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Donald Trump stood outside of the hospital, steeling himself for the sights he would find inside. As he entered the revolving doors, he was struck with the sterile smell of rubbing alcohol and Kleenex. Making his way to the check-in desk, Donald caught sight of the Secret Service stealthily placed around the room. He knew a few of them personally. He rang the bell on the kiosk, patiently waiting until a harried-looking woman came out of the back room. Her name tag gave her name as Darlene.
"Hello, sir. How may I help you?" Darlene asked.
"I'm here to visit Joseph Biden," Trump said in a low voice.
"Your name?"
"Donald Trump," he answered. The receptionist's eyes widened slightly.
"Up the hall and to your left, first room on your right," she told him.
Donald thanked her and carried on his way. Upon arriving at the room, Trump knocked politely. A nurse opened the door, revealing Biden's family gathered around his bed.
"I'm sorry," she said unsympathetically. "Only three visitors at a time."
Donald could see clearly that there were at least four people in the room, but given that they were all directly related to Biden, he let it slide. Joe's mother turned around to see who was at the door.
"Oh, Donnie," she exclaimed. "We'll leave you to visit. We know how special you are to him."
Backstage before the first debate. Biden had approached him. Donald had not paid much attention to him before, but now that Joe was right in front of him, he noticed just how blue his eyes were, how he held a lightness in his step, a twinkle in his eye. "Good luck," Biden had said, and Trump's heart started beating faster. Fast forward a few debates and Donald was pinning Joe to a wall, sharing their first, albeit passionate, kiss.
Trump stepped into the room and was immediately taken aback by the sight of his love hooked up to many machines. "Is he okay?" Donald asked the nurse.
"He's in a coma from traumatic head injuries," she answered. "But he is expected to wake up soon."
Trump gasped, unbelieving that his strong, loving, and, dare he say, sexy boyfriend, was in a coma. Stepping up to the bed, he stood over Biden's pale frame. He had heard about the car accident, but not that it was this bad. He gagged, his stomach threatening to empty his lunch onto his favourite person. He ran out of the room in tears.
The next day, he came back. Joe wasn't awake. The same as the next time. And the next. And the next after that. The receptionist, Darlene, grew to know him after a few weeks, comforting him as she delivered the news yet again.
Finally, after three weeks, she had a different answer. "He woke up two hours ago," she said, grinning from ear to ear.
Donald sprinted to the room, where upon entering and throwing himself Joe's arms he whispered, "I missed you so much, baby. How are you feeling?"
To his horror, Biden looked at him in confusion. "Who are you?"
Donald's worst fears had come true. His one true love had forgotten him. He half expected Joe to break into a smile and tell him that Trump had been pranked. That never came.
Biden asked again. "Who are you?"
Donald felt like crying. "I-I'm Donald Trump. I'm your boyfriend."
"I don't have a boyfriend," Joe said, perplexed that this orange carrot man was in his room claiming to love him.
That was the moment Donald's heart broke in two.
Biden was on top of him, pushing him deeper and deeper into the bed, murmuring in between kisses how much he loved Trump, how he wished he could divorce his wife with no consequences, and several more dirty things that had made Trump hard as a rock. But they had waited until after the election. It was better that way, they agreed. Celebratory sex. Congratulatory sex. Trump couldn't wait. At this point, he didn't care who won.
"You really don't remember me?" Donald asked.
Joe shook his head. Donald sighed. "Do you want to get to know me?" he asked hopefully.
Joe shook his head once again. "You kinda look like a creep,"
This time, Donald's tears actually fell. Walking out of the hospital, he stopped to tell Darlene the news. She gave him a hug and a Hershey Kiss from the basket on her desk.
At home, Donald rotted in bed for two weeks, brokenhearted.
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Joe was confused. The last thing he remembered, he was driving home. From where he could not tell. And then he had woken up in a bed in the hospital. You got in a car crash, they told him. And then there was a big orange guy, a big cuddly orange guy who claimed to be Joe's boyfriend. Joe supposed he was attractive, but he was a little weird. His family had asked about him and had also seemed sad when he didn't remember. They showed him pictures and videos of their debates, a card Joe had written Trump, and even brought in one of Donald's hoodies. None of it worked, and Joe couldn't help but feel for the old man who had fallen for him. He just couldn't fathom ever having those feelings.
But then, one day, he heard strains of a song coming from another patient's room. The song seemed eerily familiar, even though Joe couldn't place it. He listened to the lyrics, still trying to remember where he had heard it before.
I threw a wish in the well
Don't ask me, I'll never tell
I looked to you as it fell
And now you're in my way
I trade my soul for a wish
Pennies and dimes for a kiss
I wasn't lookin' for this
But now you're in my way
Joe called the nurse and asked her what the song was.
"It's Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen," she answered kindly. Joe deflated, not knowing what that was.
Your stare was holdin'
Ripped jeans, skin was showin'
Hot night, wind was blowin'
Where you think you're goin', baby?
The chorus was on the tip of Joe's tounge. He screamed in frustration.
Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy
But here's my number, so call me maybe
It's hard to look right at you, baby
But here's my number, so call me maybe
Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy
But here's my number, so call me maybe
And all the other boys try to chase me
But here's my number, so call me maybe
And like a bullet, memories came flooding back to Joe.
Donald on top of him, pushing his dick further and further into him after the election results. "Good job, baby," he had said, moaning all the while... Watching Legally Blonde on the sofa, sharing popcorn and ice cream... Clapping on inauguration day, crying at the beautiful poem the woman had read... Kissing him as they woke up, Donald in his arms... dancing to this song late at night...
"NURSE!" Joe yelled. "GET DONALD!"
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Donald woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. The caller ID read Darlene. He didn't catch it in time, but she left a voicemail. Listening to it, he screamed with excitement. He threw on his robe and booked it to the car, crushing the speed limit on the way. He tore through to Joe's room, where Joe was waiting with open arms. Biden pressed his lips against Trump's, savouring the memories that came with it.
"I love you, Donald,"
"I love you too, Joeseph."