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Bojan wakes up.
The first thing he notices is that his mouth feels like sandpaper and his head hurts.
Then he sees the room and realises he’s in a hospital. His left hand is in bandages.
The next thing he notices is that he can’t read.
They tell him that he got hit by a car while crossing the road. Joker Out were in the middle of their tour when it happened - that’s why it’s his bandmates who are there instead of his family. And that’s why he can’t read the signs. They are in Lithuanian.
When he sees Jere entering the room, he smiles.
“Jere! Why are you here?” he asks. Jure and Jan share a puzzled look. Jere stares at him with his big bambi eyes. Bojan feels a bit dizzy.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” Bojan says. “I think I’m a bit confused.”
Jere flinches a little and buries his hands deeper in the pockets of his hoodie.
Very soon it also turns out that Bojan can’t remember which tour they are on, or when.
“Give him a few days,” the doctor says with his tilted accent. “It’s all a jumble in his head right now. Let the memories come back on their own, at first.”
So they decide to take it easy, and not try to catch him up on everything that’s happened right away.
“It’s okay,” Bojan says. “My hand should heal just fine, I’m pretty sure I can play soon? And it’s not like I forgot all you guys,” he says, smiling a little, surrounded by his band and Jere.
There are more worried looks shared between them.
Bojan furrows his brow. “Or did I? Are there actually more of you?”
Kris sits down on the edge of his bed.
“No, of course not. It’s just us. And… you remember Jere, too, right?”
Bojan swallows and tries to keep his voice chipper, even though it’s about to crack.
“Of course!” He reaches to take Jere’s hand, bare of all decorations and polish for a change. “Thank you for being here. You’re such a good friend.”
He smiles brightly at Jere, making it convincing. His insides are burning.
Just seeing Jere here, when he feels like he hasn’t seen him in forever, ties his stomach in knots. He’s missed him so much. He’s aching to touch him.
These feelings are nothing new, he remembers them all too well. Suppressing them should be second nature by now.
Jere is looking at him and suddenly Bojan notices that tears are welling in his eyes. Way to go, Bojan thinks. His friend is worried about him and again he is making it all about himself and his pining. Bojan pulls Jere closer and he comes easily, lets himself be pressed to Bojan’s side.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Bojan says, hugging Jere close to his chest. “I’m okay, I’m here, it’s okay. I’m sorry I scared everyone.”
Jere sniffles against his shoulder and Bojan holds him tighter. He’s been told he was out of it for only a day, but they weren’t sure what was wrong, since his wrist is only strained and no bones were broken, and there was no internal bleeding. Only his head seemed to have taken a hit.
No wonder they're all worried sick, Bojan thinks.
Jere lifts his head to look at him. Bojan tries to smile, reassure Jere that he’s here and alive and almost well, that there is nothing to worry about. Their eyes lock together and suddenly it’s hard for Bojan to breathe. Jere is there, so close and nice-smelling and sad, and Bojan wants to–
Jere opens his lips slightly, and Bojan's so close to pulling him down to meet his mouth, he wants to so badly, he’s hungry for it–
But then the moment passes and Jere's pulling away.
Bojan is ashamed. He needs to get his feelings in check, and soon, before he does something colossally stupid.
Bojan stirs from his nap to some words coming from outside his room. Kris is arguing with someone whose voice is more mumbled.
“He deserves to know,” he says.
“And we’ll tell him! Soon.”
“Don’t you fling that word at me.” Kris is beyond annoyed, Bojan can tell.
“Hey. If he can manage, so can we. It’s not our place to say.”
There are some more hushed words, but Bojan can no longer hear what's said.
He dozes back off to sleep.
Bojan dreams. It’s vague and foggy and everything is spinning, and there is nothing much to grab on to, just the sun warm on his face and a sense of dread in his throat. But Jere's there, and Bojan isn’t afraid. How could he, when Jere is there to tell him everything will be alright.
When he comes to, Jere is once again in the room. He’s standing by the window, looking out.
“Hi,” Bojan says. Jere turns.
“Hi. How you feel?”
“O–” Bojan swallows. “Okay.” His throat is dry. Jere steps closer and hands him his water bottle from the bedside table. Bojan takes a swig. He notices Jere looking at his bandaged hand, eyes full of sadness again.
Bojan is still thinking about his dream. It has to mean something, hasn’t it? Maybe it’s… something that actually happened.
“Did we…” he asks, hesitating.
Jere looks up, eyes wild and.. Hopeful?
“Did we go on a vacation together? Somewhere warm?” Bojan asks.
Jere’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Yeah. Thailand. You remember?”
Bojan shakes his head. “I don’t know. I don’t– not really.”
And Jere’s eyes are down again. He looks defeated.
“I’m sorry,” Bojan says, tears forming. He wants to remember, he really does, but it’s escaping him, he can’t hold on to it, it slips through the crevices of his mind like sand between fingers. He knows there’s something important, something vital. A tear slips down his cheek.
“Hey, now, don’t. It’s okay,” Jere says, wiping Bojan’s tear with his thumb. “Everythings going to be okay, I promise, it’s–”
But Bojan's crying now. He can’t help it. Jere is so gentle, so careful with him, and Bojan can’t take it.
Bojan doesn’t know much, but of some things he’s certain. And right now, he doesn’t care if it’s stupid, if it’s not the right time, if it’s not welcomed. He can’t let Jere sit there and comfort him, not when he doesn’t know the truth. Bojan can’t let him be his friend like this, when all he wants is–
“I have to tell you something,” he says. He wipes his tears on the sleeve of his hospital gown.
“Okay,” Jere says, frowning a little.
“I realise I probably should've told you sooner,” Bojan starts. “I’ve been keeping this from you, and I feel awful about it. You’ve always been such a good friend. But it’s not fair. It’s not fair to you. And also, I almost died. Life is short. I think you deserve to know.”
Jere is quiet, so Bojan bulldozes on, quickly, before he can lose his nerve.
“I love you. I think I’ve loved you since… I don’t know, pretty much always. I know you’re not… I mean, that’s not what we… I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said. But I hate not telling you everything. I have no idea how I’ve kept this inside for so long. I was probably just afraid to lose you. I still am, please tell me if… Please tell me I haven’t ruined everything.”
Bojan looks at Jere, terrified, and Jere stares back for what to Bojan feels like weeks, even though it can’t be more than a few seconds.
Then he laughs, but there’s no humour in it.
“Bojan, you– You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Bojan’s eyes well up again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have, I know–”
“Please, shut up,” Jere says.
Bojan shuts up.
And Jere pulls something from his pocket.
It’s a ring.
“I’m sorry, Bojan,” Jere says, fiddling with the ring. “I keep a secret from you. Because you don’t remember, and I didn’t want you be upset, or horrified, or… I don’t know. I was scared. So scared that you regret, that if you not remember you would not want… Anyway. I take it off. I’m sorry. I should have known. I should have trusted you.”
Bojan is still confused. And then Jere gives him the ring.
“Look inside.”
Jere & Bojan, it says. And there’s a date, five months ago.
And suddenly Bojan remembers that day.
It was a crisp autumn Friday. They'd made an appointment at the registrar at 14:40 in the afternoon without telling anyone. Just the two of them, asking for the obligatory witnesses to be some employees of the office. A plain room with beige walls, some flowers on the table. The officiant smiling at them.
And then Thailand, spending the days in the sun, turning off their phones and sending postcards to their families, basking in the final few days before anyone knew.
“We.. we got married,” Bojan says.
“Yeah.”
“Where’s my ring?”
“They take it off when they bandage you. I have it.”
“I already said all that stuff to you.” That was in the autumn as well, Bojan remembers. Only it was the year before. He was about to leave, go back home, but then couldn’t. He'd told Jere he never wanted to leave.
Jere had let him stay.
“Not exactly same words but.. yeah. You did.”
“And it was just the two of us.” Neither of them wanted a big party. No fuss, just us, they'd said.
Jere smiles.
“Yeah. Although your mom make us promise to celebrate prop– properly next summer.”
Bojan makes a face. Jere laughs, and this time it’s genuine.
“I don’t want to,” Bojan says. “Let’s run away again.”
“Just us?”
“Just us.”
“Deal.”