Work Text:
The first night isn’t so bad.
Probably, if Gary is being honest, only because he is already so accustomed to sleepless nights as it is. The added complications of an agitated bladder and gut certainly make it more frustrating, but he has no particular issue with getting out of bed in search of something more stimulating when the sleeplessness sinks its claws in. When he was still in university, all-nighters were like second nature to him.
Of course, it would be a lot more bearable if he were up simply out of want of being up, but it’s hardly the worst thing in the world to have a chance to catch up on some reading, or sending emails to the long list of people who keep chastising him for trying to get involved with remote research opportunities this past week or so when he should be, in their words, resting—but who also feel bad enough for him that they do sometimes send him datasets to give his opinions on or journals to review. Even if it is just busy work, he finds himself grateful for it. And grateful, too, for the fact that they all seem to be in on the silent contract of never mentioning it to Goh, who would be none too pleased with him for it. As if being on his computer too much and eight months pregnant will, somehow, affect their child’s health.
For a good few hours, he applies himself to just doing things. Anything to keep his stubborn brain engaged, rather than running in listless, frustrated circles while he stares at the wall and hates himself, and his husband, and their unborn child.
At some point, Umbreon jumps up on the couch and curls up next to him. As he strokes her fur and reads through the article Professor Rowan sent him by one of the current interns at the lab in Sandgem, he feels a sense of peace and calm wash over him. Like this, he can almost imagine he really is still a bright-eyed researcher-to-be stepping out into his own for the first time. It was scary, back then. He doubted himself more often than he didn’t. But it was exactly where he was meant to be, and not a day has gone by that he has truly regretted a single moment of it.
He doesn’t realize that the sun has risen until he hears movement from down the hall. With a stab of something annoyingly close to guilt, he closes the lid on his laptop and awkwardly makes to return it to its place on the coffee table. As he does so, Umbreon stirs, blinking up at him with a gaze Gary can only describe as distinctly unimpressed. He has no time to tell her off for it before Goh appears at the entrance of the living room. His expression softens with relief as soon as he spots Gary on the couch.
“You’re up early,” he remarks. “Did you not sleep well?”
“I slept fine,” Gary lies. “I just got up a little early because I had to use the bathroom and couldn’t go back to sleep after.”
That part’s technically true, but Goh still looks uncertain as he approaches. He comes to a halt in front of Gary—and he’s still in his pyjamas, so he must have decided finding Gary was his first priority this morning when really it should have been showering and getting dressed—and leans down to run a hand over his forehead and brush his hair back, as if looking for some sign of illness upon him.
Barely refraining from rolling his eyes, Gary tells him, “I’m fine. If you waste any more time trying to convince yourself I’m not, you’ll just be late for work.”
“You look a little pale,” Goh protests. “Are you sure you’re okay? Maybe you should go back to bed.”
He’s not really one to talk, frankly. He has heavier bags under his eyes than Gary does under his, and he actually did sleep through the night. His recent bout of tossing and turning hasn’t been lost on Gary, though. It’s only the knowledge of that that allows Gary to tell him with any ounce of kindness, “I’m fine. You don’t need to hover. Just go get ready for work.”
Goh wilts, pulling his hand back. His gaze flickers hesitantly to Gary’s stomach, and then back up to his face. Finally, he nods, and says, “If you’re sure. Give me a few minutes and I’ll make us breakfast before I go.”
There’s no chance to tell him that’s not necessary before he rises and turns to go back to the bedroom. Really, Gary ought to be grateful; he is tired, and hungry. The last thing he wants to do right now when every part of his body aches is get up and start cooking.
But the truth is, when he thinks about the fact that Goh gets to leave here today and go to work, he finds his blood congealing with rage. Part of him, willful and childish, wants to scream that it’s not fair. That there’s no reason to keep him from working right now, that, even if he can understand why it might be too dangerous to work with wild Pokémon, his situation doesn’t prevent him from being able to join a video conference and consult with other researchers on their projects, or otherwise use his expertise for something more meaningful than this.
More and more, he needs to remind himself that this was a choice they made together. That he knows Goh would trade places with him in a heartbeat if he could. Neither of them has ever been the type to just…take time off work. Sure, things like baby-proofing or keeping up on household chores or reorganizing the bookshelves they never got around to arranging properly when they initially moved are important enough—but it’s not the same as working, and they both know it. Never mind that half the things Gary could be doing around their apartment are liable to send Goh into a panic. As if vacuuming the floors is, suddenly, some sort of high-intensity deadly sport. Too often, while he is trying to wash up after dinner, or to help prepare the vegetables, or to just exist near the kitchen, Goh will shoo him away and finish the task for him, without even seeming to realize he’s doing it. When they were both still working, Gary didn’t think much of it. He’s been anxious about Gary’s comfort since the day he found out he was pregnant. If doing a menial task Gary’s not particularly fond of anyway is what it takes to keep him occupied, then it was a slight annoyance Gary was willing to tolerate.
But now that he has nothing else to do, it’s beyond slightly annoying. It happens again that evening, and Gary just barely refrains from snapping about it. If he leaves the kitchen in a huff, Goh either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Gary’s too exhausted from a sleepless night and a day filled with a whole lot of nothing to find it in himself to be less dramatic about it all; while they eat dinner, he barely says a word to Goh—and after a few failed attempts at engaging him in conversation, starting with the most frustrating openers in the world right now, such as “How are you doing?” and “Did you get any rest today?” Goh gives up entirely. He’s visibly upset about it, too, which only pisses Gary off more. As if this isn’t all his own fault for kicking Gary out of the kitchen in the first place.
He doesn’t attempt to help with the dishes, just retires to the living room and stews in his irritation until Goh has cleaned up. When he finally finishes and comes around to join him, he looks completely worn out, in a way that makes Gary’s chest pang. With a sigh, he gestures for Goh to sit beside him, and reaches a hand out for him to take. He does, wordlessly; emotion hangs heavy off his frame, seeming to seep beneath Gary’s—particularly sensitive lately, he can admit—skin.
And yet, he cannot bring himself to speak to any of it. When Goh begins, almost immediately, to doze off beside him, all he says is, “I wouldn’t get too comfortable. I haven’t pissed in almost two hours.”
“S’okay,” Goh mutters, his head lolling against Gary’s shoulder. His free hand falls lightly against Gary’s stomach, seemingly without much thought. “Not sleeping.”
It is abundantly clear that he had an exhausting work day—but he’s not about to tell Gary so, when he knows as well as Gary does that not being able to work is pretty much the worst thing that’s happened to him in years. And yet, Gary wishes he would just admit that he is too tired to do everything himself. That he actually could use Gary’s help, rather than seeing him as some sort of pathetic liability that can’t even take care of himself.
But the last thing Gary wants to do is fight with him. Especially not when he is as high-strung as this. Especially not when he himself is running on only three or four hours of sleep and is twice as tired anyway, on account of the whole being pregnant thing. Maybe, he tells himself, they can have a more productive conversation tomorrow, when they are both a little more well-rested.
Except, Gary isn’t able to sleep again that night.
This time, when he tries to get out of bed for good, Goh stirs, too, and reaches out to him.
“Don’t go,” he slurs out, clearly still half-asleep.
“I just have to pee. Let go.”
But Goh’s hold on him only tightens. In the dark, Gary barely makes out the glimmer in his narrowed eyes—something small and fearful lurking within.
Though it is just about the last thing Gary wants to do right now, he heaves a sigh and promises, “I’ll come back after.”
A beat passes, and then Goh eases up. True to his word, Gary returns to bed after relieving himself, and finds Goh still awake, waiting for him. He seems slightly more lucid now, if his restrictive silence is anything to go by; but when Gary awkwardly angles himself back under the covers, turning his back to Goh to lie on his left side, Goh inches closer, as if he cannot bear to keep from touching him. Shortly after his arm winds around Gary’s waist, he is asleep again.
But sleep does not find Gary. The whole night, Goh clings to him, effectively keeping him in place while his mind races away from him. Once or twice, he thinks he may be growing tired enough to sleep, only to find his eyes coming open again with a suddenly renewed awareness of his discomfort: his back, his gut, his bladder. Eventually, a dull ache behind his eyes, which only makes him all the more frustrated by his inability to fall and stay asleep.
By the time Goh’s alarm is going off, he has only managed small snatches of sleep throughout the night. The sound from Goh’s phone grates against his ears, so loud within the empty air of their bedroom that, to his horror, he finds his eyes stinging, and filling with tears. He closes them tightly and lifts a hand to cover his ear in an attempt to drown it out, while Goh finally lets him go long enough to swing around and turn it off.
But even with the noise gone, Gary does not feel any less like crying.
A few beats pass, and then he feels a hand on his, gently pulling it away from his ear.
“Are you okay?” Goh whispers, and, though he wishes it would not, Gary’s jaw clenches with fury.
When he doesn’t respond, Goh tries again: “Gary? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Gary snaps, though the effect is diluted by the rasping quality of his voice. “I’m just trying to sleep.”
“Oh.” Goh falters. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m sorry.” He pauses for a long moment, clearly wanting to say more. But then he doesn’t. Just leans down and brushes his lips against the line of Gary’s jaw, and tells him, “Go back to sleep. I’ll see you when I get home.”
The gesture loosens something in Gary—but nothing he particularly wants to set loose right now. All he can do is lie still and choke back the emotion until he is sure Goh has left the apartment. He doesn’t even really know why he is crying, only that it hurts, badly, more than he wants to admit anything really could hurt him. It compounds with a fear deep inside of him he only allows himself to turn around and analyze within the quiet of seclusion: the fear that, maybe, this is a mistake, that he is not fit to be a parent after all, that he is too abrasive, too independent, too misaligned. When he told Goh, all those months ago, that he really does want to keep the baby, perhaps that was just arrogance, too. Instead of what he wanted, shouldn’t he have been thinking of her? Their daughter… What would be best for her?
Even now, she is a constant presence. Steady heartbeat, limbs in motion, brain and skin and bone. Always, he can feel her, beneath the ache of an overwrought heart. In his better moments, he imagines what she will look like; he wonders, with a sense of yearning unlike any other he has experienced, how she will fit into his arms. When she opens her eyes for the first time, what will he see reflected within them? The depth of his curiosity frightens him. It was so much easier to ignore when he still had projects of his own to manage.
He cries until he has exhausted himself of emotion, at which point, finally, he does feel himself drift off back to sleep. It is more restful than he could have hoped for, but cut short within hours by the pressing need to urinate, and, shortly after, the pressing need to feed himself. He goes through all the motions, but his feet drag. Somehow, he feels outside himself, hollowed out even as his sole awareness remains on everything that is inside him. The whole day is like this, at least until evening falls over the apartment in draping shadows and Goh returns home. He offers Gary a greeting that Gary cannot bring himself to return. Suddenly, he is overwhelmed by unbearable emotion again. It is all he can do to turn his attention to the first random TV program he finds when he grabs the remote and try to drown it all out.
Dinner is a subdued affair again, but by the time it is over, Gary’s senses have sharpened into restless anxiety. Rather than start a fight over something as inconsequential as doing the dishes, he excuses himself to bed.
From where Goh is busy stacking dishes in the sink, he pauses. When he turns around to face him, Gary tells himself he was expecting the way the concern knitting his brow seems to stab straight between his ribs.
“It’s really early… Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” Gary denies. “Just tired.”
“Did you eat enough today?” Goh worries. “You’re burning even more calories than usual, so you need to—”
“I know. I’m not an idiot.”
“I didn’t say you were. I just…”
Gary looks away from him, determined to not let the guilt sink its teeth into his skin. “I ate enough. I just didn’t sleep that well last night. It’s not like I have anything better to be doing right than sleeping and eating, anyway.”
“Gary—”
“Forget it. I’m going to bed.” He pauses, and then, more sardonically than he knows Goh deserves, adds, “Thanks for cooking. And cleaning up. And everything else.”
He doesn’t wait around for a response, though he can imagine perfectly well the anger contorting Goh’s face. It’s nearly as satisfying as letting the bedroom door slam behind him is, at least until the moment he realizes he has trapped Grookey in here with him and begrudgingly has to open the door again to let him out.
He does get into bed, and does find himself falling asleep relatively soon after. But only for a short time. He wakes again well before Goh joins him, frustrated all over again by his body’s apparent refusal to just let him rest.
But by the time Goh does join him, he is simply too agitated to hope to sleep again. If Goh realizes he is awake, he doesn’t say anything about it; and when he slips into bed beside him, he keeps a healthy distance between them. It takes a long time for him to fall asleep—and to eventually bridge that gap between them.
It is unlike him. Normally, Gary is the one who can’t seem to keep his hands to himself in his sleep—which he has always been quick to deny after the fact, even, or maybe especially, after the first time Goh admitted he found it rather cute. Goh, on the other hand, seems somehow conditioned to make himself as small as possible, late at night. Again and again, Gary turns to that look in his eyes the night before, the fearful timbre of his voice begging, Don’t go.
Aside from every few hours when he inevitably needs to rise to use the bathroom, Gary doesn’t go. Even though he remains restless and upset. Even though he wants nothing more than to leave their bed and do something, anything, to just stop thinking and feeling for a while.
The next morning is much the same as the last, and the rest of the day, too. When night comes, it begins anew: he is distant and annoyed, they exchange nothing more than a few barbed words, he finds himself awake at all hours of the night hating himself for the way he cannot bring himself to say anything about the exhaustion his husband wears home from work every day. For days, they carry on like this, while Gary feels himself growing more and more tired, unable to do much more than cry and rage in the morning until he has collapsed on the couch and slept even just a few more hours.
It comes to a head on Saturday, though—Goh’s first day off of work since Gary’s leave started earlier this week.
He has no choice, really, but to eventually get out of bed and join him in the kitchen. He radiates anxiety, as he has done all week; he can’t seem to help himself from asking if Gary is okay, from approaching him and reaching out and holding his hand in his for a moment, as if he fears his fingers will phase right through it. Gary pulls away from him, with a little more violence than he means to, but even so he turns around again and beginning making him breakfast—even though he has clearly already eaten, himself—and Gary hates himself, viscerally, more than he thinks he has ever hated himself before.
But even knowing it is wrong, he cannot help the way he avoids Goh’s gaze, the way he sets his hands firmly in his lap and makes him place the plate of eggs and toast on the table in front of him, rather than reaching out and risking their hands brushing. He is being petulant, for reasons he cannot bring himself to articulate. It has something to do with the way Goh wordlessly takes his dishes when he is finished and begins to wash them. Something to do with the way, all the while, his shoulders are tensed by emotion he refuses to acknowledge.
Gary tells himself he is too tired to bother trying to get him to open up. He returns to the living room and gently shoos Umbreon off the couch in order to lie down there himself. She jumps back up shortly after, curling up at his feet. More and more, lately, he has caught her watching him like this. It reminds him painstakingly of how she used to watch him early on in his academic career, when he was often running ragged on little to no sleep, no food, certainly not enough water. It was the way she watched him the first time his bad habits caught up to him and he fainted in his dormitory. This isn’t the same, though, and she ought to know that as well as Gary does. After all, there is no work to be done here. The only thing he can do is take care of himself. How could he possibly be failing at that right now?
But clearly, she and Goh both think he is. That, somehow, he is incapable. That he needs to swaddled up, watched closely, protected. He is sick to death of proving himself. The last thing he has ever wanted is anyone’s pity.
With her judgemental gaze boring into him, it takes some time for him to get comfortable, but he does eventually begin to doze off. He does not know how much later it is when a hand on his shoulder gently rouses him.
He blinks up, sluggish, to see Goh looking down at him with a sad, sympathetic smile. Very softly, he tells him, “If you need to sleep more, you should go to bed. It’s bad for your back to sleep on the couch like this for too long. You’ll be more comfortable on a mattress.”
It takes a moment for the words to sink in. When they do, they slam into him a furious tidal wave. With a concerted effort, he struggles to sit up, but when Goh reaches a hand out to help him, he slaps it away, glaring. He’s breathing heavily by the time he is sitting upright, but it doesn’t stop him from spitting out the words: “Can you fucking stop it already? I’m not a child!”
Goh’s gaze flashes. He pulls back, crossing his arms over his chest, and says, “I don’t think you’re a child. I’m just trying to help.”
“Well, don’t. I’m sick and tired of all your help. Would you just go away already?!”
As soon as he hears himself speak, he knows it was the wrong thing to say. He does not need to wait until the moment the emotion brimming behind Goh’s eyes cracks and snaps, flooding with tears. He does not need to wait until the moment he turns away from Gary, or for the moment he rushes for the door. It all happens so fast; he is up on his feet before he can even think about standing, but with his obtrusive belly, it takes too long. Desperation claws at him from within, compelling him to shout after his husband instead—but his anger is still all there, simmering beneath the surface. And the words are wrong, all wrong, so wrong, but they tumble out of him faster than he can hope to force them back:
“You’re just going to run away?! Don’t be such a coward! Turn around and face this, dammit! You don’t get to act scared now!”
Never one to miss out on the last word, Goh whirls around to face him again. He’s already halfway to the door, cheeks blotchy and red and shimmering with the tears he is still choking on as he yells back, “I am not a coward! You want me gone?! Then, fine! I’ll leave! Don’t change your mind now, Gary! You already made it perfectly clear how you really feel!”
Despite himself, Gary’s eyes well with tears, too. Furiously, he reaches up to scrub them away, snapping out, “What kind of selfish asshole would just leave his pregnant husband?!”
At once, Goh stops, stricken. A sob slips between his lips, jerking him back into the moment. As his tears begin to flow harder and faster, he ducks his head and runs both hands through his hair, pulling tightly at the strands, and chokes out, “It’s n-not like you’re giving me much choice!”
In the back of his mind, the image of Goh reaching out to him the other night comes back to him: Don’t go.
Gary wipes at his eyes again, and then, cautiously, approaches his husband, whose frame is wracked by the sobs he can’t hold back anymore. He stops in front of him, and awkwardly reaches up, all too aware of his belly pushing up against Goh’s midsection, to grasp his hands and pull them from his hair. It’s been a long time since Gary’s seen him this stressed out, and he tells himself he is ready for the shattered expression he knows he will see when Goh lifts his gaze again.
But he’s not ready for it. Sharp as glass, it cuts into his chest. Within him, the toxic awareness that he did this to Goh, without even meaning to.
All this time, Goh has been trying to help him, and he has been angry and resistant. It is not Goh’s fault; it is something within him, Gary, that screams and cries and insists that everyone else ought to see him exactly as he sees himself: useless and ugly and utterly unprepared to carry the weight of responsibility for his husband and his child and himself.
He’s not the only one, though. Is he?
“Dammit,” he mutters, as his eyes begin to swim with fresh tears again. As gently as his trembling hands will allow, he laces his fingers with Goh’s, and brings their joined hands down between them. They come naturally to rest upon his protruding stomach, which only seems to make Goh cry harder.
“I—I’m sorry,” Goh cries. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Gary rasps. “C’mon, let’s sit. Take a breath.”
“N-no, you don’t—” He stops, gasping, and tries again: “You don’t get to comfort me. I—I’m fine—”
Gary blinks, hard, to chase the tears from his eyes. As they slip down his cheeks, he says, with no particular heat, “Shut up.”
Though he doubted it was possible, Goh cries even harder. He is too beside himself to speak, so Gary simply tugs at his hands, guiding him back to the couch. Once he is sitting, Gary turns and squats down to sit as comfortably as he can beside him. It’s a real process, when he can only bring himself to let go of one of Goh’s hands, but he manages, and then awkwardly twists around to bring his newly freed hand up to Goh’s face to wipe away the tears still racing down it. It’s a fruitless endeavour, when more just fall after them, but he takes in a breath and he lets himself sink into the moment. Aside from his own ragged breathing, and from Goh’s hitched sobs, the room is silent. On the other side of it, Grookey and Umbreon are both watching them—and Grookey’s wearing that concerned look, too. Fleetingly, Gary wonders how he didn’t notice it sooner.
When, finally, he is able to wipe away Goh’s tears at a faster rate than new ones fall to replace them, he at last brings himself to say, “I’m the one who should be sorry.”
Goh just shakes his head, though. “I-it’s not your fault,” he croaks. “I knew you were annoyed, but I—I just worried, and worried, and…”
“And I told you you’re a selfish jerk for worrying about me.” Self-effacingly, Gary chuckles. “Can’t really overstate the irony of that, honestly. Even you have to realize how backwards that is.”
“Y-you’re pregnant,” Goh sniffles. “At least you have a reason for being upset.”
“And you don’t?”
Mutely, he shakes his head again.
“Idiot,” Gary says, with that hint of fondness Goh so often unwittingly drags out of him. “I’m not gonna leave, okay? And I don’t want you to leave, either. I’m just tired and pissed off and, honestly, fine—I’m scared out of my mind. You are too, right? Just ‘cause I’m the one carrying our baby doesn’t mean she isn’t both of ours.”
“You, scared?” Goh laughs, a heavy, tormented thing. “Never would’ve guessed. Why do you think I’m trying so hard to help?”
“Well, give it up already. I’m gonna be scared anyway. And so are you. No amount of taking care of me is gonna stop that, y’know.”
“I need to do something,” Goh says miserably. “If I just—sit around, I start feeling— I go crazy. Chrysa told me yesterday I look like I haven’t slept in three weeks, but I have, I just—I’m just so stressed out, and you—you don’t want me here, and I—I—”
Gary’s hand tightens around his, cutting him off. When their eyes meet again, the remorse that floods through Gary very nearly chokes him. But he forces the words out anyway:
“I do want you here. I need you here. But I’m stressed out too, and suddenly I don’t have anything to keep my mind off it. You’re running yourself ragged trying to do everything when if you’d just let me wash the dishes once in a while, I would feel a lot better about being stuck at home just waiting for the moment our kid is born. Never mind that maybe then you could sit down and rest a bit. You do look like you haven’t sleep in weeks. You look like a fucking mess.”
“Gee, thanks,” Goh mutters, lifting his other hand to rub at his eyes, one by one. “You’re totally glowing, on the other hand. Pregnancy’s made you sexier than ever.”
“Don’t be an ass. You’re not supposed to tell pregnant people they’re ugly.”
“Well, now you’re just putting words in my mouth,” he grumbles. “Who said I was being sarcastic, anyway? I know you’re stressed too, but you make it look so…graceful.”
Gary barely withholds a snort. “Seriously? Were you even having the same argument as I was? None of that was graceful. All I can think about is how much I’d rather be working. I feel like shit, I look like shit, I’m sleeping like shit. And I have to piss so often I’ve been considering just throwing a sleeping bag on the bathroom floor and staying there forever.”
“That’s not funny,” Goh snaps. “That would be so bad for—”
“Goh, stop.”
He does, clamping his jaw tightly. Gary reaches out to run his thumb along it, urging it to relax again. As it does, he lets out a sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he says again. “Y-you know every day I’ve been at work this week, I just—spend all day worrying about you? I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I guess I just—I just know you hate not working, and I think of all the things you could be doing instead that might not be good for you, and I just… It’s not like I don’t trust you. But I…I can’t stop myself. I worry so much I start to feel sick.”
And, really—that should’ve been obvious. It was obvious. But Gary was so busy being furious that he wouldn’t admit he was upset, somewhere along the way he forgot to wonder why he might be so upset.
“You could have said something,” Gary points out softly. “It’s not— I’m not mad that you’re worried about me. It’s kinda sweet, really. You’re just…not giving me much space to breathe, here.”
He winces. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to.”
“I know. And…” He stops, tilting Goh’s head up again to shoot him a wavering smile. “I’m sorry too, y’know. You could’ve said something, but…I could’ve, too. It’s my fault too.”
With clear effort, Goh attempts to mirror his expression. “I guess it must be pretty serious if you’re saying sorry.”
“Do you accept my apology or not?”
His poor imitation of a smile falters. “I… I don’t— Do you really want me to stay?”
His tone betrays the depths of his insecurity. There is no doubt it will take time to convince him. For now, the best Gary can do is nod, and tell him, “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with. We’ll need you here. Both of us.”
Goh drops his gaze down to Gary’s stomach, expression softening. When he lifts his head to meet Gary’s eyes again, he leans forward and brushes their lips together, fleetingly; within the gesture, there is forgiveness.
As he pulls back, he suggests, “Why don’t we get some rest? I think we could both use a few extra hours of sleep.”
“That might be the most sensible thing either of us has said all day,” Gary has to admit. “C’mon, then. But before we go to bed, just gimme a few minutes or as soon as I lie down I’m gonna have to pee. Again.”
Finally, finally, Goh smiles—soft, and small, but genuine. “It’ll get better after she’s born.”
“Yeah.” Gary squeezes his hand one last time. “We’ll get better. But ‘til then…mind helping me up?”
Goh stands, and meets his eyes. Openly, earnestly, sweetly—nothing but love and devotion to him, to the future they have chosen to carve out together. It will take time. But they both said months ago, didn’t they, that they both wanted to put in the work?
At last, Gary allows himself to accept his helping hand, and to draw Goh against his side in turn.