drinks as well as snacks and office supplies of dubious quality — and Kit didn’t actually have the heart to turn any of them away…

Okay. So Kit knows he would have drunk whatever someone handed him tonight, just to be polite. Apparently Mark knew that too and decided to take one for the team. What an idiot. An adorable, charming idiot who Kit loves very much.

They slowly lower Mark to the ground. Wayu takes a step back to rotate his shoulder and Kit crouches on the curb next to his boyfriend. He takes Mark’s chin between his fingers to make him focus. Mark blinks blearily.

“You are an idiot.” Kit shakes his head. He leans a little closer and whispers, “Thank you.”

Mark makes a noise that sounds like agreement.

“I love you, Kit,” he says — loudly enough that half the restaurant probably heard him.

The wolf whistles from their friends start again.

Kit whirls around. “You can all just shut up!” 

He hopes the others will chalk up his red face to his drinking. Or maybe they won’t even notice considering they’re all drunk too.

Wayu has his phone out. He glances at Kit.

“My driver will be here in five minutes. Are you and Mark coming with us?”

Kit shakes his head. “Mark has plans for tomorrow. He’s staying at my place.” He realizes what he’s saying and has to clench his jaw to stop from backpedaling. Thankfully, Wayu just hides a smile behind his hand. Kit closes his eyes and tries not to die of embarrassment in front of Mark’s best friend — who probably knows all the details of Mark’s plans, considering Kit is aware of how much time they’ve spent together in the last week.

“I already got a rideshare anyway,” Kit plows on. “Are you taking those hooligans with you?”

He gestures at the freshmen, now having some kind of thumb wrestling match with multiple opponents at the same time. Mark’s seniors from Engineering are egging them on while Thanu and some of Kit’s other friends from the medical faculty attempt to referee.

Wayu grins. “Unfortunately,” he affirms. “I promised I’d take them all to the beach this weekend. It’s a reward for all the hard work they did with Mark to put your birthday present together.” Wayu winks and leans closer to Kit. “Please pretend to be surprised tomorrow. Mark worked harder than all of them put it together.”

Mark tried to keep everything hidden from Kit, but Kit wrangled information out of Wayu and Phai so he knows Mark put together an elaborate scavenger hunt for his birthday. Tomorrow they’re supposed to go to all of the places that have been even slightly important to their relationship. Kit managed to pry the name of the ridiculously fancy restaurant where Mark made reservations for dinner afterward from Phai as well. It’s all a little too romantic for Kit’s tastes, but he loves Mark and sometimes that means just going along for the ride. It doesn’t hurt that indulging Mark’s whims usually finds him falling even more ridiculously in love.

Kit knows he’s smiling like a fool, but he can’t seem to stop. He doesn’t quite trust himself to speak, so he just nods.

Wayu’s grin widens.

Suddenly arms snake around Kit’s waist and there’s a familiar warm weight crashing into his back.

“P’Kit…” Mark drags out his name into more syllables than it requires. “Why did you leave me over there?”

Kit puts his hands over Mark’s to keep them from wandering somewhere they shouldn’t.

“You need to sit down,” Kit says. “Before you fall down.”

He tries to shift Mark’s arms, but Mark only hugs him tighter, resting his chin on Kit’s shoulder.

“I’m fine here,” Mark huffs. Kit is sure if he could see his face properly he’d melt over Mark’s petulant pout, all puppy dog eyes and pushed out lower lip. Dark fire sparks in his belly. He does his best to douse it.

“Come on, Mark.” Kit is trying to be patient with his boyfriend — and himself. “Wait on the curb, okay? Our ride will be here soon. Then we can go back to my place, and…” He trails off, hoping Mark might glom onto the idea of something better happening if he can wait. In reality, Kit thinks he should make them both drink a liter of water and go straight to sleep, but Mark doesn’t need to know that. Given Mark’s current state, he probably won’t even remember Kit’s unspoken suggestion.

Mark presses his face against Kit’s neck, and Kit startles at the sharp nip of teeth on delicate skin.

“Mark! Shit.”

Kit wrenches himself around. Mark takes the opportunity to grab Kit by the waist and pull him close so that they’re pressed together front-to-front. Breathless and a little too turned on, Kit can’t immediately shove him away.

“Is our ride here yet?” Mark murmurs, bending back toward Kit’s neck. He lays an open-mouthed kiss against the column of Kit’s throat.

“Fucking hell—”

Kit scrabbles at Mark in an attempt to push him away. He’d love nothing more than to give in to Mark’s attention, but this really isn’t the place. He finally pries Mark’s arms from around his waist and forces him back a step.

Mark sways and nearly falls, but someone wearing a navy blue engineering shirt catches him.

“Hey, Mark, watch it,” Jack says. He throws an arm over Mark’s shoulders and pokes him in the ribs. Kit sees Mark wince and feels a sympathetic twinge. “Aren’t you technically on a date here? You don’t want to upset your boyfriend.”

Jack shoots Kit a ridiculous wink that Kit ignores.

Mark mumbles something incoherent and tries to shrug out from under Jack’s arm.

“Hold on to him, P’Jack.” Kit shakes his head. “Or else he might fall over.”

Jack grins and pokes Mark in the ribs again. He glances at Mark’s other senior, Jill, who has just sidled up with a similar grin. “Our junior always knows how to have a good time. Should we keep this party going? Jill’s cousin owns a bar that doesn’t close until one— Hey!”

Jack exclaims as Mark surges forward, throwing him off-balance.

The next thing Kit knows, his boa constrictor boyfriend is wrapped around him again. He wishes their ride would just get here already. And that Mark wasn’t so wasted. All of his hands-on attention is starting to make Kit a little too hot for comfort.

“Get off, Mark,” Kit hisses, trying to remove Mark’s hands from his backside again. Mark clings stubbornly to him in response, but he seems to be losing the strength in his knees and he’s dragging them both toward the pavement. Kit lets out a frustrated noise, the world tilting around him again. He glances toward Wayu. “A little help, please?”

Wayu jogs over and makes a valiant attempt to haul Mark off of Kit. He doesn’t make much progress until Jack steps in to assist.

Kit takes a step backward and straightens his rumpled clothing. He tells himself sternly to calm down. When he looks up, Mark is hanging in between Jack and Jill, pouting like his heart is breaking.

“Don’t give me that look,” Kit snaps. “You were about to take us both out.”

“Well, well,” says a familiar voice. Kit blinks and sees a pack of engineering students from their university who weren’t at dinner with them. With them is the last person Kit feels like seeing right now: Padbok.

Padbok smirks as he circles Jack and Jill, still supporting Mark between them. He glances dismissively at Wayu before he settles on Kit with a leer.

“Looks like Mark is having trouble holding on to his doctor after all,” Padbok snarks. “I’ll take care of him for you, kid. He’s too cute to be left on his own.”

Kit leans back when Padbok raises a hand to touch his face, but his balance is off and he stumbles. Padbok catches him before he can fall. Kit blinks up at the senior, too startled by the foreign feeling of someone else’s arms around him to react properly.

Padbok’s dark eyes spark at him. “Wouldn’t you rather have a real man take you home tonight?”

Over Padbok’s shoulder, Kit sees Mark straighten as though electrocuted. Jack and Jill yelp as Mark yanks himself out of their grasp to leap at Padbok.

“Say that again, you—!”

The rest of Mark’s words are lost under Padbok’s shout when Mark throws a punch at him. Suddenly Kit is stumbling backwards again, flailing to regain his balance, while the boys from Engineering all yell at each other. Wayu scrambles away from the others. Mark and Padbok grapple with each other while Jack and Jill try to separate them. Wayu grabs Kit by the elbow, and Kit grabs him back to steady himself.

Kit’s head is spinning over what just happened — over what’s still unfolding in front of him. It’s all happening so fast, that he’s still just starting to process it when everyone else crowds around. Kit is too tipsy and too impatient to get home to deal with his boyfriend starting a brawl right now.

“Mark!” he yells. Wayu digs his fingers into the crook of Kit’s elbow to stop him from wading into the fray. “Quit it!”

Mark is muttering curses and throwing more punches and decidedly not listening to Kit. Meanwhile, Padbok easily fends off Mark’s fists, sparing a moment to shoot Kit a sly once-over. Mark growls another obscenity and his next punch catches Padbok in the jaw.

Padbok staggers. He rubs his chin and then spits on the sidewalk while Mark sways, panting for breath.

“Mark,” Kit says into the sudden lull. He shrugs Wayu off and slips between Jack and Jill so he can grab Mark by the arm. “Leave him alone now. Come on.”

The engineers who came with Padbok have gathered behind him. Jack and Jill join them. Kit can half-hear them urging Padbok to leave, but he’s more concerned with Mark — who is still breathing hard, still glaring daggers at his senior. Kit can’t take this. He doesn’t want to be the reason why Mark and Padbok don’t get along. He tugs urgently on Mark’s arm.

“Come on, Mark,” Kit repeats, distantly hearing a note of begging in his voice. “Please. He’s not worth it.”

“Yeah, listen to your little boyfriend,” Padbok says in a taunting tone.

Kit feels Mark’s muscles tense. He hangs onto Mark as he tries to tear himself away from Kit to launch at Padbok again, and he only makes it a few stuttering steps.

“Just let him bark! It doesn’t matter what he says.” Kit doesn’t know if he has the right words to keep Mark from getting into any more trouble. Everything’s so difficult through the haze of alcohol in his mind – which is why he usually doesn’t drink. Glancing at Padbok, Kit is increasingly sure that the older boy is just looking for an excuse to wage war on his junior. Kit isn’t about to let that happen.

“But—” Mark starts to protest, still pulling against Kit’s grip.

“No,” Kit interrupts.

Mark blinks wide-eyed at him.

Kit squeezes his fingers tight around Mark’s bicep. “I mean it,” he says. “Stop fighting right now or I’ll leave you here and go home by myself.”

Padbok makes a derisive noise. They turn toward him, and Padbok sneers.

“I’d never let anyone whip me like that, but you obviously like it. What a pussy.” He lets out a harsh little laugh while the other engineering students mutter behind him. Kit can’t tell whose side they’re on, and his already rising temper gets the better of him at the sight of them whispering.

“Fuck you,” he snaps at Padbok. He hears Wayu let out a gasp from somewhere behind him, but Kit doesn’t care. This guy is an asshole and Kit is tired of him ruining what was otherwise a good night. He tugs on Mark’s arm again. “Come on. Let’s just go.”

Mark relents and follows as Kit turns to walk away. Out of the corner of Kit’s eye though, he sees Mark give Padbok the finger with his free hand. Exasperated, Kit has turned halfway back to corral him when Padbok lunges forward and shoves Mark in the chest. Mark lurches into Kit, Kit loses his footing, and they both fall. Kit crashes to the concrete first with Mark sprawling helplessly on top of him. All of the air rushes out of Kit’s lungs and for a moment he can only think about how he can’t breathe.

Mark’s hands fumble over Kit. If he’s checking for broken bones, Kit thinks distantly, he’s doing a terrible job. He blinks helplessly up at Mark, still trying to inhale. Mark meets his eyes for half a second, but apparently he’s satisfied that Kit isn’t dying because he bounces up to his feet a moment later and flings himself at Padbok with a wordless roar Kit can’t parse.

Kit lies on the ground and gulps at air like a stranded fish until Wayu helps him sit up. Everyone around them seems to be yelling or trying to separate the brawling boys. Kit wants to groan in frustration. Mark is such an idiot. Why couldn’t he just walk away when Kit asked him to?

When his lungs finally fill with air again and the stars have dimmed from his eyes, Kit glances at Wayu and mutters, “This is so stupid.”

Wayu nods. He rests a hand on Kit’s shoulder and surveys the chaos.

“Maybe it’s a good idea to let them fight it out, P’,” he tells Kit. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mark like this before. But the others will keep them from hurting each other too much.” He turns wide eyes back to Kit. “You’re okay, right?”

Kit nods. He opens his mouth to say something else but the yelling suddenly increases in volume. He blinks and when he looks Mark is on the ground again, Padbok standing over him. Jack and Jill are holding him back by his elbows.

“That’s what you get for disrespecting your seniors!” Padbok shouts. His friends are shaking their heads. Jack and Jill haul him bodily backwards before shoving him at the other engineering students with orders to take him home.

Kit struggles to his feet with Wayu’s help. When they reach Mark, he’s just been pulled upright by Phai and Saeb. Thanu is kneeling at Mark’s side, carefully cradling Mark’s right arm in his hands. Kit’s heart lurches into his throat when he sees the way his wrist is bent. His brain tries to kick into Dr. Kit mode — distal radius fracture, probably a Colles fracture from the way the arm is bent upwards, needs a CT scan and immediate immobilization — but his heart drowns out the details in an incoherent flood of anxiety.

Kit whips around to look for Padbok, fury sweeping through him, but all he sees are the other boys, quickly hustling him away. Jack and Jill are the only two engineers left, both giving Kit guilty, embarrassed looks. Kit doesn’t know why exactly. They didn’t do anything wrong.

“Don’t worry about him, Kit,” Thanu says in a low voice, and Kit whips back around. Thanu looks up at him, dark eyes tight with concern. “Someone else needs you right now.” Thanu tips his head toward Mark.

Kit lowers his gaze to Mark’s face. His boyfriend has gone pale, his eyes dazed. Kit blinks. His mind flashes through all the things he’s ever learned about what to do in emergency situations, and Kit knows he’s having the opposite of a helpful reaction right now. He needs to get a hold on his own emotional response so he can help Mark. He wishes he hadn’t drunk anything at all.

He looks more intently at Mark’s wrist. His first assessment seems correct — which means the sooner he gets Mark to a hospital, the better.

Kit glances at Thanu. “Did you see what happened?”

Thanu looks uncomfortable. “I was trying not to get involved. I think Padbok punched him.”

Kit is irked to remember that Thanu and Padbok have some ongoing drama. He sighs and looks at Phai and Saeb. “Did you…?”

The freshmen fall all over themselves recounting the fight and informing Kit that Padbok landed a punch to Mark’s chin. It seems like Mark tried to catch himself and broke his wrist for his troubles. Kit heaves another sigh.

“Thanu, can you help me get him into a car?” Kit says. “I’m going to take him straight to the emergency room.”

“P’Kit,” Mark says suddenly and they all turn toward him like they forgot he was even there. “I’m sorry,” Mark says, his voice quaking. Kit meets his gaze for a moment, his stomach twisting with nerves, before he has to look away again. There’s something burning behind his eyes, but he doesn’t have time to deal with it right now.

“Help me?” he asks Thanu again. Thanu nods, and together they manage to get Mark’s arms around their shoulders, being careful of his wrist, so they can lift him to his feet.

Mark remains unusually quiet while they guide him over to Kit’s rideshare, finally waiting at the curb. Their friends press around them, asking what they can do to help. Kit fights feelings of suffocation. He waves them off, all too aware of how drunk everyone still is despite the sobering moment. He hands Mark over to Thanu and goes to explain to his driver that he needs a change in destination.

Wayu grabs Kit before he can get into the car.

“Do you want us to meet you there? Or I can go with you.”

Kit looks at Mark’s best friend. He should feel grateful, but he’s too agitated to make the right emotion show on his face.

“It’s okay, Wayu,” he says, wishing his words didn’t feel so clipped. “It’s better if you take everyone else home. The hospital staff won’t be too happy about Mark being drunk. Don’t need the whole gang to show up and fuel the fire.” He manages a wry look, and Wayu chuckles.

“Okay, P’Kit,” he says. “But… Mark is gonna be okay, right?”

Kit glances at Mark, slumped in the backseat of the car, his arm held gingerly in his lap.

“It’s just a broken wrist,” Kit tells Wayu. “He needs a cast. He’ll be fine. Though he may regret some things once he sobers up.”

Thanu moves to stand beside them. “Don’t worry,” he tells Wayu. “Kit knows what he’s talking about. Besides, he can take care of Mark better than the rest of us.”

He gives Kit a knowing little smile, and Kit frowns over the way his heart lurches in his chest again. But Wayu seems appeased. He nods and then leans down to look at Mark in the car.

“Hey, Mark! Don’t give P’Kit any trouble!”

Mark grimaces and closes his eyes instead of responding.

Wayu straightens, glancing curiously between Kit and Thanu. “Are you sure he’ll be okay?”

A chill traces a ghostly finger down Kit’s spine. He shakes it off.

“He’ll be fine,” he repeats firmly. “I’m gonna go now. I’ll text you all later to tell you how it goes.”

Thanu claps Kit on the shoulder and Wayu smiles at him before they both turn back to their other friends to explain the situation.

Kit takes a deep breath and slides into the backseat next to Mark. He leans forward to give the driver the name of the closest hospital before buckling his seatbelt.

“Mark,” Kit whispers as the car starts. He slips his hand into Mark’s good one and squeezes. “You can hold onto me if it hurts, okay?”

Mark doesn’t say anything. But he squeezes Kit’s hand.

~

It takes forever after they check in at the emergency room for someone to actually take a look at Mark. When the attending doctor finally shows up at a quarter to three, it’s a man who knows Kit from an internship he did last summer. The moment the nurse wheels Mark away for a CT scan of his arm, Kit gets chewed out for letting Mark drink well past the legal limit.

“You’re his senior. You should be watching out for him,” the doctor says. He shakes his head, examining Mark’s blood work.

Not just his senior, but also his boyfriend, Kit thinks with a guilty pang. He massages his temples and looks at his watch. At this rate, they won’t be home until after sunrise.

The doctor glances up at Kit, and shakes his head. He leaves the room for a moment and comes back with a bottle of water.

“Drink that,” the doctor says, and Kit hears the unspoken: “Sober up, kid.”

Kit presses his hands together in a polite wai and takes the water. His head is pounding and he feels a little sick to his stomach, but he can’t tell if that last is from the alcohol or the whole situation.

It also takes forever for Mark to come back from his scan, and when he does he has an IV bag hooked up to his left arm. He glances at Kit, and his cheeks go pink. At least he looks fairly sober now.

The doctor returns and explains that they have to set Mark’s broken wrist in a splint for a few days.

“The splint is to keep it immobile while we wait for the swelling to go down,” he says. “After that we can put you in a cast. You’ll probably have to wear it for two months or so to make sure it heals properly. It’s a clean break, but a significant one. No shortcuts, I’m afraid.”

He taps the IV bag and raises his eyebrows at Mark.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better, sir,” Mark says quietly. He attempts to wai, but seems to remember his wrist a moment too late and winces when he tries to move it.

“Never mind that,” the doctor says, waving a hand. “The pain relievers we gave you ought to keep most of this a dull roar. Okay? Here we go.”

The nurse holds Mark’s arm still while the doctor applies the splint. Kit stays in his chair, but he watches what they’re doing closely — because he might need to do this as well someday, but also because it’s easier to concentrate on the procedure than it is to see what Mark’s face must be doing right now. Kit’s heart is pounding so hard in his chest he feels like he was the one who got hurt instead of Mark. He presses the water bottle against his forehead and tries to focus.

After Mark’s arm is wrapped and the IV bag is empty, the doctor clears him to leave. Kit finishes filling out forms and calls for another rideshare before offering Mark his shoulder to lean on while they wait.

Mark pulls a face.

“I’m really okay now,” he says, directing his gaze down the street instead of looking at Kit.

Kit frowns. Something isn’t right about that response, he’s sure. But his head still aches and the glimmering rays of the sun on the horizon are stabbing at his eyes, so he decides to let it go for now.

They were supposed to go to Kit’s place after the restaurant, but given the turn of events, Kit thinks it would probably be better to take Mark back to his apartment instead. When their car shows up, Kit confirms the address with the driver before turning to help Mark into the backseat. But Mark has already stuck himself there without Kit’s help.

Kit frowns again.

“Are you okay?” Kit asks once they’re a few minutes down the road and Mark remains silent. “I mean, I know you’re not okay. But are you mad at me or something?”

Mark closes his eyes and sinks further into his seat.

“I’m not mad at you, Kit,” he says softly.

Kit stares. He feels sick to his stomach again. He’s been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and he has a hangover, but he doesn’t think that’s why he feels so off-kilter. There’s something about Mark’s wan face, the way he keeps not looking at Kit, how he hasn’t even touched him since they first left the restaurant...

Feeling stupid, Kit reaches for Mark’s hand where it rests on the seat between them. He hesitates, sure that he’s being ridiculous, and then rests his fingertips on the back of Mark’s hand. His heart is jackhammering in his chest. There’s a burning in the back of his throat.

Mark doesn’t open his eyes, but after a small eternity he turns his hand over and slowly laces their fingers together.

Kit takes a breath.

And then another.

~

Mark struggles to get out of the car and relents to letting Kit help. Kit keeps his arm around Mark’s waist once he’s got him upright — and for one fragile moment he hangs on tight, waiting for Mark to pull away. Instead, Mark loops his good arm over Kit’s shoulders and leans into him. Kit exhales and they walk that way together up to the apartment.

The moment Kit unlocks the door, Mark pulls away and disappears into the bathroom. Kit watches him go without saying anything. He’s not really sure what he can say at this point. It’s likely that he’s overreacting to what is a perfectly normal pain response. He just needs some sleep. Everything will be fine after they’ve both gotten a chance to rest.

Kit’s phone buzzes with a low battery notification. He tugs it out of his pocket to see that he’s gotten a slew of worried texts from Wayu and Phai. There’s also a reassuring one from Thanu saying he’ll take notes in class on Monday if Kit needs to stay with Mark for a while.

Kit sends a mass text to let everyone know Mark needs a cast but is otherwise okay. He silences his alarm — set to go off in barely an hour — and plugs the phone into the charger Mark leaves next to the bed for him.

There are muffled noises coming from the other side of the bathroom door. Goosebumps prickle Kit’s arms. He’s about to check on Mark when the door opens and his boyfriend emerges wearing pajama pants — and a shirt pulled halfway over his head.

“I can’t, uh…” Mark struggles to untangle himself.

Kit examines the problem. Somehow Mark managed to get the shirt off over his splinted arm, but then he got caught while tugging it the rest of the way off with only one hand.

“Here.” Kit reaches up to ease the shirt free. He carefully avoids jostling Mark’s arm before tossing the shirt in the laundry basket. When he turns back, Mark is fidgeting, still not looking at Kit.

Kit frowns and goes to retrieve Mark’s pajama top. He hands it over with a raised eyebrow.

Mark stares at it for a moment before sighing. He pushes the top gently back at Kit. “Never mind. I’ll sleep without it. It’s hot in here anyway.”

“Mark.” Kit steps in front of him before Mark can move over to the bed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mark brushes his eyes over Kit’s face.

“I’m fine,” he insists though he sounds faraway. “Just tired. Can we go to sleep now?” He doesn’t wait for Kit to answer before side-stepping around him and easing himself down onto the mattress.

Kit realizes he has Mark’s top balled up in his hands. He forces himself to smooth it out and lay it over Mark’s desk chair before disappearing into the bathroom himself.

The mirror over the sink reveals the dark circles under Kit’s eyes while he brushes his teeth. He looks — and feels — like he hasn’t slept in a week. Kit peers at the red spot on his neck from where Mark bit him earlier. It doesn’t hurt, but the bruises on his backside from where he fell on the ground sure do. He undresses and twists around to look at himself in the mirror. He’s not black and blue, but he’s got a few good scrapes from the concrete. He shakes his head.

Stupid Mark and his stupid jealousy. Stupid Padbok and his stupid prodding. Kit just knows Padbok was looking for a fight. He doesn’t appreciate Mark actually giving it to him, no matter the provocation. Ugh. Idiots. Both of them.

Kit splashes water on his face before going to grab a pair of Mark’s pajamas to wear because he wasn’t planning to be here tonight and he didn’t leave any the last time he slept over. He pauses upon returning to the bathroom. He should probably fix that. Mark has some empty space in his closet. Kit could just leave a few things here so this doesn’t happen again.

Mark’s pajamas are too long, and Kit feels a bit like he’s drowning in them. But they also smell like Mark’s detergent with just a hint of his cologne. A wave of dizziness washes over him, and he sinks down onto the edge of the bathtub.

Anger and guilt and worry churn through him, all wrapped into the relentless pounding still happening inside his skull. He needs to calm down. Mostly because he knows he needs sleep and he’s never going to get there with this typhoon raging.

Kit wraps his arms around himself and breathes in the familiar scent of Mark until he begins to relax.

When he returns to the bedroom, Mark has turned away from him. Kit just keeps moving, going around the room to turn out the lights and draw the shades down over the sunlit windows. He fishes Mark’s phone out of his jeans and turns off his alarm before plugging it in to charge beside Kit’s.

Finally, he allows himself to sit on the bed and look at his boyfriend. Mark doesn’t react to his presence at all, but Kit reasons that he’s probably already asleep. He was pretty drunk earlier, and the hospital gave him all sorts of pain medication too. Kit chews his lip, trying to reason with himself further that these things alone could be why Mark has been acting so strange since the fight. His own sleep deprivation is probably playing with his anxiety too, making him see shadows where they don’t exist.

Kit glances at his watch.

It’s his birthday now, officially.

He crawls under the covers and stares at Mark’s back until sleep finally drags him under.

~

Kit wakes to find himself pressed up against Mark, one arm draped over his waist. Mark’s breathing is deep and even, so for a long time Kit just lies there, holding him, dreading what he’ll be faced with when Mark wakes up too.

Sleep did nothing to dispel his guilt and worry from the night before.

But he can’t lie here forever letting his emotions consume him. He should figure out what time it is, go pick up some food and medication...

He’s careful not to bump Mark’s splinted arm as he pulls away and then rolls off the other side of the bed. Kit stands for a moment, fighting a clear feeling of wrong that he can’t identify the source of. He looks at Mark, but he hasn’t moved or made a sound and—

Ah.

Kit has never gotten out of a bed he’s shared with Mark without his boyfriend murmuring sleepy protests and grabbing at Kit to make him stay. He’s usually successful too, tugging Kit close so he can resume his favorite sleeping position with his face pressed into Kit’s hair.

Kit bites his lip. It’s fine. Mark is probably too doped up on pain medication to have even felt Kit get out of bed.

He picks up his watch from the nightstand; it’s just past noon. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Kit grabs his phone and sinks onto the edge of the bed — within easy reach of Mark, just in case — and starts scrolling through his notifications. He has dozens of messages wishing him a happy birthday, but he dismisses those in favor of Wayu’s reply from this morning telling Kit to let him know if he needs anything for Mark.

Or if YOU need anything, P’Kit! It is your birthday after all. I guess Mark can’t take you on his scavenger hunt now…

There’s a cute gif of a crying puppy attached to the last text. Kit quirks his mouth into half of a smile. He shoots Wayu a brief text back thanking him and telling him not to worry, hoping he’ll enjoy his time at the beach with the freshmen. Then he texts Phai and asks him to bring some clothes from Kit’s apartment when he gets back that evening.

“What time is it?”

Kit turns immediately toward the sound of Mark’s drowsy murmur. When Mark reaches for him, Kit shifts closer and Mark wraps his good arm around Kit’s waist. He blinks, obviously not really awake yet.

But he’s touching Kit of his own free will. Kit feels a weight ease off his shoulders.

He sets his phone down and reaches forward to brush Mark’s hair back from his forehead. Mark’s eyes drift closed. He’s tracing little circles over Kit’s hip with his fingertips. Pleasant shivers race up Kit’s spine.

“Go back to sleep if you’re still tired,” Kit says softly. “You’ve only been out for a few hours.”

Mark only tugs on his waist in reply, trying to haul Kit closer.

A small smile steals across Kit’s face. He leans down to kiss Mark’s temple and right away notices that his skin is warm. His smile slips. Is it too warm? He rests the back of his hand over Mark’s forehead.

“How are you feeling?” Kit puts his other hand over his own forehead with a frown. Mark isn’t that hot actually; it’s probably just because the air conditioning hasn’t been running. Kit rests his fingers lightly against Mark’s pulse. It’s slow and steady, the way it should be for someone who just woke up. Kit is jumping at shadows again.

Mark taps on Kit’s hip and quirks his mouth. “Don’t worry about me,” he says. His eyes open and his warm gaze turns Kit’s insides to jelly. “What time is it?” Mark asks again.

Kit squirms against Mark’s tapping fingers, but it’s mostly for show. After last night, he’s ridiculously pleased Mark is touching him like he normally does.

“Mmm. It’s just after twelve o’clock. Are you hungry? I’ll order us something.”

Mark’s eyes have gone wide while Kit was speaking.

“Twelve?” He tries to sit up, but he’s having trouble because Kit is in the way and he can only use one arm.

Kit is about to help, but Mark makes a strange noise, half-groan and half-obscenity. He sinks back onto the pillow, eyes pinched shut.

“What happened?” Kit asks, alarmed. “Did you bump your arm?” He’s scanning the splint, trying to see if something is out of place.

“No,” Mark says in a strained voice. “I just… Maybe I have a hangover…?” He rubs his forehead and gives Kit a rueful look.

Kit’s shoulders relax. Of course. Mark was awfully drunk last night —  way drunker than Kit who is still feeling a vague headache just behind his eyes — and while the IV at the hospital probably helped, it’s not a magical cure-all.

“How’s your stomach then?” Kit asks in a slightly softer voice. He massages Mark’s shoulder, hoping to distract him from lingering hangover symptoms.

Mark reaches up to grab his hand.

“It’s fine,” he says. “But, Kit… It’s past noon?” He bites his lip and furrows his brow. “It’s your birthday. I was going to make you breakfast…” He glances around the room and looks even more distressed. He deflates further into the bed. “I thought we were going back to your place. Why are we at mine?”

“You don’t remember coming here instead?” Kit is unnerved. Was Mark still that drunk when they got here just after sunrise? He wasn’t acting like it. He squeezes Mark’s hand. “What do you remember from last night?”

Mark shakes his head, winces, and stops.

“It’s your birthday,” he stresses, completely ignoring Kit’s questions. “I want to spoil you. I had a whole day planned. I was going to—” He cuts himself off, struggling to sit up again.

Kit helps him, debating whether or not he should reveal that he already knows about those plans. Mark clenches a hand tight on Kit’s shoulder and his agonized look once he’s upright banishes all other thoughts from Kit’s head.

“Mark,” Kit says firmly. “Are you sure your arm doesn’t hurt? What’s the matter?”

Mark shakes his head briefly, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He drags in a ragged breath before meeting Kit’s gaze.

“I’m okay, really,” he insists. Kit can tell he’s trying to smile, but he just ends up grimacing again.

Alarm bells are going off in Kit’s head.

“You are not fine,” he says. “Stop being so stubborn about it and lie back down.”

Mark opens his mouth, but Kit is already pushing him back onto the bed — as gently as he can. “Don’t be an idiot,” Kit snaps when Mark tries to resist anyway.

Mark lies back, his lower lip trembling. He’s blinking rapidly, staring up at Kit, looking for all the world like he’s on the verge of a meltdown.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

Kit has had about enough of this.

“You already apologized last night,” Kit says tersely. “What else are you sorry about? Just tell me what’s wrong and let me help.”

Mark is turning his head, but Kit catches him by the chin before he can actually look away.

“Stop that,” Kit grates. “Talk to me.”

Kit wishes he didn’t sound so angry, but he can’t seem to get a handle on the storm of emotions brewing inside him.

When Mark meets his gaze, Kit is shocked to see that his boyfriend is fighting back tears.

“My head hurts, okay?” Mark says in a wobbly voice. “And I wanted you to have a good time last night, but I messed that up. Now I’m messing up your actual birthday too, just because I can’t—” His voice breaks, and he swallows hard. When he speaks again, he still sounds like he’s on the verge of crying. “I had a plan,” Mark says. “I worked really hard on it.”

Kit shakes his head. He grabs Mark’s good hand, clasping it tight. “I know,” he says. “It’s okay though. It’s not a big deal. We can celebrate my birthday whenever. I don’t—”

“It is a big deal!” Mark interrupts, halfway to frantic. “It’s your birthday. And it’s the first one you’ve had since we started dating. I asked everyone to help me—” He stops talking when his voice breaks again. When he tries to draw breath, there’s a horrible hiccuping sound. Kit’s heart cracks in two.

“Mark,” Kit says, as though saying his name might stop whatever is happening here. The storm inside of Kit is blowing full-force. He needs to do something to stop the tsunami threatening to drown them.

What would Mark do?

Mark is obviously spiraling. Whenever Kit does that, Mark has a way of breaking Kit out of it again. By himself, Kit would just think and think and think until he’s got the situation so picked over that there’s nothing left to worry at. But Mark’s solution to a problem is usually cleaner. And faster.

So Kit does what he knows Mark would do if their positions were reversed right now. He lies down and wraps himself around Mark as tightly as he can. Mark doesn’t say anything, but he hangs on hard. Kit buries his face in the crook of Mark’s neck and breathes in the warm sage and cedarwood smell of him.

“It’s okay,” Kit whispers while Mark shakes, obviously trying not to break down completely. Kit keeps talking softly, not sure if Mark is able to listen, knowing it’s important to say the words anyway. “It’s really okay, Mark, I promise. I did have a good time last night. And I know you had big plans for today. I appreciate that. I know how much time you spent on them. But you’re hurt, and plans change. I just want to take care of you the way you always take care of me. You’ll let me do that, won’t you? Please?”

Kit loosens his grip so he can glance up at Mark’s face and gauge how he’s doing. Mark’s eyes are closed tight, tears trembling on his eyelashes. Kit’s chest constricts. He reaches up to brush the tears away.

“It’s okay,” he repeats softly, and he watches a tremor go through Mark in response. Kit skims his fingers over Mark’s cheekbone. What else can he say to make this better? He hasn’t seen Mark this worked up about something since the time he told Kit he’d walk away from this before it had even begun, before there had even been a them. Kit keeps gently stroking Mark’s cheek. He doesn’t want to think about that time; it’s well in their past, and Kit has zero intention of letting either of them walk away from each other again.

“Mark,” he whispers. “You’re the most important person to me. Just being with you makes me happy. I don’t need grand gestures or presents from you. I just need you.”

He leans forward to kiss Mark on the mouth. It’s a soft kiss, almost chaste, and for half a moment Kit wonders if he should leave it at that. But Mark’s fingers curl into the fabric of Kit’s shirt and his lips part. They kiss soft and slow and warm. Kit feels himself melting into Mark the same way he feels Mark melting into him. The rest of the world fades into the background and they kiss until the tension drains away.

Kit curls on his side with Mark’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. At the same time they both let out long, shaky breaths.

After a few moments of quiet cuddling, Kit says, “Tell me how you’re actually feeling. You said your head hurts?”

“Dr. Kit,” Mark murmurs with something close to amusement.

Kit thinks the hurricane might be subsiding; the tempest of his emotions diffuses into something softer.

“That’s me,” he replies, attempting to match Mark’s levity. He places his open hand on Mark’s chest, watches it rise and fall as Mark breathes. “Will you please tell me how you’re feeling now?” he asks.

Mark shifts, somehow managing to pull Kit closer in the process of rearranging himself. Kit hides his smile, and then immediately reconsiders his reticence and tilts his head up so he can kiss the edge of Mark’s jaw. Mark hums appreciatively.

“Okay,” Mark says, and Kit is pleased to hear him sound a little steadier. “My head hurts, yeah. I woke up a few times because of it.” He wiggles the pinkie finger of his splinted arm with a little wince. “And my wrist hurts too. Kind of feels like it’s on fire.”

Kit bolts upright to stare fiercely down at Mark.

“Why didn’t you wake up then?” he demands. “Why didn’t you say something right away? You should’ve told me! You need more painkillers and water and probably—”

“Kit.”

Mark’s tone makes Kit freeze in the act of scrambling off the bed. Mark has wrapped his fingers around Kit’s arm and is trying to tug him back into place beside him.

“Stay with me, please,” Mark says quietly. “I don’t want you to get up yet.”

Kit grumbles, but what can he do? He lets Mark pull him back down. But he can’t help the questions that continue to spill out of him

“How does your head hurt? Is it because you have a hangover?”

He presses two fingers gently against the inside of Mark’s splinted wrist to make sure he can feel a strong pulse there.

“It makes sense that your wrist hurts,” he tells Mark. “It’s still swollen. But painkillers will help. And rest.”

Mark sighs, but he seems resigned to letting Kit fuss over him.

“I must have a hangover,” Mark says. “But I’ve never had one like this before. Usually I want to throw up, but this is just, like, the worst headache I’ve ever had in my life. When I sat up earlier, I thought I was gonna pass out.”

Mark sounds a bit flippant as he explains, but Kit hears more alarm bells. He thinks back to the night before, trying to remember what he saw only briefly: Mark sprawled on the sidewalk at Padbok’s feet. At the time, Kit’s focus was on Mark’s obviously broken wrist, but now he’s considering how wasted Mark was when he got punched. It’s not too much of a stretch to imagine him hitting his head on the concrete when he fell.

Kit sits up. He hushes Mark with a glare when he starts to complain about Kit moving again.

“Mark, this is very important. I want you to think about what happened last night and tell me what you remember.”

Mark pinches the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know,” he sighs. “It’s all a blur honestly. I remember P’Padbok showed up and he said something…” He glances at Kit, a pink blush blooming across his cheeks. “Something about you.”

Kit rolls his eyes. “Yes, he did. And you were very stupid and decided to pick a fight with him even though I told you not to.”

Mark pokes Kit’s cheek, and Kit blinks down at him.

“Your dimples,” Mark says softly. “So cute.”

“Mark…” Kit glares some more.

“Okay, okay.” Mark tries to wink, but it looks more like a wince, and Kit narrows his eyes. “I got into a fight with P’Padbok, right. I remember. And he—”

Mark suddenly looks agitated.

“Kit!” he exclaims. “He pushed me and I fell into you, and you—”

“I’m fine,” Kit reassures him immediately. But his heart swells in his chest. Leave it to Mark to remember Kit’s graceless tumble and worry more about Kit being hurt than his own injuries. “I just got the wind knocked out of me,” he says. “Maybe a bruise. I’m honestly fine.”

“I should make you strip and prove that to me,” Mark mutters, his gaze sparking with a frankly bewitching mix of anger and horniness that makes Kit want to do exactly what he says.

Kit takes a steadying breath. “You’re the one who actually got hurt,” he points out. “Go on. What else do you remember?”

“I don’t know,” Mark says slowly, dragging his eyes over Kit’s body like he can assess him through his clothes. “I’m pretty sure I got punched, and the next thing I remember is you and P’Thanu walking me to the car.”

Kit raises an eyebrow. “You don’t remember getting punched?”

“Not really,” Mark says. He closes his eyes and then puts his hand over them — as though the extra layer of darkness might help him think. “It’s all blurry. I guess because I was so drunk.” He’s blushing again.

“Mark,” Kit says carefully. “Will you please turn on your side for me?” He thinks that will be easier than asking him to sit up again.

Mark sounds uncertain. “Why?”

“Just do it,” Kit says. “Please?” he adds softly, stroking Mark’s cheek with his fingertips.

Mark takes a deep breath like he’s steeling himself and shifts onto his side with a little mumble of half-stifled pain.

Kit’s heart is pounding, but he tries to maintain calm as he threads his fingers through Mark’s hair. He waits for Mark to relax before he keeps going, feeling Mark’s scalp as gently as he can. When he touches a spot on the back of his head, Mark winces, and Kit removes his hand. He urges Mark to lie flat again.

Mark blinks owlishly up at him.

“My love,” Kit murmurs, using the pet name he so rarely employs in hopes that it will soften the blow. “You don’t have a hangover. You have a concussion. You probably hit your head on the sidewalk when you fell. That’s why it hurts so much. And why you’re having trouble remembering what happened. Short term memory can be disrupted by that kind of thing.” He leans over to snag his phone off the nightstand. “We have to go back to the hospital.”

Mark remains quiet while Kit reads about signs and symptoms of a concussion and concludes that his assessment is more than likely correct. He tenses, thinking about Phai and Saeb helping Mark sit up almost immediately last night, thinking about him and Thanu hauling Mark to his feet not long after. Kit knows to never move someone with a potential head injury. And he didn’t tell the doctor that Mark was in a fight either. If he had, maybe the hospital staff would have noticed that Mark was suffering more than just a broken wrist beneath his drunkenness. Oh fuck, Kit thinks. What if there’s something seriously wrong and Kit has managed to waste a whole twelve hours because he was too tipsy last night to notice and too damn slow to think of it until now?

“Kit,” Mark whispers, and the sound of his voice so soft and worried makes Kit shudder. “Baby,” Mark says, even softer. And Kit realizes that Mark has a hold of his wrist, that he’s slowly moving his hand up Kit’s arm, pulling gently on him.

Kit stops himself from collapsing against Mark’s chest, but only just, and only because he’d rather step into traffic than cause Mark any more pain. But he lets Mark pull him close again, and he buries his face in the crook of Mark’s neck while he tries to remember how to breathe.

“You’re freaking out,” Mark murmurs. He kisses the top of Kit’s head. “Is it that bad?”

“No,” Kit mumbles back in a muffled voice because he’s pressed up against Mark and not ready to be let go of yet. “Probably not. I’m catastrophizing.” He knows he is, but that doesn’t necessarily mean the catastrophic scenarios couldn’t be in motion.

Mark strokes his back and kisses the top of his head again.

“Stop worrying about me,” he says with what Kit thinks is remarkable calm. “I’ll be okay.”

Kit’s thoughts keep pinging between the horrible realities he knows head injuries can present — and the horrible guilt welling up inside of him because he should have paid more attention in the first place and then he wouldn’t be freaking out like this. He needs to focus. He needs to help. All he’s doing right now is making Mark comfort him when really it should be the other way around.

Kit blinks back angry tears and sits up. Mark’s hand falls to the small of his back and rests there, warm and steadying.

“Hospital,” Kit says shortly. “You need a CT scan. Maybe an MRI. I’ll drive you.”

He gets up and starts putting things in order before Mark can protest. Kit ignores the way Mark’s eyes track him around the apartment as he pulls on his jeans from the night before and then grabs two shirts out of Mark’s closet. He puts one on himself and takes the other over to Mark.

“Can you put this on?” Kit asks. “I’ll help. Sit up slowly though.”

Mark lets Kit help him upright. He watches Kit with the same wary quiet as Kit helps him put his shirt on, only making a face when the sleeve catches on his splint. Kit’s tidal wave of guilt crests higher, and he tries to be as gentle as he can while he buttons Mark’s shirt and eases his splinted arm back into its sling.

Kit grabs Mark’s backpack and shoves their phones and wallets and keys into it. When he turns back to help Mark stand, Mark has already levered himself off the bed on his own, his face drawn with the effort. Kit hisses, leaping back to his boyfriend’s side. He supports Mark’s weight with one shoulder and wraps both of his arms around Mark’s waist.

“I said I’d help!” Kit’s stomach is twisting up over how pale Mark looks, the sweat at his temples, the way his breathing has gone ragged again. “Don’t be a hero right now,” Kit scolds. “It’s not going to win you any points.”

Mark makes a small sound that might be of chagrin or might just be more pain leaking through his grimace. He leans into Kit’s embrace.

“Okay, Dr. Kit,” he says with a shaky laugh. “Tell me what you want.”

Kit quirks his mouth at the echo of words they’ve both said in a much different situation.

“You’ll be a good boy and listen to me then?” Kit says, squeezing Mark gently.

Mark’s grin looks real this time. “I’ll do whatever you tell me to do,” he replies. “Especially if you promise to wear my clothes more often…” He eyes the shirt Kit stole from his closet, and Kit resists the urge to pull away in order to adjust it. He knows it’s too big on him, and he doesn’t want to think about the way Mark’s eyes are wandering down his legs now as if he’s wondering what Kit would look like wearing only Mark’s shirt.

“Stop talking now,” Kit says firmly. “Just lean on me and walk slowly. The last thing you need is to fall again.”

Mark looks quietly amused, but he doesn’t say anything else while Kit walks him to his car.

Halfway to the hospital, it occurs to Kit that maybe he should’ve called for an ambulance instead, let paramedics handle the proper transportation method, but by then it’s far too late. He’s already made his choice. He glances quickly at Mark in the passenger seat. His eyes are squeezed shut, and Kit can see him fisting his hand in the edge of his shirt every time they go over a bump in the road.

Kit tries to slow down.

Back at the hospital, Kit is relieved to find a different doctor on duty. Mark gets seen almost immediately when Kit explains the situation, and, after a few questions, he’s wheeled away for another CT scan — of his head this time. At least he reaches for Kit’s hand to squeeze before he goes.

The doctor eyes Kit once Mark is out of the room. Kit stops himself from squirming under her steady gaze.

“Are you two…?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Kit says a bit defensively. He’s done not being upfront about things.

The doctor makes a noncommittal noise.

“Next time,” she says, “call emergency services first. It’s usually smarter not to move someone with a head injury.”

 Guilt floods through Kit. It’s like poison in his veins, heavy and dark.

“I know,” he says quietly. “I should have noticed and called last night.”

The doctor taps absently at her clipboard. “Don’t blame yourself,” she says. “Most people don’t know these things.”

“But I’m a pre-med student,” Kit says in a toneless voice. He stares at his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers together.

“Ah…” The doctor sounds a little amused. “So you feel you ought to have known better?”

“I do know better.” Kit almost snaps the words. “But we were all drinking last night and things got chaotic, and I just…”

“Listen,” she interrupts him. “If you’re going to be a doctor, there are some things you have to accept. You won’t always make the right call. Sure, school will teach you what should be the right call, but nothing can prepare you for how you’ll make those decisions under pressure. None of us gets it right all of the time.”

Kit frowns, and she smiles gently at him.

“No one expects you to act like a doctor before you actually graduate medical school. Especially if you’ve been drinking with your friends — which is a perfectly normal thing for you to do at your age, okay? Don’t take this one to heart, kid. Your boyfriend needs to take it easy for a while, but he’ll be just fine. Most concussions heal themselves with adequate rest.”

Kit looks at her, his stomach still tying itself in knots. “But what if—”

She shakes her head. “Don’t dwell on potentialities. Focus on what you can do, and do that. What you can do right now is be there for your boyfriend. He’s going to have a rough time for a little while, but you can help him through it. Okay?”

She comes over to Kit and rests her hand on his shoulder.

“I'm going to go look at the results of the scan now. Would you like to come with me?”

Kit folds his hands together and wais deeply. “Thank you, but I’ll wait for Mark and listen to the results with him.”

The doctor wais back. “I can tell how much you care about him,” she says, smiling again. “Wait here. I’ll send Mark back to you.”

A nurse brings Mark back to the exam room in short order and Kit stands up. Mark is already reaching for his hand again, and Kit is more than happy to intertwine their fingers.

“How are you feeling?” he asks once the nurse has left.

“Like someone took a sledgehammer to the back of my head,” Mark says matter-of-factly.

They stare at each other for a moment, both stunned by Mark’s sudden frankness, before they dissolve into helpless giggles.

“Ow,” Mark groans once he’s managed to stop laughing.

Kit rubs the back of his hand with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you hit your head,” Kit apologizes softly. “And I’m sorry I didn’t give the doctor more details last night. He might have noticed what I didn’t if I had.”

“I’m sorry I drank so much,” Marks says just as seriously. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner that something else was probably wrong.”

“Yeah. That was stupid.” Kit pokes Mark’s face.

Mark cracks a smile, but it shifts quickly into a frown.

“You shouldn’t apologize for not knowing I hit my head. How could you know? I didn’t even know.”

Kit chews on his lip. “I guess,” he allows, but he’s not going to concede the point any farther. Fair or not, he still feels guilt about not putting the pieces together sooner. He vows that he’ll do better next time. With Mark’s sometimes thoughtless shenanigans, there’s bound to be a next time.

The doctor returns a few minutes later, brandishing Mark’s CT scan and smiling.

“You’re in the clear,” she announces airily. She darts her eyes to Kit and her smile deepens. “Just a concussion.”

Kit actually wobbles a little in relief. Mark squeezing his hand is the only thing that prevents him from sinking right down to the floor.

“Okay, here’s what you do now,” the doctor tells Mark. “Rest as much as possible in the next few days. Keep screen time to a minimum if it makes your symptoms worse. No strenuous physical exertion for at least a week — probably two.” She glances meaningfully between them, and Kit’s face flames. “You can resume normal activity once your symptoms start to improve, but take it slow. And don’t drink any alcohol until you’re completely symptom-free — and try not to binge drink ever, okay, Mark? Don’t make Kit worry about you like this again.” Kit blushes even harder, and the doctor winks at him before fixing Mark with a serious stare. “Got all that?”

“Yes, thank you,” Mark replies, letting go of Kit’s hand so they can both wai their thanks.

“Good,” the doctor says. “Take it easy, Mark. We’ll see you in a few days to get that wrist put into a proper cast, right? Okay. Now go home and rest.”

Mark turns to Kit once the doctor is gone and raises his eyebrows.

“I know, I know,” Kit says. He rolls his eyes. “Don’t say anything. Let’s just go home.”

~

Back at Mark’s apartment, Kit gets Mark settled in bed and then promptly places an order for a massive amount of take out because it’s been nearly eighteen hours since either of them has had a proper meal.

“I like what you said back there,” Mark says suddenly while Kit is clearing space at Mark’s desk for the food.

“What did I say?” Kit asks absently. He’s just come across a picture of the two of them that Mark had framed. It’s from the photo shoot Mark insisted they do on their one-month anniversary. Most of the photos from that day came out terribly because Kit was distracted and never one to pose for photos to begin with. But this one is good; they’re looking at each other instead of at the camera. Mark is grinning brilliantly, his hands on Kit’s waist, and Kit is looking back up at him as though no one else is around.

Kit smooths his thumb over his own face in the picture. He’s not sure he’s ever seen that helpless smile from someone else’s perspective before.

“When you said we should go home,” Mark says, something careful in his tone that catches Kit’s interest.

He sets the picture frame back down and swivels toward Mark.

“What do you mean?” Kit asks.

Instead of answering, Mark stares at Kit with that look of utter devotion he sometimes gets. Kit is melting even before Mark holds out his hand. He offers his hand in reply and Mark immediately tugs him down to sit on the bed. 

Kit touches Mark’s face, and Mark leans his cheek into Kit’s palm. He’s still staring at Kit with a yearning that makes Kit’s blood feel like it’s caught fire.

“I was just thinking…” Mark says hesitantly. “In the future, when you say we should go home, wouldn’t it be nice if it was our home? Rather than having to choose whose apartment we’re staying at all the time?”

Kit freezes.

It’s not that Kit hasn’t thought about living with Mark. Phai even suggested it outright not too long ago, telling Kit that he should spend more time with the person he loves — and incidentally pass his apartment along to his little brother. Kit played it off, but he’s been mulling it over ever since.

What would it be like to sleep next to Mark every night? Wake up with him every morning? Have breakfast together and argue over whose turn it is to do the dishes; for them to share shampoo bottles and closet space…? They already have each other’s spare keys, true, but it’s not the same thing as sharing a lease.

Kit didn’t get this far when he wrote up his order of operations list for their relationship. Living together didn’t even cross his mind at the time, probably because Kit has always been fairly protective of his personal space… Right up until he started dating Mark. Actually, ever since the first time Kit took Mark back to his apartment, letting him crash in his bed to sleep off a hangover before they were even dating, Kit doesn’t seem to mind Mark invading his personal space. Sometimes he even misses it when Mark isn’t around to distract Kit with his relentless teasing or his surprisingly romantic caresses that so often turn into hotter, heavier touches. If they lived together, Kit could have that kind of distraction all the time, not just the few times a week Mark convinces Kit not to shut him out.

But it’s a big step. It’s a huge step actually. And Kit hasn’t had time to consider all of the consequences yet. Just because they love each other doesn’t mean everything will work out if they rush into something like this before they’re ready.

Mark turns his head so he can press a kiss into the center of Kit’s palm.

“Sorry,” he says, locking eyes with Kit. He’s wearing a faint smile, but Kit can feel the ache behind it, an ache that has nothing to do with his wrist or his head. “I didn’t mean to ask you like that,” Mark says. “You don’t have to answer. I won’t push you.”

Kit gazes down at the boy he’s fallen in love with despite all of his initial efforts not to. He’s pretty sure Mark is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’s also pretty sure that he doesn’t tell Mark how much he means to him nearly often enough.

“I want to,” Kit blurts out — and he’s not sure if he’s answering Mark’s question or his own thoughts. He takes a breath and tries again. “I don’t want to promise anything right now,” he says slowly. “But… Yes. It would be nice.”

Mark’s smile looks a little more genuinely happy now.

An idea occurs to Kit. He stares seriously at Mark, weighing his options before speaking. Mark seems to sense that Kit might say something important because he drops his hand onto Kit’s knee and squeezes him encouragingly.

“What if I…” Kit starts. He can feel himself frowning and he tries to smooth out his expression. He continues in a rush because if he doesn’t get through this quickly, he won’t suggest it at all. “What if I stayed here with you until you recover? It could be a trial run for living together.”

Mark raises his eyebrows, clearly shocked. Kit rushes to fill the silence.

“I mean, the doctor did say that you need to rest in order to heal properly, and I don’t trust you to do that on your own. You always rush into things, and you never put yourself first the way you should. If I’m here, I can keep an eye on you to make sure you get better and don’t do anything you’re not ready for. I don’t know how long I’d be here, maybe a week or two depending on how you’re doing. It probably won’t be that different from when you sleep over at my place, but…”

Kit stops because Mark is tugging insistently on Kit’s sleeve.

“What is it?” Kit asks, a bit peeved about being interrupted. He thought he was laying out his case quite nicely, and he wasn’t done.

Mark grins. “You’re freaking out again,” he points out. He tugs on Kit’s collar this time.

Kit follows Mark’s lead and bends forward so Mark can kiss him. After a long moment, Kit sits back, breathless and a little disheveled. Mark’s hand returns to his knee and squeezes again.

“Stay with me,” Mark says, eyes shining. “For as long as you want to.”

Always, Kit’s heart seems to reply, beating the word like a drum in his chest. He puts his hand over Mark’s.

“Okay,” he says simply. “I’ll stay.”