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Seven months, two weeks, three days, five hours, twenty-two minutes.
That was how long Nakahara Chuuya had been dating his boyfriend, Albatross. Well, that wasn’t his real name, but the street name that the flower shop owner thought was ever-so endearing. After all, their quaint story began on a spring afternoon. The blond had been taken by Chuuya’s fiery hair at a red light, taking an embarrassingly-long time to make a U-turn and pull aside the floral storefront.
Straight out of some corny fairytale, the first time Chuuya had heard a golden laugh come out of Yamamoto Akitaka’s throat at a dumb joke he’d made, the two clicked right away. Their first date had been a motorcycle ride across the countryside to watch the stars without light pollution – it was the first time that Chuuya had felt safe with another person.
Despite the ‘warnings’ that Chuuya’s loving friends (mostly Dazai) attempted to pose about Albatross’s gang life and how his tattoos all had these ‘sinister meanings’... the redhead found himself smitten. Completely, unwaveringly head-over-heels for this ‘dangerous felon’.
Similarly, Albatross continued to pursue the pretty redhead who manned the small flower shop just outside of his gang’s turf. It was obvious from one look at the blond that, even beneath those sunglasses, he was very obviously whipped.
That terrifying, yet so coveted ‘L’ word had been readily exchanged by their fourth month together, and became a regular staple in their conversation within the week.
The one thing that they each came back to, without fail, was that gorgeous red Yamaha that was ‘tross’s baby . That was the running joke, that that damned bike was his own little child to nurture and care for.
“That’s my girl!”
…The words of Albatross’s pride for his favorite girl were easily drowned out by the fading in of the sirens and the hoarseness of Chuuya’s throat as the wreckage of Himeko . Her glossy red paint chipped and seared by the flames licking at what remained of it… and the gruesome sight of blood splatter, scattered about like petals across the freeway.
‘Where is he?’
The words do not leave Chuuya’s mouth as he whips around, desperately trying to dash out of the two first-responder’s arms.
“Sir, stay back and let the paramedics–”
“Is he alive?” Chuuya barks out hoarsely. The burn in his throat and the itch… it could only come from guttural screams that Chuuya had let out after speeding to the site of the accident after Albatross’s location services had noted that he was at a complete stop on a road with no such blockage. “Is he okay? Where–?”
The question stops as bile forms in the pit of Chuuya’s stomach: a glimpse of his lover’s condition from behind the curtain of paramedics doing chest compressions on the asphalt had taken the florist’s breath away. His gloves had holes from sliding against the hard concrete at inhuman speed after the collision. The pinkness of his burnt flesh down to the exposed muscle caused Chuuya to lock up.
One of the nearby officers reached out to the stiff man, noticing the color drain from his features.
“Sir–?”
The officer lunged forward just fast enough to catch a now-fainted Chuuya as he let out a faint, dying wail.
The ambience of humming machines and beeping vitals monitors causes a chill to run down Nakahara Chuuya’s spine.
Fifteen hours.
That was how long he’d been sitting by his ‘tross’s side. His bare hand balled into a frustrated fist as he watched Albatross’s chest rise and fall.
‘Please don’t stop again.’ He chanted in his head. Tears threaten to spill out from behind his eyelashes. ‘Please keep breathing.’
It’d been a blur between Albatross going between critical and a medically-induced coma. The memory of the sensation of latex against his goose bump-laden arms while the nurses held him back remained fresh – it burned, even.
Chuuya had watched it all: the quick cleaning and disinfecting process in the triage room, the harrowing moments of his lover being transported to intensive surgery to repair a burst lung, and each time they lost a pulse and brought him back.
The setting of his three broken ribs, the stitching up of his surgical sites, and the moment when he was placed under a medically-induced coma. Even during the neurological exam, Chuuya remained a stone’s-throw away at all times, unwilling to leave his side.
As it turned out, the helmet and pure dumb luck had saved Albatross’s life.
Chuuya had broken down, heaving disgusting, horrible sobs upon hearing the news.
Four days later, Albatross had finally awoken from the protective comatose state he was in and he greeted the nurse groggily, able to answer basic questions about how he felt and who he was… but when his hazel eyes flicked over Chuuya, not a speck of recognition entered them.
“Who’re you?”
Thump.
Chuuya grunts against his heart hammering against his ribcage. It was difficult to breathe – the air had been practically sucked from his lungs. The love of his life just asked him who he fucking was.
“It should only be temporary, mister Nakahara.” The nurse reassures him as she watches his fist tighten with uncertainty. “His neurological exam revealed that the trauma his brain underwent in the crash may have jostled his memory, but we have high hopes for a recovery.”
A recovery.
“A… full recovery? Or just…?”
Chuuya’s voice wavers, watching the quizzical stare Albatross gave him. The absence of his classic sunglasses was refreshing… yet jarring in this specific case.
The female nurse gave him a reassuring pat on his tensed forearm.
“Gaps in memory aren’t uncommon after severe head trauma, sir. We’re looking at a high prognosis of memory retention.”
Her honey-brown gaze is comforting in the moment and the florist falters, letting his arm relax, if only slightly.
Albatross gave him a silly, lopsided smile from his reclined position, shivering a little in his hospital gown nearby.
“Gotta be honest, you’re mad pretty.”
His hazel gaze never leaves Chuuya, who feels an ache in the pit of his chest at the compliment. That was his Albatross. Despite his precarious situation, he still found a way to laugh and be so unapologetically himself . His memories were in there somewhere , goddammit, and the redhead would be damned to hell and back if he wasn’t there when they came-to.
Chuuya began taking less time at the flower shop and closing early as Albatross’s treatment progressed. The care team seemed to be wanting to take it one day at a time with at least six months worth of tests and monitoring his activity.
Albatross himself did not seem to mind all of the extra attention despite the occasional bouts of moderate pain, flirting shamelessly with Chuuya at every opportunity.
The nurses advised the florist not to confuse his boyfriend with too much information at once and that the memories would come back to him eventually.
By the end of week one, the blond had been able to retain memories of himself, his life, and also the name of the pretty redhead who had been visiting him every afternoon.
“Come to see me again, gorgeous?”
It was the charming blond’s usual quip, and it absolutely broke Chuuya that he couldn’t fall into his lover’s arms just yet.
During week three, Albatross had begun to show positive signs of a recovering memory. He was able to confirm that he knew Chuuya and how they met, which was a massive step on top of taking it easy on his three broken ribs. Chuuya smiled and laughed with his boyfriend a little more by this point and he stayed later into visiting hours for a night or two, listening to the tattoo artist yammer on about funny jokes or motorcycle knowledge.
Truly, anything at all was enough for Chuuya: he clung onto anything Albatross said. It was potent in his memory: the blond could have very well died weeks ago, on the pavement surrounded by first responders. He is incredibly lucky to be alive, and Chuuya thanked any higher power that existed that he lived through it all.
By week six, Albatross had become ecstatic to see Chuuya every time he came to visit. It was quite adorable, really, to see such a tough guy suddenly mellow out as soon as the petit redhead walked into his immediate vicinity.
Today in particular, though, the blond waved his good arm at Chuuya and his voice softened a little as he took in Chuuya once again.
“Look, look! I gotta tell ya somethin’, Chuuya!” He declared in an animated fashion. “I finally got the guts to say it, okay?”
“Eh?”
Chuuya’s eyebrow cocked up a little as he nodded to the nurse who shuffled out of the room.
“What, did they tell you when they’re planning to discharge y–”
“I think I wanna marry you, Chuuya.” Albatross drops abruptly, his voice sounding dry with nervousness. “And it ain’t the pain medicine talkin’, I swear!”
Chuuya gapes at the suddenness of the statement, his head reeling. A silence falls over the dup as the redhead stammers a little, trying desperately to make sense of the situation at-hand.
“Y-you can’t just say stuff like that ‘tross!”
The florist covers his reddening cheeks a little with the back of his hand, averting his eyes. God, he was so fucking perfect, even in this situation. Chuuya was completely and utterly smitten.
“Well… I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’...” Albatross scratches his chin thoughtfully. “I know I don’t have a ring with me right now, but I was thinkin’ that we could, y’know, do that whole eloping thing you said you wanted–”
“Yeah, I–” Chuuya’s eyes go wide as he registers what Albatross had just said. “Wait, you… remember ?”
The lazy smile that crawls up the tattoo artist’s face has Chuuya nearly falling to his knees. Fuck him and his stupid little grin and his high cheekbones and his bright eyes and his–
“I told you, it wasn’t the pain medicine. You always told me that you liked it when I was spontaneous, so I figured that not telling you I started remembering stuff about us last week might make my proposal a little more fun.”
“Last fucking week… ” Chuuya can’t find it in himself to do more than grit his teeth as he scoffs, carefully wrapping his arms around a bed-bound Albatross who chuckled as he watched Chuuya bury his tearful face into his neck. “You’re lucky I love you, you little shit.”
Albatross chuckles softly and allows the moment to fester for a moment, with only the faint sounds of beeping from his vitals monitor and Chuuya’s soft sniffles filling the space. The moment is soft and sweet, with the florist kissing the exposed skin of the tattoo artist’s neck.
“If I’m being honest, I bought the ring after our first week of dating.” Albatross admits quietly, gently reaching his hand up and combing through Chuuya’s messy red locks. “It’s in my dresser, on the top shelf on the right side. Had a note attached to it and everything. It was the first thing I remembered… ‘sides you, of course.”
Chuuya sighed as he smiled into Albatross’s neck. He’s perfect. He’s so fucking perfect.
“Of course it was.”
“Soooo…?” Albatross dawdled hopefully with a smug little grin. “Are you going to say ‘yes’?”
“...Of course, ‘tross.” Chuuya mumbles softly into his neck, kissing the warm skin. He had a feeling he would be kissing this spot a lot more often over the duration of the rest of their lives. “I couldn’t imagine anything less.”
The ambiance of the hospital, with the occasional loud voice and footsteps settles over the newly-engaged couple before Albatross breaks their soft silence.
“D’ya think we could finally get matching tattoos now that we’re engaged ?” Albatross teases, knowing the answer that his fiancé will give. Chuuya hated the idea of couple tattoos. “Maybe some flowers, eh?”
Surprisingly, the redhead takes a brief moment to think before giving Albatross a smile that caused his vitals monitor to beep incessantly with an elevated heart rate:
“Anything for you.”