Chapter Text
Fan and Test Tube had been best friends since middle school. They both had been weirdos: geeks, nerds, dorks, they had heard it all. And they both felt quite lonely and misunderstood until they met each other. And when they met, they had clicked instantly. It was one of those friendships where they knew nearly everything about each other within a week.
Fan grew fond of her quickly. Very fond. Over the years, he had developed feelings for her and they’d grown into something which hurt his chest to think about. They ended up going to the same college, luckily, and both of their roommates were dating so they went round each other’s quite often. Whenever they went out, they were stuck at each other’s hip. But he had always doubted himself, and convinced himself she could never, ever like him the way he liked her.
He was quite wrong - she was absolutely head over heels as well. But she’d managed to believe the same thing - how could he ever like her?
But she still remembered the first day they kissed. It was late night at prom, and they had ran away because they were both shitty dancers. He had wanted to ask her to prom, but he was too shy. So when they escaped into the forest nearby, she just went for it as they were walking. Only on his cheek. She remembers that day as clear as the stars were that night. That was the best night of their lives - when they became boyfriend and girlfriend.
Since, they had been dating for a few years, and they had moved into a small apartment together. It was their fifth anniversary today. But he wouldn’t be able to spend it with her.
Not after he got caught in that fire.
She remembers it clear as the flames that licked the sky before her. They were both at a café together last week. He had gone to use the restroom. She saw smoke coming from the kitchen and everyone was evacuated. The building was engulfed in flames. But his restroom lock had jammed and he couldn’t get out. She remembers the bruises on her arms from being restrained by the police to go back in there and find him. Any day, she told herself, she would’ve chosen for it to be her instead of him. She remembers seeing him pulled out of there by the firefighters, and how she had to lurch over and be sick. She didn’t normally have a weak stomach. And since then, he had been stuck to a hospital bed; wires came in and out and everywhere. They looked like they were tangling him, tying him to the bed, but since she had a great knowledge of biology, she knew why he needed them. She hadn’t had the stomach to visit him yet. Just the sight of him being wheeled out of the burnt café was enough to make her vomit. She wasn’t ready to see him again. Not as injured as he was.
———
She woke up on his side of the bed after a very broken sleep. She was hugged by his hoodie and his favourite playlist was on quietly, as she fell asleep to it. It was his favourite song playing. ‘A Party’ by Spoiled Lemon. She knew she had to turn it off to start her day, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
She picked up her phone. The date read ‘August 1st’. Five years since they had declared their love. An overwhelming guilt had been gnawing at her because of her lack of visits to him. He was open to visitors now, but only close friends and family. AKA, her. And she hadn’t seen him once. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. The thought of seeing him weak, about to die, helpless… It made her heart rate spike and her breathing shallow. But it was their fifth anniversary, she thought, so it’s worth paying him a visit. She had gotten him a few gifts and wrote him a few cards, so at least a visit to drop them off would be nice.
As the song came to an end, she paused it before the next one dared to begin, knowing she wouldn’t have the heart to pause that one either. No motivation had come to her to take care of herself after the accident, but she had found a way to get herself to eat and drink semi-normally.
She stood up slowly, not bothering to derange her knotty, greasy, black hair, or wipe off her smudged, messy, week-old makeup. It was from their café date and taking it off felt like she would lose the memory of him. Despite being sweaty and overheating, she refused to take his hoodie off either. Making her way to the kitchen, she got out a pan and some pre-mixed pancake batter and grabbed two plates. She poured some oil onto the pan and poured out the mix onto it, frying one and putting it on one plate. She used up the rest of the batter to fry one more she placed it on the plate next to hers. She sat down and pushed one plate in front of her seat, one in front of the empty seat next to her. She grabbed some syrup and drizzled it on both of the plates. Normally she had it on the side, but he liked it everywhere. So now she did too.
She sat herself down and took a small bite of her own pancake.
“I’d love to go stargazing with you again sometime,” she said between chews to the empty room. “It was amazing last time we did it. It was spontaneous, of course, because you love that randomness. The element of surprise, I suppose.”
She cut up her food into pieces and placed a couple more forkfuls into her mouth. “I can see why. There is a certain thrill of not sticking to a set routine. A set of rules.” She ate a little more. “Pancakes are your favourite, aren’t they? I’ve never really liked syrup. It’s a bit too sweet for me. You seem to like everything and nothing. You’re so fussy and not at the same time. I’ve always liked that about you.”
She pushed a few crumbs around her plate with her knife. “Why am I acting like you’re dead? I feel crazy. I mean…” She fell quiet.
“Please don’t die on me, Fan.” She couldn’t stomach any more food so she pushed the rest of it into the bin with her fork and placed her empty plate into the loading stack of dishes in the sink. She grabbed his (still full) plate and opened the fridge. “You can have this when you recover and make it back home.” The vibrations of the echo into the empty room stabbed into her heart as she placed the plate of pancakes onto a specially-organised shelf of just food she had made for him when she ate herself.
Her eyes watered a little and she glanced at herself in the mirror. It was blurry, and she couldn’t see herself, and that could be because she didn’t have her glasses on or because her eyes were filled to the brim with tears that threatened to fall. She pressed the sleeve of his hoodie against her eyes to absorb her tears and she noticed it seemed clearer. Her hair was still knotty, she still hadn’t taken her makeup off, and she was breaking out in acne again. She had incredibly large dark circles and she was a sickly pale despite having brown skin. She walked out and opened her closet, where she had put the little presents and cards to place next to him when she finally got the courage to visit. One card was a collage of photos of them, with a few hearts inside and a little “happy anniversary” message. Another card was a letter, full of words of affection, concern, and wishes for him to get better. As for gifts, she got him a new iPad to take notes with (as she saw how much he loved his old one), a few notebooks, a signed album from Spoiled Lemon, and she had made him a handmade blanket. She had only learned to crochet a couple months ago, but she was really good at it. She claimed to be terrible at it, and that’s what she had believed, but she was much better than she thought.
It wasn’t too much. But she hadn’t gone out a lot and it hurt to think about him. She placed them in a bag and pulled out her phone, ringing her friend, Paintbrush.
“Hello? Test Tube? How are you? I haven’t heard from you in forever. Are you holding up okay?”
“Yeah.” Her voice was flat and tired. “Can I have a lift to the hospital please?”
“Oh, of course. Did something happen with…?”
“It’s our anniversary today. I want to visit him if that’s okay.”
“Ah, yeah, of course. When do you want a lift? Now or later?”
“Now please.”
“That’s fine. … Test Tube, are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure? This must be really hard for you.”
“Worry about Fan, not me. He’s the one who’s nearly dead.”
“Of course we’re worried about him, but you’re our friend too. You know me and Lightbulb are a text away.”
She stayed quiet.
“Are you holding up okay?”
“Not really,” she sighed shakily, “but I’m… I don’t know. It’s complicated.” She laughed breathlessly, trying not to tear up and cry yet again.
“Your apartment must feel really lonely.”
“It is.”
“Do you want us to come over?”
She stopped to think. She could really use the company, but if they messed up anything the way Fan had left it, she would be utterly furious and angry and upset and overwhelmed and so many other things. “No thanks.”
“Yeah, totally. Do you want me to come and pick you up still? You’re not in a state to be driving.”
“I…” She suddenly felt bad for burdening them. “I can drive just fine.”
“No you can’t. … I’m on my way.”
She mumbled a thanks before hanging up. Suddenly, the thought of seeing him in hospital made a pit grow in her stomach. What if he wasn’t getting better? What if he was truly dying? He was barely stable according to the doctors. She really couldn’t do this without him. She felt the bile rise in her throat as her mind started racing with ‘what ifs’. Her hand clamped around her mouth and she clutched her stomach as she stumbled to the bathroom. She immediately lurched over the toilet and gagged. Her stomach emptied into the toilet as she gripped onto the toilet lid with a grip that made her knuckles white. As she stopped, she gasped to catch her breath. She heaved once more before being sick once more. She wiped her mouth with a napkin and rinsed her mouth out as she flushed the toilet. Test Tube sat against the wall, watching the room spin before her eyes. She shut them for a couple minutes before she heard the doorbell echo throughout her house.