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It seemed as though Sami had just closed his eyes when Finn began to stir in the recliner, sharply inhaling through his teeth and softly cursing. Wordlessly, Sami rolled out of bed and padded over towards him in the dark.
“Hey, I’m right here.” Sami reached a hand out, making contact with Finn’s left arm.
“Go back to bed.” Finn’s voice was so strained, weariness on the edge of every word, and again he swore.
“Do you need more meds?”
“They’re not doing anything, but sure.” It was bitter and desolate, and Sami knew that feeling all too well. He returned to the bedside and turned the lamp on, then grabbed the bottle of Tramadol and opened it.
“One or two doses?” Sami asked, looking over his shoulder.
“Christ, two.” Finn hissed.
“You want me to get you some water?” Two tablets were brought over and gingerly placed in Finn’s outstretched hand, which was promptly brought up to his mouth. “Guess not.”
“I’m a champion swallower, you know that.” Finn chuckled dryly at his own remark, and Sami rolled his eyes. "But really, go back to bed, love. I'll manage."
"I'm not tired," Sami lied, fighting back an inconveniently timed yawn.
"You're very tired. You're already missing Mexico because of me, I won't have you missing any rest as well."
"I'm not-" Sami yawned loudly, unable to hold off any longer. "They offered the time off to me and I took it. It was my decision."
"Because of me."
"Finn..." Sami trailed off and rubbed his eyes. "Please don't do this."
"Go back to bed." Finn yet again reiterated, and Sami begrudgingly obliged. Despite them being in the same room, it felt like they were a million miles apart, and sometimes Sami's valiant optimism wasn't enough to bridge that gap. Come Monday, it'd be back to what their routine was before Finn debuted, to empty beds and long distance phone calls and "I miss you". Sami turned the light off, and shuddered as he closed his eyes.
"Sami?" Finn croaked, and Sami's eyes shot open. According to the alarm clock, at least two hours had passed, so he must of at least gotten some sleep.
"Finn?" Sami sat up, making out the vague form of the recliner in the darkness. "Are you OK?"
"M'sorry."
"For what?"
"Everything. Getting hurt. Not being responsible enough to stop the match. Putting you through this." A loud sniff punctured the silence that had engulfed the room, and Sami shot himself out of bed like a cannon and was at Finn's side.
"No, no no no. Don't say that, you have nothing to be sorry about." Sami crouched at Finn's left side and took his hand into both of his own. "You didn't do anything wrong. How could you have known. It's fine, you're gonna get through this; we'll get through it together."
"This shouldn't be your concern, you've already gone through this once." Finn sounded shaky.
"I went through it with you by my side, and I owe you big for that. And don't even tell me that the, what, two weeks of recovery for your ankle made up for it." Sami leaned forward and kissed Finn's cheek, then lowered his face so that his forehead rested there. "I wish more than anything that I could hold you right now and chase away these bad thoughts that you're having and the bad thoughts that are yet to come. None of them are real, though, and I love you so much. Please remember that."
Finn sat there quietly, and Sami could feel something damp against the bridge of his nose. "Love you, too."
"It's going going be fine." With the back of his hand, Sami reached up and wiped away the tears that strayed from the corners on Finn's eyes.
"What if it's not?" The words were slurred, due to the side effects of the medication, and Sami was thankful that they seemed to be working.
"Well if it's not, whatever on earth THAT means, we'll still have one another. I'm not going anywhere."
"You're not tethered to me."
"I'm not, but I choose to be here. I'm gonna keep on choosing that option as long as it's offered to me." Sami felt the grip on his hand tighten, and he squeezed it back. "Is there something on your mind?"
Another moment of silence passed before Finn laughed, the sound low and almost guttural. "Still too early to talk about."
"Oh." Sami sat there dazed as he mulled over the response. "Is it something that we said we'd wait a year before-"
"Yeah." Finn nodded against Sami's hand.
"Well..." Sami cleared his throat. "Y'know, I'll always take care of you. In sickness and in health."
"I'd say that I'd have and hold you, but I've got this bad arm."
"I'll do all that for the both of us as soon as the therapist says it's OK."
"How many more months?"
"Didn't the doctors say between four and six months?"
"No, until it's been a year."
"Uh, three. Ish." Sami nervously laughed.
"Hm." Finn exhaled. "That's just around the corner. We should do something good for that."
"We should." Sami agreed.
"Something really good to celebrate the first of many..." Finn trailed off, his head bobbing as his breathing got heavier, and Sami planted another kiss before he stood up and once more returned to the bed. In three months, it would be not only their one year anniversary, but also the one year anniversary of when Sami returned to the ring. In three months, Finn would be closer to a full recovery, and around three months after that he'd be ready to return, re-debuting and reclaiming his title. The ocean sized gap that once seemed to occupy the space between them in the bedroom suddenly seemed no larger or stronger than a small brook that trickled along, something simple and manageable that caused no threat, no real separation. Sami crawled under the covers, his heart swollen like a tide, but not from anxiety; rather, from hope and love.