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He can see the end coming for him, very soon. The manoeuvrability is almost entirely gone, but Tommy’s painfully aware of all the people on the ground, so he banks sharply right and prays that he makes it into the water. There’s something on fire, and he’s rapidly losing altitude, and all Tommy can focus on now is ensuring that no one but him gets hurt. Between one blink and the next, he’s putting his wounded helicopter in a pond, everything lurching on impact. The black surface of water comes, and then everything’s gone.
Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not going to wake up again, so taking a sharp breath of fresh air comes as a surprise.
He coughs, everything aching but in a distant sort of way, and turns to the side, trying to catch his breath. When he opens his eyes, everything’s bright, and it takes him a second to realise he’s lying on an overgrown lawn, sticks digging into his side. Tommy groans and sits up with difficulty, taking a look around and down at himself. He’s still in his flight suit, but it’s not torn or bloodied, so he knows he’s not out of that wreck. Or actually…
There’s no pond. No forest around him. No burning, wrecked helicopter.
Tommy’s lying on someone’s lawn in what seems like a pleasant suburb, sun shining down at him. The house’s a bit run down, but clearly under renovations, and there’s music coming from the inside. A perfect little world, probably conjured up by Tommy’s oxygen-starved brain as he drowns inside his own helicopter. He always assumed he’d die on the job, but somehow it still comes as a surprise.
“Well, may as well use the moment,” he tells himself, and hoists himself up. It’s clearly some strange fantasy, one last hurrah from his dying brain, and Tommy’s always been an opportunist.
There are a few people milling around, but no one catches his attention, at least until his gaze shifts to the driveway and promptly does a double take. It’s Evan’s jeep, looking exactly like the last time Tommy saw it, on the same day he ruined the best relationship of his life. It’s not exactly a surprise that his mind is reminding him of the man, but it does hurt.
Even in death he can’t escape his consciousness.
Tommy shakes his head and decides to explore. He looks inside the jeep, immediately noticing a familiar hoodie and sunglasses - he used to leave them at Evan’s car all the time, and it was a shot to the heart when he found those things in a neat box on his porch. A deserved one, but still.
He smoothly moves on, trying not to focus too much on why his brain is so insistent about bringing up Evan. He fucked up that relationship all by himself, but Tommy knows it was for the better. They can both move on and Tommy won’t be left behind, heart irreparably broken by a man he never deserved. It’s for the best.
The door is open so he nudges it further and steps into the house. It’s his dying hallucination, he can do whatever he wants.
The house is clearly in the middle stages of renovations. The wooden floors (which look original, as the house’s probably from the early 20th century) are refreshed and covered in plastic to keep them protected. Original door frames and doors are repaired as well, and the walls are covered in a fresh layer of white paint. The house is large, one floor with spacious rooms and gorgeous sunlight let in from the big windows. The windows are new, but already being fixed to work with the house.
So much love and care is being put into this, and Tommy aches because it’s always been his dream to renovate an old house, all by himself. He never got around to buying one, for some reason, even though he had the money, and the dream slowly faded away, replaced by the reality of renting and not caring quite enough.
In his hallucination, however, everything’s possible.
“Evan, don’t you dare-” comes a familiar voice from somewhere in the house, and Tommy pauses, heartbeat picking up. “Baby, no!”
Loud footsteps sound in the house, and from a room in the back comes tearing out another Tommy. He stares, jaw slack in shock, as another version of himself runs from the room, laughing the whole time. The moment becomes even more surreal when Evan rushes out after him, a brush in his hand, dripping with baby blue paint, clearly chasing after his Tommy.
The Tommy who’s surely dying, just stands there, eyes wide, shock pushing everything else away as another version of himself gets pushed against the wall by Evan, and kissed breathless, the brush falling to the ground with a clatter. It hurts watching them melt into each other, old clothes covered in paint, their hair curly and splattered with paint too. They act so in love, lost in the moment, giggling between the kisses, and the ache is sharp enough that he winces.
Suddenly, he’s very clearly reminded that he let that future go. Even more, he stomped on any possibility of such a situation, repeatedly telling Evan to stop asking, to let them go. Remembering hurts, because even though Tommy’s still standing by his decisions, he can’t deny the heartbreak is not fading away, nor is the memory of Evan’s broken eyes, sadness on his face the last time they spoke, when Tommy told him there was nothing to fix. The words were a lie then, and are still a lie now, but it was a safe lie. Lie that kept them both from heartbreak, kept Tommy from being left with nothing again, this time ruined beyond repair.
He had known early on that Evan was different, that what he felt for that man was more encompassing than what he had felt for his previous boyfriends. He had known then, and when Evan started talking about the future, asked Tommy to move in, he panicked and ended it before it could get worse. He’s not strong or brave like Evan thinks - in the end, Tommy’s a coward with a porcelain heart, and he had to protect himself.
The pain hasn’t started to fade, and any possibility of it is gone as Tommy watches other versions of them make out against a wall of a house they’re very clearly renovating together.
“I’m still not agreeing to a dog, Evan,” Tom (because Tommy hates ‘Thomas’ but he has to refer to another version of himself in some way) murmurs between kisses.
Evan laughs, using the distraction to start pressing kisses to Tom’s neck, and Tommy’s whole body tingles at the mere memory.
“Hmm, okay, but a cat would fit this house well,” he says, that familiar tone in his voice. Tommy already knows Tom will cave. “We can adopt.”
“Talking about adopting already, kid? That’s quick, even for us,” Tom jokes. Evan from his vantage point, Tommy can see that his eyes are laughing, that his body language is relaxed.
“Of course not,” Evan replies with a smirk. “The house isn’t ready for kids yet.”
The sharp pain in his chest almost makes Tommy sit down on the spot, and his hands are trembling, watching the two men joke around about adopting, speaking as if it’s real, as if they both know it’s inevitable. This is everything he’s been so afraid of wanting, and it’s happening in front of his eyes.
Another version of himself, with Evan in his arms, the two of them swaying in place in a house they’re renovating together, talking about pets and kids. It’s so huge and so real, and yet his brain came up with a Tommy who’s not afraid, who’s welcoming it with open arms.
“Sometimes I still can’t believe it,” Evan whispers suddenly, and the tone shifts, becoming gentle. It makes sense for his battered brain to change everything so swiftly, since Tommy’s dying on the bottom of some pond. At least he gets to see this. “That you want it too.”
“Evan, this is literally all I’ve ever wanted and never said,” Tom says. “I might’ve been scared shirtless and almost fucked everything up, but we’re here now. Building this life together.”
Evan’s smile could power a whole country for a year, and Tommy grows weak in the knees at the sight of it. He remembers it being directed at him, before everything went to hell and Evan’s eyes were only ever hurt when the man looked at him. He remembers how they filled with tears that last time, when Tommy made it clear that they can’t get back together. He made the decision that’ll keep them safe, but it’s hard not to regret it when looking at a hallucination of what could’ve been.
It’s hard not to regret when the thought keeps him up at night, when every second of his day is filled with thinking about Evan and the huge fuckup Tommy did.
“Come on, we have to finish that one room to stay on schedule,” Evan says, tugging Tom after him. “And Maddie asked us to come over with ice cream.”
“Ouch, how’s she feeling?”
“Very ready not to be pregnant,” Evan replies with a laugh. Tommy jolts in place. “She says she managed to forget how bad it was with Jee, so she’s not very happy.”
“Only one month left. She’s a fighter.”
The conversation trails off as they walk back into the room they’re working on. Meanwhile, Tommy’s left standing in the same place, mind swirling with possibilities. Maddie’s pregnant. In here, Maddie’s still pregnant, and it’s been 8 months since Tommy broke up with Evan. Or, in case of this hallucination, 8 months since they decided to move in together.
Tommy broke up with Evan over being offered to move in together. This Tommy went all in and they’re here, 8 months later, renovating a house they probably bought together.
It’s unfair for his brain to do it to him. It’s unfair, because he’s dying and it hurts, and he misses Evan so much it’s a physical ache. It’s unfair, because Tommy’s filled with regrets and what-could-have-beens, and it took him dying for him to admit to the fact that he regrets breaking up with Evan.
He slides to his knees as his battered body finally catches up with his mind, the hallucination dissolving around him. The physical pain is there, but it fades in comparison to the weight of all the regrets, all the moments when he broke Evan’s heart trying to protect his own, made the man cry. Tommy wishes, in those few seconds before everything goes black, for a second chance. No matter what Evan will say, he just wants to tell him everything, tell him the truth.
That Tommy loves him, more than he’s ever loved anyone, and if allowed, he’ll spend the rest of their lives making up for the nightmare he had put them in.
Darkness comes.
“Tommy.”
He tries to burrow deeper into the soft warmth wrapped around him, a familiar scent immediately putting him at ease. Tommy hums something and lets himself drift in the wonderful fantasy of him and Evan being together, days filled with sunlight, giggling, and paint. It’s better than the ache he can already feel in his chest - though it’s much more physical this time, less like his heart and more like his ribs.
“Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes for me,” Evan coos, sounding so close. Tommy twitches his eyelids. They feel so heavy, but he wants to follow Evan’s voice, wants to make him happy. He spent enough time making him miserable. “There we go, just fight it, Tommy. Give me those gorgeous eyes.”
Finally, he wrenches his eyes open, and it feels like a huge feat, but the effort is worth it when his gaze meets Evan’s. Even blurred, Evan looks like a mess - stubble on his jaw, curls messy, under eyes dark, clothes wrinkled.
He’s the most beautiful man Tommy’s ever seen.
“Hi,” Evan says with a small smile, tears filling his eyes. That should be illegal.
“Don’t cry,” he manages to croak out, his throat feeling like it’s on fire. “Baby.”
More tears run down Evan’s face, but he’s smiling so Tommy figures it’s okay.
“Shh, just open your mouth, Tommy.” He obeys without a thought, humming at the burst of cold on his tongue. Ice chips. Evan feeds them to him until his throat feels better and his brain feels less like it’s filled with cotton. “Good, you’re doing great, sweetheart. Take it easy.”
“What- You look bad.”
Evan bursts out laughing through the tears, and Tommy feels a smile form on his lips in response. The man’s joy is contagious, like pure sunshine, especially after the last few months. Last few months of suffering by Tommy’s own hand. He might be injured but he remembers that.
“Yeah, well, at least I changed into fresh clothes,” he says with a shrug.
“They’re fresh?”
“They’re not muddy and covered in your blood, so I’d consider them fresh, yeah.” Evan’s trying for nonchalant, but his voice trembles and Tommy aches to hug him. Then, the words register.
“My blood?” He feels stupid, constantly asking questions, but from what he can decide, Tommy’s in a hospital bed and he didn’t actually die in that helicopter crash.
Evan nods. He’s holding himself so stiffly, his shoulders drawn up to his ears, eyes trained on Tommy like he’s afraid to look away for a second, lest he disappears. It’s heartbreaking for entirely new reasons, and Tommy can’t even comfort him because he broke up with him. Multiple times.
“I, uh- We were on scene when you went down, close to the location of the crash. I got you out of the helicopter,” Evan admits reluctantly. “And helped to load you onto the new helicopter to be airlifted here.”
“He got your heartbeat back. Twice,” Eddie says, suddenly appearing in the doorway. He looks just as tired and messy as Evan, but he’s smiling at Tommy. “You flatlined on the shore, and then in the air, but Buck got you back. In the end, you got off pretty lightly. Internal bleeding was the biggest issue, but aside from that you’ve got 3 cracked ribs, twisted shoulder and ankle, a lot of bruises, and a good old concussion.”
Tommy tries to take it all in. Evan saved his life. Evan brought him back with his own hands, while covered in Tommy’s blood, heartbroken and angry. He never doubted the man’s kind, caring heart, but this is… Pretty fucking traumatic.
“How do you feel?” he asks Evan.
The man shrugs. “Oh, you know… Hanging in there,” Evan rasps. “But you’re the one in the hospital.”
“Yes, and you’re the one who had to bring me back. You’re probably traumatised, I’m so sorry.”
Evan shrugs again, looking entirely too bashful. “I’m in therapy, it’s fine. We’ll talk about it and all.”
“You’re in therapy? Since when?” Tommy asks instinctively.
That’s enough to make Evan’s eyes flash in anger. “Since the man I loved shattered my heart and stomped on it for good measure,” he snaps. “Turns out it fucks you up pretty badly, if you haven’t realised.”
“Oh.” Tommy really should’ve expected that - the anger that came after sadness and heartbreak, the fire that’s always burning in Evan. The hallucination was nice, an idyllic world that’s nowhere close to reality, but he has to live in here, with his own choices. “I’m sorry.”
Evan deflates suddenly, and grabs Tommy’s hand out of nowhere, shifting to sit closer to him. The touch is gentle and grounding, familiar calluses under his fingers. Their hands fit together so perfectly, and Tommy remembers gently kissing those palms, shivering as they traced shapes all over his back. Good memories.
“I didn’t mean to snap,” Evan says quietly. Eddie’s gone from the room again, probably to give them some privacy, and Tommy doesn’t know what to do. “I am angry, really fucking angry, but you died on me, Tommy. You died and we were broken up, and I couldn’t-”
“You’re still my emergency contact,” Tommy interrupts. “I couldn’t change it, because I knew- I fucked up, but I knew you’d still come if they called you. I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Evan replies. “But you’re the one who kept us away. I wanted to fight for us, Tommy, and you didn’t let me.”
“Because I was an idiot and a coward,” he says simply. At Evan’s shocked look, Tommy shrugs with his uninjured shoulder. “What, it’s the truth. An idiot because I let you go, and a coward because the fact that I love you didn’t stop me from pushing you away.”
Evan inhales sharply. “Tommy…”
“I love you, Evan,” Tommy repeats, gently gripping Evan’s hand, looking the man in the eyes. Even in the bright hospital lighting, he can see the traces of that dream Evan, happy and in love. It gives him hope. “I was an idiot and a coward, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life proving to you how sorry I am, if you’ll let me.”
The other man stares at him, tears suddenly welling up in his eyes, and Tommy’s about to start apologising again, when a blinding smile breaks out on his face. It’s the sweetest sight since they broke up, and he allows the tension to melt a bit from his shoulders.
“It doesn’t make everything okay,” Evan says.
“I know.”
“I’m still really angry and hurt.”
“I know.”
“And this better now have been a proposal, Kinard, because what the fuck-”
“Evan.” The other man falls silent immediately, eyes shining with happiness, leaning closer. “Shut up and kiss me?”
“With pleasure.”
The kiss is, objectively, pretty bad. Evan tastes of bitter coffee, his lips chapped, and the less said about Tommy the better, but it’s still the best kiss in his life. Tommy relaxes back against the bed, Evan following seamlessly, half-climbing onto the bed with him, each movement careful even as he cups Tommy’s face and deepens the kiss. They pull apart breathless and smiling, and the ache in his heart disappears.
There’s so much to talk about still - discuss the breakup, hash out all of their mistakes, apologise to each other again. So much work, and all of it done with Tommy’s heart in Evan’s hands, where it’s most vulnerable but also safest.
And he knows, even then, with the physical therapy stretching in front of him, that if he ever doubts, he’ll think of the Evan and Tommy who took the plunge and bought the house, who loved so fearlessly and were so stupidly happy. Their future.