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“You’re going to be okay.”
Time and time again, Harvey had told that boy.
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
Time and time again, from the moment he met him. Harvey had comforted that boy with his words, his promises.
When that frightened young boy, barely a preteen, had come into the hospital with a body battered from neglect, suffering a terminal illness, Harvey was there.
Harvey was the only one there. With family either incarcerated or unwilling to care, and with his colleagues too preoccupied by getting patients in and out the doors; Nurse Harvey was the only one there.
He would’ve done anything for that poor, sickly kid. That funny, bright spirit. Always trying to smile despite his unbearable circumstances, always trying to spread a cheer that was snuffed out just as quick in the unfeeling and impersonal medical setting.
Harvey had always been the only one to laugh, the only one to joke with him, the only one to sit with him for hours, to comfort him when his cheerful facade and the fear of being terminally ill and truly alone in his short life set in.
He had gotten so attached. He would’ve done anything for that boy. Would’ve adopted him. Would’ve been a feel-good story in an article about exceptional doctors one day.
That was the biggest mistake he’d ever made.
And his punishment was to lie beside a man he didn’t deserve to have, close his eyes, and relive the night he realized his mistakes all at once.
The sounds of the patient monitor blaring its traumatizing baritone were still in Harvey’s ears as his eyes flew open.
His face was tucked against another man’s warm, hairy bare chest, but he threw his face back like he was lying against molten char.
The sudden jerk caused the family cat to stand up abruptly from his spot nestled between Harvey’s shaking legs with a disgruntled huff, jumping off the bed and padding away to find somewhere else to sleep, the jingling of his bell collar the only sound between Harvey’s tiny gasps for air.
His husband was as heavy of a sleeper as ever, and as much as Harvey hated his own weakness, he needed him right now. He needed him.
His hand was shaking as he raked it desperately through the thick auburn locks of the man snoring noisily beside him. His stroking was so desperate that his fingernails dug into his husband’s scalp unintentionally.
The ensuing tugging caused the other man to stir, and Harvey could catch the dull glint of his eyes in the darkness of their bedroom as they opened.
“Hgh… what is it…?”
“Franklyn,” Harvey truly hated how helpless he was to stop his voice instantly strangling in his throat, the hot tears burning his eyes.
“Franklyn—“ All he could think to do was apologize. The one he should apologize to was dead, and so his husband would have to do.
“I’m—sorry, I-I—“
“Whoa—whoa.” The firm edge to Franklyn’s rough voice was enough to ground Harvey almost immediately. His sobs froze in his chest, but his body continued to rattle unsteadily.
On high alert now, Franklyn clumsily shoved himself up into a sitting position and fumbled for the lamp on his bedside table.
The farmer’s amber eyes instantly focused on the new dim light and saw the way Harvey’s eyes had melted into a watery ocean of tears.
“Baby, wha’s going on?” Franklyn’s voice was still a little breathy with sleep, but his huge arms curled around Harvey all the same.
Feeling the firmness of his husband’s forearm muscle pressed into the small of his back as he was tucked into Franklyn’s embrace was exactly what Harvey had needed without realizing it.
He melted into the other man, leaning as much into that firm warm cocoon as he could, wishing he could freeze time so they could remain in this spot for eternity.
He felt his husband’s chin drag across the top of his head. He held it there, his big hands rubbing firmly up and down Harvey’s skinnier back.
Harvey’s panic was so visceral that his tears had frozen to his lower eyelids, and instead his back was heaving into Franklyn’s nightshirt like he had just run a mile.
His face angled upward, nose clumsily pressing into the crook of the farmer’s broad neck as he kept breathing rapidly and huskily.
Franklyn didn’t need to ask what happened. He was the only soul in the valley intimately aware of Harvey’s deepest wound, and he hated himself for making his husband bear that weakness most of all.
“Bad night, huh?” Franklyn’s voice was a low, comforting rumble, like the purr of a lion.
“Might be the cold front. It screws with my dreams too. Sorry for givin’ ya the farmer’s curse.”
Harvey had every curve of Franklyn’s features so intimately memorized that he could feel his husband’s gentle smile against his hair.
He couldn’t help but give him a broken smile back, even with his mouth still pressed against Franklyn’s neck.
The two men stayed like that for a few moments before Franklyn spoke again, nuzzling down on Harvey’s head until their foreheads brushed together.
“Wanna talk ‘bout it? Or was it jus’… same old?”
“Same old…” Harvey’s breathy voice was slightly muffled against his husband’s neck.
Hesitantly, he pulled his face away at last and gave a shaky exhale.
“It’s… always the same lately.” He took a moment to gather his words before continuing.
“The memory is so… vivid. It’s like my brain just has…” He shook his head, his eyes screwing shut.
“…No room for interpretation anymore.”
Franklyn listened, as he always did, with a concerned frown and a slow nod.
“I’m so sorry, hon. I wish I could fix it.”
Harvey didn’t respond to that, only giving his head a small shake and craning his neck forward to nuzzle their cheeks together.
You silly old man. He shut his eyes, breathing him in lovingly. You’ve already fixed enough of me.
They remained in another soothing silence before Franklyn spoke up again, stifling a yawn as he did so.
“Wanna try goin’ back to sleep?”
Harvey felt a pang of guilt. Winter was fast approaching, which meant Franklyn’s workload to prep the farm had spiked. He needed as many hours of rest as he could get.
“You should.” Harvey pulled back and forced a weary smile. “I think I might dust off the Kindle… I know you don’t like the reading light, so I won’t—”
Franklyn chortled softly at that before beginning to settle back down under the comforter. “Naw, you use it. I’ll live.”
Harvey’s smile was fragile but genuine as he turned to rifle through his bedside drawer.
Once he had his Kindle and the attached nightlight, he crawled back into the bed but stayed sitting up, Franklyn’s much larger body snuggling up against his side.
Feeling needier than usual, Harvey’s arm reached out to coax his husband’s huge head into his lap. Franklyn obliged with a drawn-out yawn, nestling his face on the soft crook of Harvey’s thigh.
Keeping one hand holding the electronic reader, he used his other to stroke his fingers through Franklyn’s hair, much slower and softer than the frantic way he had done it before.
“Hey…” Franklyn mumbled, head lolling a bit as he melted under Harvey’s fingers massaging his scalp. “…how’d you turn this on me? I was ‘sposed to be calming you…”
Harvey didn’t turn his gaze from the Kindle screen, but a bitter smile tugged at his lips.
His biggest regret in life was letting himself become so emotionally immersed in the role of a caretaker.
And his punishment, he assumed, was that it was also what felt the most natural.