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When you wake up with a splitting headache and in the makeshift hospital of Jackson, you can’t remember what had happened.
You don’t remember what day it was, but based off the golden light pouring through the raggedy curtains, it was nearing sunset. Your body felt heavy, sluggish, and there’s a distant thumping behind your eyes. When you reach up to your temple to gingerly feel for any injuries, your arm feels ten times heavier, and with significant effort, you’re able to feel the rough texture of a bandage wrapped around your head.
You take in your surroundings—you’re alone, which you weren’t sure was a good or a bad thing. There was a cracked vase on the table next to the bed, filled with pretty sunflowers that brightened up the entire room as well as a piece of bread and lukewarm soup on a tray. There’s an empty chair pulled up to your side with an unfamiliar coat thrown over the back.
Your head feels heavy as well, like everything was passing in slow motion. You attempt to sit up but don’t make it very far when you wince at the sudden sharp pain in your ribs. When you pull the thin blanket back and lift your sweater up your body, your entire right side was bandaged up as well.
You hear a creak and when you lift your head from where you were poking at your bandages, you spot Maria peeking her head around the door. Her face lights up, causing you to wonder how long you were out for, and says “Oh good, you’re awake. Let me go get Jesse.”
Before you could ask why the hell would Jesse be here, she’s gone.
You frown to yourself, trying to lift yourself in a more comfortable sitting position, as your brain slowly tries to catch up. You try to recount the events that have landed you here in the hospital, but you can’t seem to remember anything that happened after dinner yesterday where you had nearly choked on your piece of chicken over a joke that Ellie had recited back at you.
There’s a gentle knock, the door creaks open, and then Jesse, quiet and dependable Jesse, walks in.
Your frown grows deeper, confused at the sight of a member from the council checking in on you, much less Jesse. You’ve never really spoken to each other besides at the food hall, sharing mutual friends and sitting at the same table sometimes, but you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t interested in spending more time with him.
Dark hair, pretty brown eyes, and a boyish smile that forms as soon as he meets your gaze. He has broad shoulders, large hands, and thick forearms that immediately draws your attention as he steps into the room.
He says your name, nearly exhales it in relief, and the sound of it coming from his mouth has something unfamiliar and warm settling in your chest.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, immediately rushing to sit at the empty chair at your bedside.
“Uhm, hi,” you stutter, blinking up at him. Has he always been this pretty?
“You were out for almost two days, we were getting worried,” Jesse mutters, mouth twisting in a grimace. “You hit your head pretty hard though, so I’m not surprised.”
And then he’s reaching out, his hand coming to lay over yours where it lays palm up on top of the blanket.
Jesse, the guy you’ve had a crush on for as long as you’ve been living in Jackson, is holding your hand. You should feel concerned, confused, maybe even a little panicked, but you don’t feel any of that. If anything, you feel a little giddy at how close in proximity he was. Also, he’s really easy on the eyes.
You must have been given something, because you continue blinking up at him, your mouth dropping open and feeling drier than normal, when you say “You’re really pretty.”
Jesse’s eyebrows shoot up, an incredulous smile gracing his pretty mouth while he huffs a laugh. He ducks his head, as if embarrassed, but his hand squeezes around yours. It’s nice, comforting, even if you don’t know what the hell is going on. Was there a secret matchmaking event that you missed out on? “Thanks babe.”
You frown, eyebrows furrowing because there’s no way you heard that right. “Babe?”
It’s Jesse’s turn to blink at you, but his hand doesn’t budge where he’s still covering yours, his thumb swiping back and forth against your knuckles. His large, warm hands. “Yeah? I’m not allowed to call my girlfriend babe?”
Despite having just woken up, your eyes were already drooping, breaths growing deeper. You let your eyes close briefly before snapping them open. When you meet Jesse’s gaze as best as you could, you mentally tell yourself to stop being sleepy so you can keep staring at him. “I’m your girlfriend? Since when?”
Jesse frowns, his hand tightening on yours before disentangling himself from you and leaning away. “Are you trying to make a joke right now?”
You hum noncommittally before flinging your arm out, because your arm is still really heavy, to take a hold of his hand to bring it to your lap. How dare he stop holding hands with you. You run your fingers along his, taking notes of the rough callouses and how easily his hand dwarfs yours. You’re a little giddy that he so easily lets you grab at him. “Depends. Do you like when your girlfriend makes jokes?”
He pauses and just stares at you with an unreadable expression on his face. At least he lets you continue to play with his fingers. Small victories.
“How much do you remember?”
“Can you get me a sandwich?”
A smile threatens to tug at Jesse’s mouth, but he doesn’t relent, instead continuing to wear that incredibly attractive neutral expression. “What?”
“Will you get your poor girlfriend a sandwich,” you ask. “Please?”
That smile finally breaks through, making him appear younger, more handsome. He chuckles and intertwines his fingers with yours. You glance down at your joined hands, smiling when you notice how nicely you fit together. “Yeah, I can get you a sandwich. I’ll be right back.”
He moves to get up, standing and causing the chair to scoot back and trying to remove his hand from yours, but you don’t budge. You tighten his hold on him, frowning and glancing up at him with a hurt look. “Where are you going?”
“To… go get you a sandwich?” he says cautiously, briefly glancing at the untouched piece of bread and soup by your bed.
He’s really cute when he’s confused. “You’re really cute when you’re confused.”
He heaves a sigh and brings his other hand to wrestle your hands away from his, ignoring the embarrassingly whiny noise you make. “How about I go talk to someone about getting you a sandwich and I can come sit with you while you wait?”
You perk up at the possibility of having the two things you desperately want the most in the world at the same time. You nod frantically, and then wince when your vision swims, your hand coming up to massage at your temple. Your head felt like it was full of bricks.
Jesse makes a noise, rushing forward to press a gentle hand to the back of your head. “Careful,” he mutters, voice low and sending something hot to the pit of your stomach.
Once your dizziness fades, you peer up at him. He’s staring at you, his hand still cradled around the back of your head, and your heart starts racing for a reason you didn’t quite understand. You don’t remember this side of Jesse-- handsome, sweet, pretty Jesse, but you could tell that he truly cares for you just from how he’s looking at you right now.
His free hand comes to brush a strand of hair behind your ear before tracing along a scratch on your cheekbone, an action so tender from someone who was essentially an acquaintance to you, but felt so oddly comforting.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispers. And then he walks out of the room, your eyes dragging over the way he filled out his jeans and the broad line of his shoulders, and you’re seriously wondering if he really was your boyfriend because there was no way you got to keep all of that.
Jesse returns a moment later, clicking the door gently shut behind him, and sporting a pretty tinge of pink at the tips of his ears.
As soon as he sits down, long legs tucked underneath your hospital bed, you immediately reach out for his hand again. He smiles, soft and warm, and gives you both of his hands so you could place them in your lap to slot your fingers through.
“Maria said they gave you some painkillers for your head, and they probably gave you too much because of how expired they were,” Jesse says. “So, you’re probably just having some side effects.”
You nod, not processing what he was saying at all. The action causes your head to swim again, and when you clutch at the side of your head, squeezing your eyes shut, as if that will calm the nausea you feel, Jesse scoots his chair closer with a worrying look on his face.
“You should probably get some more rest,” he mutters. He tugs up the frayed edge of the blanket from where it was pooled around your waist up to your chin and then tangles your fingers together on top.
“That’s a great idea,” you say, maneuvering yourself as best as you could to lay back on the bed. Drowsiness threatens your eyelids again, and you make a sorry attempt at fighting it just so you could keep staring at your new boyfriend. “Do you think my sandwich will be here when I wake up?”
He smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, baby. It’ll be here when you wake up.”
You smile sleepily. You like Jesse calling you baby.
“You gave me a pretty good scare out there,” Jesse says, his gaze averted. “You hit your head really hard.”
You frowned, sleepiness melting away from you. You didn’t like when people were upset, and seeing Jesse, who you can only remember as being a sturdy pillar for the community, looking like he was in pain was strangely making you feel upset. “I’m okay, I’m right here.”
“I know,” he whispers. “But you don’t remember what happened. Or me.”
You think you’re slowly starting to remember what happened, the memories swimming and materializing in your brain like dust. You had been out on patrol and got ambushed by a small group of raiders, one of which hit you in the back of the head with the butt of a rifle.
You think you’re also starting to remember Jesse, who might’ve been there on patrol with you, but specifically the very first time he kissed you after he walked you home after a night out at the Tipsy Bison. So, you tell him.
“I think I’m starting to remember.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he leans in closer, his elbows propped up on the bed. “Oh yeah? What do you remember?”
You hum. “I think it’ll help if you kiss me.”
He tosses his head back and laughs, loud and unbidden. “Alright, now I know you’re starting to remember.”
“One kiss and I’ll go to sleep, promise.”
“Not for too long otherwise I’m going to eat your sandwich,” he says, already leaning in, eyes having already fallen to your lips.
It’s a gentle press of lips, chaste, but the softness of his mouth was so familiar. Now that he was closer, the intoxicating smell of him, clean and piney, snaked its way through your senses. He smelled like comfort, soothing the underlying anxiety you felt as soon as you had woken up.
When he pulls away and you get a good look at him, staring at you with so much love It makes your chest ache, you’re tempted to ask if you could continue trying to jog your memory rather than resting.
But he pulls farther away, settling into the uncomfortable plastic chair as if he wasn’t planning on moving until you were discharged. He cocks an eyebrow at you, as if he can read your thoughts. “Get some rest.”
You huff, rolling your eyes before turning onto your side so you were facing away from him. You bring a hand to place underneath your chin, the sleeve of your sweater bunched up around your face. You smile when you smell pinewood.
“My sandwich better not be gone when I wake up.”
“We’ll see.”