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It's been a year. A long ass year for them. It was August 5, 2027 now, as he looked at the calendar on the desk.
Jack Abbot has been on the shift since 7:00 am and now it is 12:00 midnight. It wasn't like he had anything planned. It wasn't like they had anything planned.
But he didn't push himself too much; he knew his limits. So when he retyped laceration for the 5th time now, he knew that it was time to go.
He slowly turned to the man occupying the seat beside him, also charting—he assumed— the last one today.
"Hey, Whit. Time to go home?" He said, looking at Dennis.
Dennis didn't look up from the computer, delaying his reply for a few clicks. Then, the computer went to its default screen; he finally turned to Jack and said,
"Yeah, alright."
Jack nodded at him before standing up and stretching his arms up. He saw in his periphery that Dennis did the same. He looked around the department, looking for a particular attending. Once he spotted Shen, he just nodded, to which the man waved at him. They'd done handovers a few hours ago, the actual end of Jack's shift.
He worked days and nights for 10 months now, covering any shift had a gap. He didn't overdo it; he's sure about that, making sure that he actually had two consecutive days off every week or two.
Dennis, on the other hand, volunteered for swing shifts every now and then; today had been one of those days which he was grateful for.
His body worked on autopilot at this point: locker, change, bag, and car. Trusting Dennis to follow, he did just that.
Jack was not proven wrong with that trust because as he got to the passenger side of the door, it was already open and Dennis was grabbing the bag he was carrying. He begrudgingly let the younger man take it as he hopped in.
When he settled down, he closed the door and bent over to massage his leg and carefully release his prosthetic. He also opened the built-in compartment below the dashboard, grabbing the familiar cream.
As soon as he finished rubbing the soothing cream on his stump, he leaned back to the backrest and pulled his seatbelt down, locking it. Just in time as the car shifted to the new addition of a weight beside him.
Dennis turned the key, turning on the ignition. Another turn and the car's engine cracked into life.
"Seatbelt?" The younger man checked.
"Yep. Seatbelt." He said as he looked at himself from the side mirror, seeing the strap over his chest.
"Leg?" Dennis didn't look at him as the man double-checked the mirrors and surroundings.
"Partially gone." He says dryly.
"Jack." The younger man snapped his head, turning to him.
Jack rolled his eyes. "Fine. You know that."
Dennis shrugged as he put his hands on the wheel. "No harm in double-checking."
The way to their house had been a blur for Jack. It was familiar. Too familiar. It didn't help that it started to rain around 5 minutes from home.
By the time Dennis had parked, the rain was pouring down hard. The two men, too frustrated and exhausted, just said, "Fuck it. They'll shower, anyway," and ran towards their porch absolutely soaked.
When they entered the house, they immediately started to strip off their soaked shoes and clothes.
They had a routine for times like these: Jack would go shower, Dennis would put the soaking clothes in the dryer and cook whatever dinner he came up with.
That's what exactly happens. Jack grabs his crutches beside the shoe rack as soon as he finished (neatly, mind you) stripping before beelining for the bathroom.
The shower was great. He felt his muscles slowly relax. The hot water was pleasant, calming. When he finished his shower, he saw clean clothes on the sink, which he changed into after drying himself.
When he came out of the bathroom, he saw Dennis with a towel around his neck, who had already changed into a dry and comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants, in the kitchen, humming and cooking something in a pan.
He smiled at the sight and went over to him and hugged him from behind. "Done. Your turn. I can take over that," he said as he slowly let Dennis go and grip the handle of the pan.
"Finally. It's cold out here, you know?" Dennis groans playfully as he slid out of Jack's hug and let go of the pan.
Jack chuckles at his response, turning his shift to cooking as he heard Dennis shuffle out of the kitchen.
Somewhere around 1:10 am, Jack had already had plates ready on the small coffee table in the center of their surrounding couches, and Dennis had already re-emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp from the shower, making his way to the couch, where Jack was.
Dennis plopped down beside the man, TV remote already in hand and turning it on. He immediately clicked on BHO, a streaming service they frequently used. He frowned when a prompt message popped up instead of the usual loading screen; it read:
' Sorry. You have not renewed your subscription. Please try again later or check your account.
[ Retry ] [ Check Acc ]'
"You really can't have anything good after a shift, can't you?" Dennis grumbled at the same time he heard Jack groan beside him.
"I swear this is automatically subscribing. It's literally connected to my bank account." Jack said irritably.
"Well, maybe you ran out." Dennis chuckles, teasing Jack. Dennis clicked the 'Check Account' option.
They were not prepared for what they saw next.
Robby's face with a circular frame stared back at them.
With the text below:
' Michael Robby [email protected]
Is this your account?
[ Yes ] [ No ] '
What?
"What?" Dennis hears himself say. Shakily.
Jack tried to swallow when he heard Dennis' voice.
They both looked at each other slowly, seeing both of their watery eyes.
Dennis broke first, slowly smiling at Jack.
Then before they knew it, they were both laughing.
Not laughing softly. No. It was genuinely loud laughs from the both of them.
"Oh my fucking god! We're both idiots!" Dennis says as he tries to catch his breath.
"I can't believe we forgot," Jack says as he holds onto the couch and tries to control his own breathing.
"Fuck—" Dennis says as he wipes a tear from his eyes. He leaned back onto the couch, his hand wiping his eye.
Suddenly, the tears didn't stop. His hand kept wiping and wiping, and yet, his vision remained blurry.
Someone was sniffling. Someone was hiccupping. He didn't notice that someone was him.
Somewhere in-between his tears, he saw Jack. Jack also had tears running through his face. He also saw that the smile Jack had was slowly faltering as he looked at him.
Dennis gently got closer to him. Fighting his own crying back. He put his hand on his shoulder, making the older man focus on him.
That's what broke Jack. He was now sniffling and softly whimpering. As soon as he saw Dennis' own wet and blotched face, he pulled the younger man into a hug. And Dennis? He just hugged tighter.
Michael "Robby" Robinavitch has been dead for a year.
Michael "Robby" Robinavitch had left Jack and Dennis alone for a year now.
Michael had killed himself a year ago. In the third month of his sabbatical. In this house. Slitting his wrists and overdosing. Dennis had been the one to find him.
And he had the nerve to leave them a year of automatic paying subscription of a TV streaming service? What a fucking joke.
It wasn't a joke, though. Jack and Dennis both knew that.
That's what hurts more.
It was just so like him.
It was him. It was the Michael Robinavitch they knew, know. The one that loves watching whatever cheesy romcom or reality TV on BHO. The one that came home to them two weeks before the end of his sabbatical. The one that got them into the habit of watching TV while eating dinner. The one that got them watching whatever sport they weren't into. The one that they missed so fucking much.
What do you do with this much love left over?
Dennis and Jack were left there. In the house they were too attached to. In the house where they had no one but each other to understand now. In the house that they both knew didn't take Michael's life away, but reignited it. Just not enough for him to stay.
They were left dealing with the love that had nowhere to go. They were crying and hugging on the couch, where Michael had laughed and opened up to them the first time.
The dinner was cold now. The TV was off. The two men were together, limbs entangled, as if letting go meant one of them would disappear. Both with red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks on their faces.
It was 2:00 am now. Dennis glanced at the clock on top of the TV.
Jack noticed too. 2:00 am. An hour since that prompt.
Dennis lifted his head from Jack's chest and looked at him.
"Grief just hits us randomly, huh?" Dennis chuckles.
Jack chuckled back, sitting up slightly, "Yeah."
It was silent for a few minutes before Dennis sat fully up. Jack raised his eyebrow at him before sitting up too.
Dennis looked down at the food, then at the TV, then down again, "Do you think... he'll want a renewal?"
Jack could hear the hesitation. He didn't reply immediately; instead, he looked down at the food. He sighs as he picks both of the plates off the table and puts one on his lap and offers the other one to Dennis.
"Yeah." He says softly.
Dennis nodded at him. He exhaled and silently accepted the plate from Jack.
And if they both started to cry again while eating? That was only for them to know.
And if they both held each other as they tried to sleep? That was only for them to know.
And if Jack transferred some of his money to Robby's linked bank account to BHO? That was only for him to know.