Chapter Text
That day. I remember too much about it.
The sunrise had been a vibrant vermillion color. The color of his hair. The color of my face the first time I talked to him.
I knew he wasn’t well. I knew something was wrong. He kept insisting he was fine, and I knew if I fought him on it, I’d lose.
That night I had fallen asleep at the base after trying to read one too many police reports.
That morning I woke up to my phone ringing on the table next to my head.
“Matt?”
“I...” long pause, “love…” rasps and gasps, “you…” and then the sound of him dropping the phone.
That moment I didn’t move. Or breathe. I ran. Even with the bike he created, designed to go way faster than street legal, it took too long to get back home.
“Matt?!” Frantic.
“Mail fucking Jeevas where are you?” Then I walked into the kitchen.
That moment, I broke. I grabbed the phone 9-1-1, and yelled at them to track me. I put his head in my lap and could feel my hands become sticky from the blood.
“Stay with me.”
I picked up the empty pill bottle. Vicodin. My painkillers from the burn. There had been easily over a hundred pills in that bottle and only twenty-five were strewn across the floor, leaving the other seventy-five in his system. If two was enough to knock me out, I didn’t even want to think about what seventy-five can do.
Then there were his arms, lying limp and stained red, looking as though they had been put through a wood chipper. His breathing was shallow and his heartbeat was hammering way too fast, and way too strong. It reminded me of the code we had has kids, one for no, two for yes, three for okay.
“Stay with me.” I let myself believe the next two heartbeats were telling me yes.
That day, his heart stopped three times.
That day, I almost lost him three times.
That night while he was still unconscious, I crawled up into the hospital bed and held him. I took his hand cold hand in mine and buried my face into his shoulder.
“Don’t leave me. I’m not a good man, and I don’t deserve you, but I love you, I love you so much. I realized that the day we were out climbing on the trees and your shoelace got stuck. You hung upside down for hours, insisting you could do it yourself. Do you remember that?
“Or the day you accidently drank the strawberry lube we found in L’s desk drawer? What about the first time you kissed me and I was so startled that I fell off our windowsill and landed on that old, yellow, slide? Or how ever since you found me hiding between the bed and the wall sobbing because of thunder, you haven’t let me sleep alone during a storm?
“I got so caught up in wanting to be first that I forgot the only thing I truly wanted; you. I love you Mail, and I swear I will never leave you again.”
Then, knowing he couldn’t hear me, I whispered, “Mail Jeevas, will you marry me?” My hand was squeezed, one…two… two means yes.
Matt. He’s awake.
(present)
I look up at him and see him smiling even though there are tears on his cheeks. I lightly brush them away with the back of my hand.
“Can you talk?” 1 squeeze. No
“Does it hurt?” 1 squeeze, then he looks away from me, ashamed, and squeezes my hand again. Yes
“Do you want me to get a nurse?” No
“I’ll have to at some point.” Okay
“You didn’t hear my speech, right?” He smiles.
“So you did?” Yes
“Oh.” I hide behind my hair and curl into him more. He takes the hand that isn’t holding mine and brings it to my bicep, then he starts tracing with his finger.
“What are you-oh.” He’s tracing letters.
N-O-I-T-W-A-S-B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L
“You should get some sleep.” 1 aggressive squeeze.
“So I guess that’s out of the question.” I murmur to myself. 2 squeezes.
“I love you.” He takes his hand and moves it to my chest, grabbing my hand along the way. Our hands are on my chest, his over mine. Then he moves our hands to his chest- no, not his chest, his heart.
“Our hearts.” It was only a soft whisper. 2 squeezes.
His eyes start to flutter shut, but I can see him fighting it. I stroke his hair, cooing in his ear. I’m happy he’ll finally get some sleep, but I’m angry that it’s in this damned hospital bed.
I try to wiggle out of his grip so that he’ll have the whole bed to himself, but when I start to move, he holds me tighter. Even sleeping he was afraid I’d leave. What have I done? I’ve made him terrified every second, every minute that I’d leave him.
“I’ll never leave you.” Then I hold him tighter and let my eyes close.