Archive of Our Own

[23:50] Qifrey: but please call me back when you can

[23:47] Qifrey: he's stable so don't freak out when you read all this. sorry for the spam calls x

[23:22] Qifrey: we're on our way to chelsea and westminster now

[23:10] Qifrey - 2 Missed Calls

[22:56] Olly - 1 Missed Call

[22:49] Qifrey: okay you're probably asleep and i'm sorry to be sending this via text but there's been an accident everyone's mostly okay but easthies hit his head and is unconscious

[22:44] Qifrey: please pick up

[22:43] Qifrey - 3 Missed Calls

It had been completely by chance that he was disrupted from his sleep an hour after receiving that last message.

When Utowin woke, it was with a startle; he doesn't process the sound he heard to be from a group of young men outside his flat complex causing a ruckus at nearly 1 o'clock, he just knows he was in the middle of a wonderful dream about winning a lot of money through a lottery of some sort. He groans, shoving his face into his pillow, miffed that it was merely a dream, and that he had been so rudely interrupted from it.

He reaches for his phone on the bedside table beside him, wanting to check the time by force of habit. He'll be pissed if he's only got an hour or so before he needs to get up for work.

First, he sees the time, the numbers a blaring white against his dark background. 00:48. Thank god he's got hours more to sleep. The next thing he notices through his bleary, sleep-ridden vision is a barrage of notifications. His phone had been on silent, so he hadn't heard any of them.

The most recent, a text from Qifrey that was sent an hour ago, immediately sets off alarm bells in his head. He rarely texts Utowin, and he has never asked him to return a phone call, much less call him for any reason in the first place. With a quick swipe of his thumb, he goes through the rest of them, blood running cold as he reads.

He unlocks his phone and calls Qifrey.

"Utowin—"

"What's goin' on, where is he?" Utowin asks, throwing his legs over the side of his bed, fully awake now.

"We're at Chelsea and Westminster Hospital. He's stable, and his aunt is here now." Right. Qifrey mentioned that specific hospital in his message. He gets up, switches the light switch on, and starts rummaging through his chest of drawers.

"Okay, I'm comin' there. What the fuck happened?" He throws on a random band tee and some joggers, putting Qifrey on speaker.

Qifrey sighs on the other end, "We were on our way back from picking him up after his shift, some bastard rear-ended us."

Utowin doesn't have to ask, because he already knows, and he also knows he's going to get pissed at Qifrey's confirmation.

"Let me guess, Eas wasn't wearin' his seatbelt?"

Another sigh, "That's correct."

He's pissed. He's pissed, and he has every right to be, but he feels like he shouldn't be because his boyfriend is in the goddamned hospital and deserves some sympathy, but it's partly his own fault as to why he's there in the first place—

"Utowin?"

"Yeah, I'm still here. I'm comin' 'round. You said Vinanna's there as well?"

"Yes, she got here not that long ago. She's his emergency contact, it seems."

"Right." He exits his room, taking Qifrey off speakerphone as he brings his cell back to his ear, and closes the door behind him quietly. He's in a hurry, but he'd still hate to wake his flatmates.

"I don't know everything, they're only letting family see him for now, so you'll have to ask his aunt about his condition. Like I said, he's stable as far as I know. I believe they took him back for a CT scan soon after we arrived."

"Fuck, okay, thanks," He heads out the front door after slipping his shoes on, not bothering to untie and relace them. He stops inside the hallway.

"Really, Qifrey, I do appreciate it. Thank you."

There's emotion in his voice that he tries to swallow down, tries to ignore, because it's fucking with his head to think that just a few years ago, Qifrey and Easthies weren't all that close. He doesn't believe for a second that Qifrey wouldn't have taken care of him back then, too; that's just the kind of guy he is, but things are just… different, now. In a good way. In a way he's grateful for.

It must come through clearly despite his efforts, because he hears Qifrey on the other end sounding just as choked up.

"Please, there's no need. This is just what good friends do."

"Aye," He clears his throat, starts walking down the hallway again to the lift, "I'm gonna let you go now, I'll see you once I get there."

They say their goodbyes, hang up, and Utowin is on his own. He takes the lift to the ground floor, staring at his reflection in his phone's blank screen.

Fuckin' hell.

He walks out of the building and toward the nearest subway station. By a stroke of luck, this catastrophe has gone down on a Friday night, and the tube runs 24 hours on Fridays and Saturdays. Again, luck shows itself to be on his side, and the train arrives at the same time he does. He travels from the station at Hammersmith to Gloucester Road, silent the entire time.

He's in his head, thinking about every bad outcome, every horrible possibility. He's never been one to fret like this, but he's also never experienced anything quite like this. He's surprised at where his mind takes him.

Utowin exits the train. He's got roughly fifteen minutes of walking ahead of him to get to the hospital. He spends most of it fuming internally.

How many times have I told him about the fucking seatbelt. If he won't wear it when I'm not there—fuck! What the fuck do I do? Why doesn't he listen to me?

Why can't you just listen to me? I don't talk to you just to hear myself speak like some kind of idiot. I'm so pissed off at you.

I love you so fucking much, you prick. You'd better be alright or so help me-

He doesn't know when he had started crying, just that he noticed the soft wind of the summer night suddenly feeling cooler against his wetted cheeks.

"Fuckin' hell, Eas. What are you doin' to me?" He mumbles for nobody to hear but himself. He's not sure he'd want an answer, anyway.

After some speed walking, he arrives at the hospital, going through the Emergency Department as Qifrey had instructed before their call ended. He's allowed to check in as a visitor, and once he's in the main waiting area, he spots Qifrey. They embrace each other, a rare occurrence.

"Where's Olly?" Utowin asks as they pull away from one another.

"Waiting in the car. We can't stay, I'm afraid. I just wanted to wait for you."

"You drove here?" Utowin asks, surprised, "After the accident? You talk to the police?"

"A safety check was done, we were cleared. We weren't hit too hard, thank god, but yes, Olly handled filing the police report."

"Aye, that's good, that's good. And you're not hurt?" Utowin asks, checking him over.

"I'm fine, as is Olly. It really wasn't a bad accident, but Easthies hit his head on the back of the driver's seat pretty hard, on top of getting jostled around… but I think he's going to be fine, Utowin," he puts his hand on Utowin's shoulder, gives it a reassuring squeeze, "he'll be alright. No matter what happens, he's got you, he's got us, Vinanna. He's surrounded by loved ones. He's going to be okay."

Utowin latches onto him once more, because if he doesn't, he fears he may just start sobbing right there in the middle of the waiting room.

"Thanks. You're a good friend, Qifrey."

Qifrey returns the embrace and sighs, giving a gentle rub to Utowin's back, "I try. It's all we can do. Now," he pulls away, giving his shoulder one final squeeze, "I've got to get going. Please, keep me updated."

"I will." Utowin states, and then Qifrey is walking out the exit, and once again, Utowin is alone with his thoughts.

He tries not to spiral as he takes a seat on a chair in a row of maybe half a dozen, all of them empty. There are only about ten other people in the waiting area, from what he can tell. He wonders if these are normal numbers for a weekend, if they're usually higher. He's never had to wonder before.

He doesn't know how long he's been spaced out, thoughts on a loop about the whole situation, but suddenly Vinanna is coming out from the double doors that lead to the unit itself.

"Vinanna," Utowin stands, snapped out of his mental fog upon seeing her, "what's going on? How is he?"

"The boy's alright. Come with me outside, I need a cigarette."

The two make their way outside, Vinanna pulling out her pack and lighter from her bag. She offers Utowin one, which he takes and thanks her for.

Lit cigarette between two fingers, she takes a drag. Exhales. "They say he has a mild traumatic brain injury. They're moving him to the med-surg ward."

Utowin almost drops his cigarette.

"Traumatic brain injury?"

"Yes, he hit his head and lost consciousness. A concussion like that isn't to be underestimated," Vinanna takes another drag, ashes the stick into the smoking receptacle next to her, "It sounds worse than it is. He's been stable, and he woke up recently. Able to talk fine and whatnot."

Relief washes over Utowin at hearing his boyfriend is conscious, that his speech isn't impaired. He was hoping for the best, praying for it, even, but in the back of his mind still preparing for the worst. Maybe Qifrey was right, everything will be just fine.

"Slight problem though. For some reason, he thinks we're three years in the past. He thinks he's still in lower sixth."

At this, his cigarette does fall from his grasp.

He stands there and stares at her, slack-jawed. In return, she sighs, stubs out his cigarette with her shoe because she knows he's not going to pick it back up.

"They want to monitor him for a bit longer, so he's being transported. If all goes well, he'll be dismissed tomorrow or the day after, probably. Something about outpatient therapy—"

"Hold on, what do you mean, he thinks he's in sixth form again?" Utowin asks, trying not to sound as mad as he is about the fact that Easthies' former guardian of all people just glossed over that information as if it were nothing.

"Retrograde Amnesia," she says, as if Utowin would know what that means from the name alone. Amnesia, sure, it doesn't take a genius to figure that part out. The first is where he's lost.

"The injury caused him to forget most of the past few years, but his other cognitive skills are fine, as are his motor skills. There's no sure way to tell, but this could be temporary, lasting a few weeks at best."

"And at worst?" Utowin dares to ask.

Vinanna sighs. He suddenly doesn't want to know.

"At worst, it's permanent."

Utowin laughs. It's unbelievable. He feels like the universe is playing some cruel joke on him.

"So, you're telling me he could have three years of his life, just gone, like that," he snaps his fingers for emphasis at the last word, "And he'll never get them back? What is he supposed to do? His schooling, his work, all of it! Gone?!"

"There's no point in catastrophizing. We don't know what will happen, all we can do for him now is offer support. The rest can be figured out later," Vinanna finishes her cigarette, throws it out and turns toward the car park, "now, do you want a ride home or not?"

"Wh-what? I haven't even seen him yet, I'm not leaving—"

"He's being put on a different unit, that's why I had to leave him. Neither of us will be able to see him until tomorrow, during visiting hours, now that he's not in the Emergency Department."

Utowin scoffs, turns, looks around, almost helplessly as he brings his arms up, then back down, "You've got to be takin' the fuckin' piss out of me, this is a FUCKING JOKE!" he shouts, which Vinanna immediately reprimands by grabbing hold of him.

"Stop this! You're making a scene! Come now," she drags him by the arm to her car, and even though he's full of adrenaline, he doesn't fight her off.

"How dare you pull a stunt like that, boy," she sneers, using her free hand to dig around for her cigarettes once more, "we're in public, in front of a hospital, you can't go yelling like a fool at a quarter past 2 in the goddamned morning!"

Stopping once they reach her car, she turns to lecture him some more, but what she must see stops her.

From the years he's known her, Utowin has never thought Vinanna to be a very affectionate person. She never was with Easthies, at least. Being his guardian, she took care of his physical needs, kept him clean and fed, made sure he was a diligent student, but anything past that she felt was not within her purview.

Tonight, though, she offers something to Utowin he's never seen from her before.

She embraces him, and it completely and utterly breaks him.

However he looked in that moment, it must have pulled at something within that hardened heart of hers. She holds him, and he sobs, he tells her he's sorry, that he's just scared, and she offers comfort. It isn't the same nurturing touch, or reassuring words you'd get from a mother, but it's something. Something he hasn't gotten from an adult in his life in a very long time.

"I'm scared for him, too. I love the boy like he's my own," she sighs, patting him on the back, "and you, you take good care of him. I haven't told you, but I am grateful for you, Utowin."

They stay like that for a while, Utowin's crying tapering down to quiet sniffles after some time. Once they let go of each other, they climb into Vinanna's car, and they leave the hospital and Easthies behind. The drive back to Utowin's building is silent; there's not much either of them have to say after what just transpired. A mutual agreement to let things lie. He thanks her for the ride, and makes his way up to his flat.

He needs another cigarette. Actually, he'd really prefer a spliff.

He rolls one in his room and takes it out onto the terrace, quietly traversing through the sitting room and kitchen. Sitting in one of three chairs decorating the little outdoor space, he smokes in silence, trying to piece all of this together.

His motor skills are fine. The injury isn't so bad to the point that it will alter his life that much, at least. It's just his memory that's messed up. It could be permanent… that would be a major setback. He would have to relearn so much. Well, he's always taken his education seriously, to the point he was often ahead of most his age. It being doable isn't the question, I suppose.

He takes a hit, the thin rolling paper burning steadily with the cannibas and tobacco.

It could also be only temporary. He wouldn't lose everything, just go through a few weeks or months of ambiguity.

He needs to stop thinking about this, the weed was supposed to be helping with that.

He finishes his spliff, leaves the filter in the ashtray on the table and heads back inside. When he's back in his room, the shirt and pants he put on to leave get taken off again, strewn across his floor with the rest of the mess in his room. Flopping on his mattress on his stomach, he reaches for his phone to check the time.

2:50.

He's got about three hours to sleep before he needs to get up. Lucky for him, he's only working a half-shift tomorrow. He'll be able to go see Easthies around the time they start allowing visitors. He dozes off after a bit, the cannabis aiding him to rest.

He doesn't quite remember it when he wakes up, but he believes he dreamt of losing everything.

The next day, he heads over to the hospital straight from work. Checking in is simple, they give him his visitor badge and tell him the room number, and then he's off.

As he makes his way through the halls, he mentally kicks himself for not bringing anything with him. No flowers, a get well card, or anything of the sort. But then again, they were never the kind of couple to be into clichés. He regrets for a moment not bringing anything from the restaurant he works at, their weekend brunch is phenomenal. Whatever. He can smother his boyfriend in affection and good food once he's out of the hospital.

The door is open, he knocks once before entering.

"Hey there."

Easthies looks over toward him, previously being focused on the window beside him, looking out.

"Utowin…" he says, like he's a little surprised to see him.

"Yeah, that's me," Utowin says playfully, trying to keep the mood light, "I'm here. How are you feeling?" he grabs the chair closest to Easthies and sits at his bedside.

"Mmh… Quite confused, honestly. Given the circumstances, that makes sense, though."

Utowin notices the slight bruising near his brow.

"You still in pain?"

"Some. Nothing unbearable."

Utowin nods and takes Easthies hand in his, "I suppose that's what I should've expected. You saw Vinanna last night after you woke up?"

Easthies looks down at their joined hands, then back to Utowin.

"Yes. She informed me… about my life. I'm twenty years old, no longer in secondary school. I got accepted into King's. I'm studying law, like I planned to."

Utowin smiles warmly, "Aye, you are. I remember the day you got accepted," he rubs small circles with his thumb over the back of Easthies' hand, "I was so proud of you, still am."

Utowin brings the hand closer to him, and presses a gentle kiss to it. When Utowin looks at him again, he's met with a beautiful sight.

A faint blush painted over Easthies' cheeks, a slight look of surprise washed over his features. Utowin knows he's not one for PDA, even though they're in a private hospital room. He's sure Easthies still thinks this counts, though. He offers a warm smile in return, rubbing his thumb over the spot he just kissed. He wants to tease him about it, just a little. Then he notices it.

It's a look he doesn't see often, so rare in fact that he's only realized quite recently what it means. The small frown, the way his lips part as if he's about to start speaking, just to shut them again. Tight. He's got something on his mind, and he's hesitant to share it.

"Eas? What's wrong, love?"

"Utowin…" he starts, looking back down at their joined hands, "I apologize for what I'm about to ask, no matter the answer, I… am probably going to look foolish, but…" he looks back up, meeting Utowin's gaze.

"Are we together?"

He doesn't know why he assumed this aspect of Easthies' life, of his memories, would remain unaffected. He doesn't know why he spent so much of his focus and worry on other qualities of it, the ones that don't directly involve him. He isn't sure if the reason is because he sees himself as more or less important than everything else, in the grand scheme of things.

Utowin swallows, notices his throat's gone dry.

"Aye, we are. We've been in a relationship for three years, we celebrated our anniversary last month."

His head hangs, he can't look at Easthies. Not because he's angry, not at anyone but himself, anyway. Crying right now just wouldn't help any. He's already cried more in the past twelve hours than he has in the last year. When he looks back up, Easthies' expression is truly unreadable this time.

"Three years…" Easthies says, like he's testing it out, "Who confessed?"

"You did, technically. You told me you wanted to kiss me, so we kissed. Then sometime after that, I asked you to be my boyfriend."

"We kissed before we started dating?!" Easthies says it like it's the most absurd thing he's ever heard, "Wait, you were my first kiss?"

"Aye, I was. We were playing spin the bottle at Qifrey's—"

"Spin the—at Qifrey's?!"

He knows he shouldn't find it funny, but he can't help but let out a soft laugh at his boyfriend's disbelief.

"Yes, Qifrey's. We had a little get-together at his, Luluci was there too. She's who convinced you to go in the first place," he says, remembering the night fondly, despite the circumstances, "and then you went and dragged me along as well, said you wouldn't go if I wasn't there."

Now Easthies is blushing again, looking anywhere but at Utowin, "Well, you're my best friend. Of course I'd request your presence. I just find it hard to believe that I allegedly spent time in Qifrey's home. Willingly and of my own volition."

"Oi, don't be so surprised. You two are fairly close now, actually. You were in his and Olruggio's car when the accident happened."

He grimaces, "I did learn that from Vinanna, yes. It's difficult for me to wrap my head around, though."

"Yeah, that makes sense. But look, how about we take it easy for now? I wouldn't want to overwhelm you any further, I'm sure it's a lot to take in."

"I suppose…" Easthies looks at him, and once again back down to where Utowin's hand holds his. "I'm sorry," he adds quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

If that doesn't nearly bring Utowin to tears for the nth time that day.

"Eas, there's nothing' to be sorry for. You've done nothing wrong."

"Even so, I don't… I don't remember us. Not the us that exists for you. That must hurt—" Easthies doesn't get to finish, a soft knock on the doorframe of his room interrupts him.

A nurse comes in, introduces herself to Utowin and greets Easthies, says she's there to take Easthies' lunch order. He's grateful for the intrusion, he doesn't think he can bear to hear the rest of what his boyfriend was trying to acknowledge.

"Hey," he starts, softly once the nurse is gone, "I'm going out for a ciggy, and I'll stop by the cafe and grab something so we can have lunch together. That alright?"

"Yes." That's all Easthies says, and Utowin won't question it this time. It doesn't feel appropriate to do his normal poking and prodding.

When he's outside and far away enough from the building, he can't stop himself from barking out a laugh. Nothing's funny, he's just in so much disbelief he doesn't know how else to react. He pulls out his pack and subsequently a cigarette and the lighter stashed among them. He thinks he could smoke five in succession right there.

So now, does this mean he's effectively single? That his three year relationship, and everything they've built together, is just gone? It isn't even like any of this is by choice, either. He knows Easthies wouldn't want that… but right now, the version of Easthies in front of him isn't the same as Easthies from 24 hours ago.

24 hours ago, Easthies was getting ready for his shift at his summer job, talking over the phone with a groggy Utowin who was also preparing for his own. It was simple conversation, it was routine. Now, that routine and sense of normalcy has been taken from both of them.

Easthies was right, even if he couldn't finish his sentiment. It does hurt. It hurts Utowin, it hurts their relationship, it hurts many aspects of both of their lives, but most importantly Easthies' own.

He debates smoking another, but decides against it, arguing he'd be making his bo- Easthies wait too long, and makes his way back to the building.

He surveys his options at both the main cafeteria and the cafe located inside, decides on getting a tea and coffee, a serving of chili that looks to be decent quality, and a slice of apple cake he's hoping to share with Easthies, since he doesn't recall him telling the nurse about a dessert.

On his way back to the room, he has a moment to himself again.

If this is only temporary, then it probably won't be the end of our relationship. We can just take a break. I can handle that. But what if… if it lasts months, or even years?

He stops as he enters the unit, lost in thought.

I would no longer be effectively single, but actually single. We'd have to be broken up for good, wouldn't we?

Breaking up with Easthies is not something he has ever considered, not once. Not throughout the petty arguments, the nitpicking, the lecturing, the lack of good communication in the beginning, has he ever thought ending the relationship would be an option. They've always managed to work through things. To be torn apart through circumstance, something outside of their control…

Utowin watches as a young nurse leaves Easthies' room and begins walking in his direction.

"Excuse me, Miss…" he reads the badge on her scrubs as he approaches her, "Sinocia. Hi, my name is Utowin, I'm here visiting Easthies Sinclair, in room 209?"

"Oh! Hello, yes, I was just taking Mister Sinclair's lunch to him. Did you have a question for me?" she asks warmly, and Utowin can see she's very approachable, which he appreciates.

"Yeah, um, I was wondering, do you know- how likely is it that he'll, y'know, return to normal?"

"Well, I'm no doctor, but seeing that it's a mild case, it could very well only last a few weeks. Since his condition was brought on by a head injury, we know the underlying cause and how to treat that, but after he gets discharged, rehabilitation will be a key part of his care moving forward. Things like cognitive therapy and memory aids, as well as emotional support, will all be necessary for his recovery."

She smiles, that same warmth from earlier radiating off of her. Utowin actually feels a bit relieved. He tells her as much, and thanks her for her time, apologizes if he's taken up too much of it.

"Dear, don't you worry. You can come to me or any of the other nurses with any questions you may have. If you happen to see his doctor, he'll probably be able to give you more information on Mister Sinclair's condition and recovery. Take care, and enjoy your lunch!"

With that, she continues on with her task and Utowin makes his way back to Easthies' room, feeling a bit brighter than before he had left. He just needed to hear it from a professional, someone specialized in this sort of thing. He'll have his boyfriend back. He will.

He enters the room with his goods, seeing Easthies had waited on Utowin's return before starting his meal.

"Aw, you didn't have to wait for me, Eas."

"No, I wanted to." He watches Utowin sit back down and place the cup holder with his drinks in it on top of the small table that accompanies the chair. "What did you get?"

"Coffee, tea, some chili that looked like it wouldn't kill me," he teases, grinning, "and, last but certainly not least," he pulls out the slice of apple cake, showing to Easthies through it's clear container, "they had apple cake! Thought maybe we could share it."

Easthies hums in thought. "I'm not supposed to have refined sugars, it might make the headaches worse, but… perhaps a small bite won't hurt."

"Just a small bite, then," he looks to Easthies' tray, where a plate of baked salmon and vegetables sit, along with a cup of fruit and a newly filled pitcher of water on the rolling table it sits on.

"I spoke to one of the nurses, she says there's a good chance the amnesia will be temporary," he gathers up a spoonful of chili and guides it to his mouth, watching Easthies cut into his food.

Easthies waits until after he tries the fish on his plate to respond, something Utowin has noticed he usually does when he's stalling. Once he swallows and pats his mouth with a napkin, he speaks.

"I do not wish to speak about my condition anymore today. I apologize."

Utowin looks at him for a second, then looks down and clears his throat, stirs his chili around with his plastic spoon, "No, that's fine, no need to apologize. I'm sorry for mentioning it again."

It's awkwardly quiet for a bit after that, the only sounds in the room coming from the scrape of metal against a plate and Utowin quietly slurping up the last bits of his chili. What a time for things to get tense. He regrets telling Easthies about their relationship so soon, but what else was he supposed to do?

He opens the container holding the apple cake, giving it a better look. It looks fine, maybe a bit drier than it's meant to be, but definitely edible.

"You still want some of this?"

"Just a—"

"Small bite, I know, I know," he gives Easthies a cheeky smile and hands over the cake and his fork. Easthies brings the forkful of cake to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and slowly.

"It's good. The apples inside are a nice consistency."

Utowin takes it back and has a bite of his own, "Yeah, that is pretty good, thought it wouldn't be as moist."

The tension dissolves after that, and the two chat a bit more, about lighter topics like what films have come out that year, Luluci's holiday in Spain, Utowin's job as a line chef. That last one puts him on edge, the subject of Utowin deciding to quit school so he can work full-time instead coming up briefly. Easthies doesn't have much to say about it.

After about an hour, Utowin notices Easthies has gone quiet, his eyelids growing heavy.

"You're looking tired, want me to let you rest?"

"If you wouldn't mind."

"Of course not," he almost tacks on a pet name, but catches himself before he makes the mistake of making Easthies uncomfortable.

"Thank you. May I have a hug, before you go?" Easthies asks in a quiet voice.

Utowin nods, he'd never deny Easthies anything, and certainly not something as simple as a hug, even if he knows it's a bittersweet act due to their circumstances.

With arms wrapped around his lover's torso, Utowin holds on, as if letting go of him would mean letting go of every good thing he's managed to capture and keep.

Easthies of course returns the gesture, slipping his arms around Utowin in a familiar way that tugs at his heartstrings. He wishes they could stay like this, he wishes things could go back to normal. Maybe it's immature, but he doesn't want to deal with this difficult thing he's very much unprepared for, he wishes he could fight someone about it.

The hug ends, with Easthies pulling away first.

"Thank you, Utowin. I am glad you came to visit me, your presence is always a source of comfort."

Utowin puts on the best smile he can, as sincere as his fragile psyche allows, "You don't need to thank me, it's what I'm here for."

For a second, Easthies looks saddened by his words, but Utowin backs away, not ready to confront that.

They call out their final goodbyes, and promises to keep in touch via text, and Utowin is leaving that hospital for the third time that day.

His trip home is quiet, he spaces out on the tube until his stop is called. He's been doing a lot of that, lately. When he finally gets home, he repeats his practices from the previous night; roll a spliff, take it onto the terrace, smoke it and mull over the situation.

It's going to be temporary. Everything will be fine. It's going to be temporary. Everything will be fine.

He repeats it over and over again in his head while he's in the shower, and while he's dozing off in his bed, up until the very moment sleep takes him.

It isn't until a few hours later that he wakes, his nap being one of those that leaves a person feeling disoriented, not knowing if they've slept two hours or a full eight. His head hurts, he's still a little high, and he's utterly parched. He takes a few minutes to gear himself up for leaving the comfort of his own bed in pursuit of a beverage.

"Utowin! I didn't know you were home," Utowin's flatmate, Atwert, exclaims the second he steps out of his room. It gives him a little bit of a fright.

"Jesus—yeah. Was sleepin'," Utowin responds groggily, scratching at his clothed stomach as he makes his way to the refrigerator. He opens it, and his gaze hovers over his section of the shared appliance.

There's beer, and some diet soda, and… that's about it. Right. He'll have to go grocery shopping at some point.

He grabs a beer, some cheap lager he picked up the last time he went to the supermarket. He still doesn't know what time it is, but he thinks he deserves a nice cold one anyway, after the day he's had.

"I'm ordering in, was thinking Chinese, what do you say?" Atwert calls from his spot on the sofa. This finally makes Utowin look up at the clock on the wall, seeing it's about quarter past six in the evening. So the beer is appropriate, at least.

"Yeah, sure. Can you get my usual?" he asks, popping the tab on his can before he takes a swig.

In the year that Utowin has lived here, this is something they've made a habit; sharing a meal together when the members of the household can find time in their schedules to, doing it maybe twice a month or so on a weekend. He doesn't mind it, his flatmates are fine and it's probably a good thing to be able to bond with the people one lives with, he thinks.

"Of course, and will Easthies be coming around tonight?"

More often than not, Easthies will join them. Won't be this time, though.

"Nope," Utowin belches unceremoniously, doesn't bother to excuse himself, either, "he's in the hospital."

"What!? What happened? Is he alright?!" Atwert questions in a way that Utowin can only describe as classically Atwert. The type of guy who wears his emotions plainly on his face, gestures a lot with his hands, and is overall a bit cartoonish and over-exaggerated in his mannerisms.

Utowin takes another sip, "Yeah, he's alright, he'll be going back home tomorrow. There was an accident last night while Qifrey was taking him home, got rear ended. Eas hit his head and passed out."

"Oh dear… Well, I hope he makes a fast recovery."

"Mhm. Me too. He uh, he lost some of his memories, actually. It's fucked," Utowin makes his way over to the sofa, sitting on the opposite end.

"What?"

"The concussion, it gave him amnesia. When he first woke up, thought it was three years ago," he feels like this is the only thing he's been able to think or talk about all day. He kind of needs a break.

"But don't worry, it's most likely gonna go away in a few weeks' time."

"Oh, my… I do hope so, then."

They don't say anything else after that, at least while Atwert finishes putting in their order, and while Utowin finishes his beer, probably too quickly.

Once he's back in the kitchen to throw out his empty can and grab another, Atwert starts once more, "It's odd…"

"Hm?"

"The novel, the one I'm currently writing, I know I haven't talked about it much but… one of the characters, he gets his memory erased. He forgets his occupation, his colleagues and friends, his relationship, even. His lover finds him after the event takes place, and they have to navigate life together afterward…"

He's not not happy to listen to Atwert on the rare occasion his novelist friend chooses to share with him the subject of his writing, but this…

"It's a sad fate, having the love of your life forget you."

…

"Oh, forgive me! This is hardly the time to be rambling on about my silly little book, good god! I'm sorry, Utowin, I- that was quite inappropriate of me."

The embarrassment and remorse make themselves clear in Atwert's words and through his ever-changing facial expressions, and if Utowin were a worse man, he'd probably take serious offense to that faux pas. He'd probably do something he'd regret.

But he isn't, and that's just exactly what it is to Utowin. A faux pas. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Nothin' to worry about, mate. I appreciate you sharing about your work with me. You placed the order though, yeah? I'm gonna step out and have a ciggy, just let me know when it comes, aye?"

After quiet confirmation from his flatmate, Utowin grabs his pack and lighter from his room, takes his beer outside, and smokes two cigarettes consecutively.

It's been a rough seventeen hours.

The next day, ten minutes before his shift starts, Utowin gets a text from Easthies saying he's been discharged. He had expected it, but it still makes him smile to know Eas is home and not stuck in a hospital bed. He congratulates him and says he'll call him whenever he has the chance for a smoke.

He's feeling much better after a full night's rest, filling himself up on crispy beef, fried rice, and beer had managed to knock him out for another eight hours the previous night. He's got a minor hangover, but it's nothing he can't handle.

He works the grill station as a line cook at an Italian restaurant, very recently moving up from his former prep position. It's a ruthless, high-stress job, but Utowin's found he works best when he's forced to be moving quickly. To him, it's manageable work, and decent money.

A few hours later, he's outside with a lit cigarette hanging between his lips, staring at the "read" label underneath his last message. It's unlike Easthies to ignore him like this, even before they started dating. Maybe he's asleep? Utowin decides he'll check back the next time he steps out and quickly sucks down his cigarette so he can get back to his nagging coworkers.

Another few hours later he's scarfing down over-cooked meatballs with his phone to his ear, waiting for Easthies to pick up. He doesn't. Utowin has, like, five minutes before he needs to go back inside. He rings him again, and this time, Easthies finally picks up just before the call goes to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"Eas, hey. Are you alright? Are you home?"

"Oh, Utowin- yes, yes, I'm home. I'm sorry, I've been sleeping most of the day."

Utowin sighs, relieved, "Ah, that's good, my mistake for blowing your phone up, then."

"Please, it isn't a problem… You're still at work?"

"Yeah, I'll be here a few more hours…"

He wants to see Easthies. He knows he just saw him yesterday, and that not much has probably changed with his memory, but he still wants to. He needs to see for himself that Easthies is alright.

"Hey, how's about I come see you tonight, I can bring you something from the restaurant?"

There's a silence on the other end that makes Utowin hold his breath.

"I'd say yes, but, I believe Vinanna wanted to keep things quiet tonight. No visitors…"

He's disappointed, but he supposes it makes sense, being his first day home after the accident and everything. He's glad Vinanna is being considerate, at least.

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Uh, what about tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow should be fine."

Great, he should be able to make time before his shift to stop by, and he tells Easthies as much around a mouthful of chewy beef and pork.

Easthies apologizes again, they say their goodbyes, and Utowin returns to the kitchen, coworkers getting on his ass about the extra two minutes he spent outside. He takes their complaints like water off a duck's back, though. He's got something to look forward to tomorrow.

The next day, Utowin wakes up roughly one hour before his shift starts.

He'd overslept, or rather, forgotten to even set an alarm that would wake him up earlier. After his shift last night, a few of the guys he works with had invited him for a couple of drinks at the bar down the street. Being too sociable for his own good, he had accepted. Now, he's rushing through his shower and the rest of his routine to get ready with absolutely zero chance of making good on his plan to see Easthies.

He sends him a quick apology over text in the middle of brushing his teeth, towel loosely hanging onto his hips as he pulls his clothes for the day out.

His day goes on much like yesterday's; grilling chicken and shrimp and vegetables, taking five minute smoke breaks, texting Easthies when he can, eating the day's misfires. Habitual, quite uneventful.

He tries not to dwell on his mistake, it won't matter anyway since tomorrow he's off work, and he'll definitely be able to stop by Easthies' for a visit. He'll even set an alarm to wake up before noon—on his day off!

He'll wake up early, whip them up something for lunch—maybe he'll do brunch—and they can sit and chat, and maybe it won't be perfect given Easthies' condition, but it'll be something. At this point, it's all he can ask for. It's the perfect plan, Utowin thinks.

In the morning, his alarm wakes him from his sleep at half past nine. Ten minutes prior to his alarm going off, Easthies had sent a text saying they wouldn't be able to do brunch or lunch, that he has doctors to see and will be out most of the day. It's only then that Utowin realizes Easthies had never actually agreed upon meeting, Utowin's question of whether or not they'd be able to see each other going unanswered for the entire night.

It sours his mood instantly.

It shouldn't, and he knows it shouldn't, that this is nobody's fault, and that it's out of his hands. So what if the plans he made that were never technically finalized weren't going to come to fruition? That's just how life goes sometimes, it shouldn't be a big deal.

But it feels like one. Despite knowing all this, it hurts, just a little. Utowin won't let it ruin his day, however. He's awake now, so he might as well make the most of it.

He throws together something quick and easy to eat before heading to the gym. He does his usual sets of strength training, and only some light cardio—he's planning on hitting the fencing club he's been a member of since secondary school in the evening.

Once he's home he showers, shaves, and eats a proper (late) breakfast. He checks his socials, replies to texts he'd forgotten about and a couple of emails, tries to ignore the fact that Easthies has read but not replied to his question about going over sometime before he leaves for his club, and watches a single YouTube video of a gaming console restoration.

He finds that he's dreadfully bored, even after all of that. Maybe a bit agitated as well, but again, he tries to ignore it.

Perhaps a movie will take his mind off things.

He scrolls through one of the streaming services on the television in the sitting room, settling on an action film he hasn't seen before. The plot seems good, from what he read in the description.

The movie is fine, decent story and good action scenes, but Utowin can't seem to focus on it. He keeps glancing down at his phone in his lap. The glancing eventually turns into unlocking it and checking his messages. Nothing new. He watches for another fifteen minutes or so before he checks again. It becomes a cycle throughout the movie. By the time it's over, he's unable to recall the climax, nor can he remember exactly how it had ended.

Fuck.

He's never once had the thought before, but he's got to keep his mind off Easthies. At least for a little while. He'll do chores and run some errands, that should help.

He does his laundry, tidies his room, grabs lunch, and he even goes for a grocery run. He manages to complete all of these tasks without checking his messages (his phone being on do not disturb certainly helps). Utowin even goes on to prep dinner for the night, grinding the beef chuck he had bought earlier and storing it in the fridge for later.

It isn't until he's finished that he finally checks his messages, and…

…there's nothing from Easthies.

The same "read" status under his last text sits there, taunting him. He doesn't know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity. Whatever. It's nearly five, a good time to go to the fencing club. Blowing off some steam should help. Grabbing his gear, he leaves, resisting the urge to check his phone again.

At the club, he's typically able to free his mind from whatever it is that troubles him. The level of focus needed for the sport keeps his head clear of anything other than what he's there for.

For two years now, Utowin has been training solely in sabre, deciding that amongst the three disciplines, the high-intensity and aggressive nature of sabre was most alluring to him. He goes through his drills just fine, the fifteen minutes of warming up pass by just as quickly as they usually do.

It isn't until Utowin starts getting into bouts that problems begin to arise.

He loses the first, which, in all honesty is fair. It's been a week since he's last been here; he missed his session on Saturday since he was at the hospital. No big deal. The next one is his.

Apparently though, it isn't, because the second bout ends with Utowin scoring only four points. He'd made careless mistakes, rushing his attacks and granting his opponent the opportunity to capitalize on them, most of their points gained from counterattacks.

So he's a bit off his game, it won't last. He can come back from this.

His focus is what causes him to lose the third. Some touches against him early on in the bout had thrown him off, mentally. It's extremely unlike him, with where he's at with his training, to lose three bouts in a row to three different people, and especially from mistakes like these.

He's called over by a coach once he's off the strip.

"You're off your game tonight, Tordoff. It's very unusual for you," Renelayne, one of the club's female sabre coaches says to him as he approaches her.

"Yeah," he sighs, mask in hand, "didn't think missing one day would throw me off so badly," he laughs lightly, though there's a clear sense of embarrassment in his voice. He was hoping none of the coaches would take notice.

"Mm. Even so, with your skill level, you were making the sort of moves someone below you would, that doesn't happen from missing one day. I can tell your head's not fully in it, tonight. Am I right?"

If it were any other day, Utowin would be thankful for his coach's perceptiveness, because there'd be a guarantee of gaining actual advice or training. He knows what's got him messing up tonight, though, and it's no easy fix.

"Aye, you are. Just got a lot on my mind, lot's happened this week. I'll be in better shape come Saturday, though. For sure."

"However you come in Saturday is how you come in. There's no judgment here at the club. I just worry, is all."

"I appreciate that," Utowin states, making a start for the locker room. He speaks the truth, but he'd rather not let this conversation get any deeper than it needs to. Not that he believes Renelayne would handle his predicament with as little finesse as Atwert had, but the whole rehashing of it is dreadful at this point. "I don't think it's doing me any good to be here when I'm like this right now, though.

"But again, Rene, I do appreciate it, thank you," he says as he walks backwards, "I'll be in top shape Saturday, trust me!"

As disrespectful as it might come off, he's jogging out the door before his coach can get a proper goodbye out.

Changed and with his gear safely tucked into his bag, he decides to walk home instead of taking the tube to try and clear his head. Thirty or so minutes to himself, fencing bag in hand, wireless earbuds that send electronic melodies straight into his temporal lobe, and some more cardio. This is good for him.

The walk does help a bit, it turns out, because once he's home he's actually excited to cook dinner instead of dreading another task that needs completing on his day off.

Utowin rolls himself an actual joint, no tobacco this time, places it and his lighter on his dresser to come back to once he's done cooking, and heads back into the kitchen. He's made himself a beautiful burger, takes it and his perfectly rolled joint out onto the terrace to enjoy in the summer evening, a light breeze flitting through the air that cuts through the heat wonderfully. He ends up getting so stoned and lost in the deliciousness of his own creation that for a moment, he forgets about Easthies.

He doesn't think about Easthies as he finishes his dinner, or while he's washing the dishes, not even later as he's showering and after that as he converses with his flatmates about their vacation plans. It isn't until he's alone in his room, in bed, that he's reminded.

On Utowin's bedside table, along with his watch, some crumpled up receipts, and the wireless charger for his phone, sits a photo strip of himself and Easthies from a photo booth they went to years ago. He spots it as he sets his phone down on the circular charging pad and picks it up, looking at it carefully.

It was during a date, on their one-year anniversary, as Utowin recalls, that the photos were taken. It's a strip of three, each one different from the last.

The first is of the two posing together normally, the way one might for a portrait. Both are smiling at the camera, Utowin's usual toothy grin sitting in contrast to the polite, closed-mouth smile Easthies offers.

The second shows Utowin pressing a firm kiss to Easthies' cheek, catching the latter off guard as a genuine laugh is captured in the still image. Out of the three pictures, Utowin's always been most fond of this one for it's candidness alone.

The last shows Utowin facing sideways, similarly to the second, but with Easthies mirroring him. The two are caught sharing a kiss, Utowin holding Easthies' face in his hands. It's a bit hard to tell because of where his thumb lies, but Easthies is still smiling a bit during it.

Easthies rarely smiled before they had started dating. Occasionally Utowin would see it when it was just the two of them alone, after he would crack a stupid joke or do something else foolish on purpose, but it was still an atypical expression from the younger boy. That changed when they entered their relationship.

Much had stayed the same, of course it did; they still felt as though they were close friends, just with some other element involved.

That other element, the added promise of devotion that came with displays of love and affection layered on top of the already strong foundation of their friendship, had slowly but surely caused Easthies to unfurl from the uptight strictness of his ways, and eventually, bloom into the kind of person that would let his tenderness be caught on camera.

He's really come a long way.

Utowin continues to reminisce as he stares at the photos.

All of the experiences they've shared, the dates, the emotional heart-to-heart conversations, the celebrations and the losses, the love they've made, are all things Utowin would never wish to have with another person.

A string of thoughts cross his mind.

What if he doesn't want to be in a relationship anymore? What if he's decided he wants to break up, now…? What if that's the reason why he's been ignoring me?

He remembers the other day in the hospital, how Utowin had reluctantly explained that he had dropped out, how Easthies had absolutely nothing to say about it, pointedly ignored it, in fact.

Was he disappointed?

He shakes the thought off; he can't handle the possibility of such a thing.

This relationship isn't something he's willing to give up, and if he weren't still high he'd be banging on Vinanna's door right now demanding to speak to his boyfriend, to sort all of this out.

He is high though, very much so, as he's basically glued to the edge of his bed and has been for the last thirty minutes. So, he picks his phone back up and writes "don't let Eas break up with me" in his notes app, which he likely will have forgotten by the time he wakes up, and forces his body to lay fully on his mattress.

Tomorrow, he will have that talk with Easthies, no matter what.

After his shift the next day, Utowin shows up to Vinanna's home as promised to himself. He hadn't sent anything new to Easthies, and in turn, hadn't received any new messages from him. That dreaded four-letter word still sits below his last text.

After a good night's rest and a full day at his job, he's gained a little bit of clarity, no longer convinced the worst outcome will actually happen. He let his mind in his inebriated state get the better of him, he can admit. Only living with this uncertainty and lack of security for a few days shouldn't have sent him into a total spiral, but here he is.

It's still a possibility though, and a conversation about this lack of communication needs to be had regardless, so he tries to at least mentally prepare himself for it in the chance that it does end up happening.

It's late, but Vinanna should be working, or at least he hopes she is, so they should be able to have this conversation comfortably and with some much needed privacy.

He stands outside of the mews house nestled in a row of others that sit along a quiet cobblestone lane in Belgravia. He always feels out of place here, too ordinary of a person to be among the elites. He's not quite sure how Vinanna managed to obtain a house in such an area, even with her high rank in position among the police force to consider. He's heard rumors of Qifrey's father playing a part in the purchase, but, that's simply just a rumor. It's not the kind of business Utowin is willing to stick his nose in.

The shutters in the bow window on the ground floor are down, the lights off. The windows above it, in Vinanna's room, show no sign of life either. Easthies' room faces the back, so he's unable to tell if he's home, but he should be.

Utowin realizes belatedly that in his quest for a resolution to his problem, he's forgotten the possibility that something might actually be wrong.

What if Easthies hasn't been ignoring him on purpose? What if something's happened to him, what if the injury was worse than anticipated and he has fallen ill? What if he's actually back in the hospital and nobody's even bothered to tell him?

Fuck, he feels stupid for not even considering the option.

Without spending another second dwelling on the what ifs, he raps the door knocker three times, and waits. A minute passes, with nobody coming to answer. He lets another minute pass before knocking again.

He's about to dig into his pocket to pull out his phone and call Easthies when the ground floor light shines through the transom window. Seconds later, the door is being cautiously opened, until the long-haired young man sees who's standing there.

"Utowin?" Easthies asks, opening the door further, surprise and a bit of confusion laid across his features. He's in his sleepwear, Utowin wonders if he had woken him up.

"Yeah, uh, hey…" Utowin says, feeling awkward yet relieved to see that Easthies seems fine, unharmed and not unwell as far as he's able to tell. He wrings his hands nervously behind his back, suddenly feeling very small, young and like a dumb teenager, standing at Easthies' door like this.

"Why are you here? Is everything alright?" Easthies asks, the first question offending Utowin in a way that makes his stomach twist.

He has half a mind to accuse him outright of ignoring him, to project all of his fears and pain onto Easthies, but Utowin knows better. He is not cruel, as much as he wants to be, sometimes.

"You haven't been answering my texts, I was worried something might've happened…" is what he goes with instead, gaze lowering to the space between them.

"No, I.." the words die on Easthies' tongue, guilt now replacing the confusion, "You were worried?" he asks, voice small, laced in what Utowin thinks might be regret.

What a question.

"Of course I was worried! You're my boy—" he has to stop himself from finishing that sentence because he can't call Easthies that. Not when he isn't certain that's still what he is to Utowin.

It's too bad he let that first syllable slip, though, because it lingers in the air uncomfortably, the two now facing off in what feels like a silent staring contest.

Easthies relents first with a sigh, stepping aside as he opens the door wider, "Come in."

Once Utowin is inside, Easthies closes and locks the door behind them.

The house looks the same as it did the last time he had been here a few weeks ago. The entirety of the ground floor is decorated with items and furniture owned by Vinanna, a clear lack of influence from Easthies present. Her nephew only stays with her during the summer months now, so it makes sense.

Still, Utowin wishes Easthies' presence within the home could at least be sensed; the only space it's felt is in the tiny bedroom on the first floor that holds nothing but a single-sized bed frame and mattress, and small table beside it, the room too narrow for anything else. "At least there's a closet," Easthies had defended the first time Utowin had been inside.

For a house worth nearly two million quid, one would think it would offer adequately sized rooms.

Thankfully, Easthies doesn't seem to plan on making Utowin sit in his bedroom that resembles a prison cell, instead gesturing for Utowin to sit with him on the sofa. He does, and once again, silence falls over them.

"Sorry for showin' up, at this hour," Utowin says, breaking the quiet tension between them this time.

"Please, I am the one who owes you an apology, Utowin." Easthies is staring down at his hands that sit in his lap as he speaks, "I am sorry, I… I had, was—" he struggles with his words, with translating exactly what's on his mind into something comprehensible.

Easthies has always been the type to speak clearly and directly, blunt and unabashed with his words. He's highly skilled when it comes to debates, to giving instructions or orders, to giving explanations on a wide array of topics. He can command a room with ease, but he's always had trouble with putting his emotions into words. It has been the unfortunate cause of most of their fights, be they serious arguments or lover's spats.

Easthies stops and takes a moment to recollect himself, a single deep breath, in and out. It's a coping skill he'd learned during their time together, something to help him regain his composure instead of shutting down entirely. Utowin considers it a blessing.

Hold on. That wasn't something he did until well into our relationship, does that mean…?

Utowin doesn't comment on it, instead allows Easthies to go on upon seeing his lips part, trying again.

"I… have been having a difficult time. I am unsure as to why, exactly. I've not meant to ignore you, that was never my intention, Utowin. But…" Easthies glances up at Utowin, his gaze falling back to his hands just as quickly, "it feels as though it would be unfair to you, to… to have to interact with me in this state.

"I'm aware you've already told me I don't need to apologize for it, that I shouldn't feel bad, but I do. Important memories, details of our history, they don't exist to me. We are in a relationship that I have no memory of agreeing upon."

Utowin knows it needs to be said, to be acknowledged verbally instead of festering between them unspoken, but damn, is hearing it still a bitch. It's a bitter pill to swallow, one that makes him feel nauseous.

Easthies continues.

"I've been worried about hurting you. I thought that if I had more time, if I could avoid the issue enough to figure out a solution, that you could be spared. I realize now that in doing that, I've only caused the opposite."

Now, it's Utowin's turn to feel guilty.

For days, he had been selfishly fretting over the possibility that Easthies would leave him high and dry, thinking it was the only plausible explanation until the very last moment, only for Easthies to be stressing himself out in a pursuit to avoid hurting Utowin.

He's such an ass.

His eyes well up with tears that threaten to spill over, and he can't help but feel a bit pathetic about it, "Fuck—sorry, I… I didn't realize…" Even now, his misguided hurt is trying to take priority over what Easthies has gone through for him. It is that very realization that breaks the dam.

"Oh, Utowin," Easthies is right next to him before he knows it, soothing over the top of Utowin's hand with his own, "I truly am sorry for my poor communication these past few days, I should know better. I do, I do know better," he sighs, and Utowin wishes he could say anything else, tell Easthies it still isn't his fault, that he would forgive him for any wrongdoing, no matter it's size.

"I do seem to remember how much it pains me to see you cry, even if I do admire your strength."

To anyone else, the statement might seem confusing, contradictory depending on their views, but Utowin knows exactly what Easthies means when he says that. He recalls the conversation that took place last year, when he had first expressed the sentiment.

It had been two months since moving into his shared flat, and three since the fight he had with his father, the reason why he had moved in the first place.

Utowin had told his father about his desire to stop attending university, that it simply was not for him, but assured him he would find good work for himself. His father had not taken it well. As it often did, the disagreement turned into a screaming match, Utowin being called a disgrace, told that he spends too much time doing "useless" things like going to the fencing club. Eventually his father had taken the low blow of insulting him for his choice in romantic partner, claiming he was ashamed to have not only a failure but a queer for a son.

That was all it took for Utowin to leave, never once looking back.

With nowhere else to turn, he had stayed here, in this house, in the too-small bedroom that could barely fit one person comfortably while Easthies stayed at his dorm. A few weeks in, Vinanna had pointed him toward another member in the force, a man with a partner who had taken interest in renting out the spare bedroom in their flat. One week later, Utowin had moved in. Two months after that, he had caught wind of his father moving back to Yorkshire.

It broke him.

He remembers he had lain with Easthies on the night he received the news while his flatmates were away, a circumstance that had ended up being particularly charged, and once they were finished, for some inexplicable reason he had started sobbing.

It had startled Easthies, but of course it would; Utowin had never cried like that in front of him, his only glimpses being a few tears quickly wiped away and shrugged off after some particularly bad arguments with his father during his teens, but he was nearly inconsolable in that moment. They rode it out together, Easthies holding him the entire time, listening as Utowin had expressed his anger, resentment, and hurt. After he had settled down enough to, he apologized for his moment of weakness. He doesn't think he'll ever forget Easthies' words to him.

"Actually, I believe it takes strength to allow yourself to be vulnerable. Showing your pain is no easy feat; we resist it because we believe it's a sign of weakness, that it can only bring more pain, but in reality, a certain kind of fortitude is required to trust in oneself and the people around them to keep them safe. I could never see any sort of weakness in that, in fact, it's commendable."

It had turned into a bit of a monologue, in typical Easthies fashion, but Utowin could not have been more grateful for his boyfriend's reassurance in that moment.

It has stuck with him to this day, and in this moment it dawns on him: Easthies hadn't forgotten his words to Utowin.

"Wait," Utowin says, sniffling as he meets Easthies' eye, looking back at him just as intently, if not more, "you remember that? You remember what you said to me that night?"

Easthies nods and hums out his confirmation, raising a hand to give Utowin's cheek a gentle caress, "I haven't forgotten everything that's happened in the last few years, it seems. Yesterday, I decided to go through my laptop. I found copies of notes and coursework from previous terms, and even though I don't remember doing any of it, it's as if… I'm aware that I had done it. The notes were in my handwriting, there were research papers that I understood as my own. I know all of the work is mine."

It's a relief to hear, knowing Easthies can recognize the work he's put in for the last two years. The hope Utowin held that the incident wouldn't affect his education too badly not being completely shattered to pieces is certainly nice. He doesn't quite understand how it correlates to them, though.

When he expresses this, Easthies continues, "This is going to sound rather sentimental of me, but, even though I don't remember agreeing on starting a romantic relationship with you, I can… feel that it's correct, the two of us together. I can tell that it's real and something that's mine."

Tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding in his body for nearly a week dissappears immediately upon hearing that. It takes all of Utowin's willpower to keep himself composed, the relief washing over him in a wave big enough to take him out and drown him. It actually doesn't sound like a bad way to go out.

"That's so sappy," he teases, eyes still wet from the tears he shed. His hand meets the one that rests on his face, holding it while Easthies holds him.

Of course, this elicits a classic reaction from him, expression falling flat as he draws his hand away from Utowin. "I'm aware."

The ruse doesn't last, it never does, especially not when Utowin pulls him into a hug, and he hears the quiet whine-turned-laugh Easthies does whenever Utowin pulls something like this.

"So, so sappy. Didn't know you had it in you," he continues. Easthies just hums and returns the hug, and Utowin wishes they could stay like this forever. It's late though, and he's exhausted to the bone, and he's only now realizing he's probably keeping Easthies from getting proper rest.

He wonders if it would be inappropriate to ask to stay the night, or rather, to ask Easthies to go home with him. Realistically there's no way in hell he'd be willing to sleep here.

Easthies pulls back first, and it's hard for Utowin to let him go so soon, but he does. He opens his mouth to speak, until he notices the way Easthies looks at him. Red eyes dart between his green own, then down to his mouth for a fraction of a second, hardly noticeable, really.

But Utowin does notice.

He's about to ask "can I kiss you?" but Easthies beats him to the punch, again making the first move as the distance between them closes.

It feels just like many of their other kisses; a practiced back-and-forth exchange of lips and teeth and a little bit of tongue as Utowin begins to lose himself in it, just slightly. It's difficult to reel himself in when he feels like a parched man taking his first drink in days, but he manages, pulling away with a shaky breath.

"Holy shit. You still kiss the same… thank the heavens for muscle memory, eh?"

Easthies rolls his eyes, "Well I'm glad my competence hasn't regressed. It would be rather embarrassing to have to relearn how to kiss you."

"I would've taught you, y'know—ow!" Utowin rubs at his arm in mock distress where Easthies had just swatted at him. Seems his habit of deflection when he's flustered is still intact as well.

"You'd be doing no such thing, and certainly not at this hour. Are you aware of just how late it is? I could have been asleep."

Utowin wants to call bullshit, because Easthies rarely gets to bed before one in the morning, often opting to stay up and be productive in some manner, which has led Utowin to resort to begging him to sleep at a reasonable hour many times. He holds his hands up in surrender though, knowing it's sometimes easier to let someone as stubborn as him win.

"You're right, it's late and I came unannounced, I apologize, again."

He could just leave it at that, let Easthies' explanation and apology carry the weight of fixing this misunderstanding, but it would feel wrong to not acknowledge his own error of judgment. Utowin owes him that at least.

"Truth is, I… I was really scared. About us. And I shoulda just—just said somethin' but I was bein' a coward about it. I thought that maybe this was it for us, that we were gonna break up because…"

Because, despite everything we've been through, maybe, just maybe, after finding out where I've ended up, you'd realized I'm not actually an adequate partner. That I'm draggin' you down because I'm nothing but a failure. Just a college dropout with no prospects working a job that pays shit, barely managing to save enough money to get us our own place once you graduate while also taking care of my own expenses.

"…because maybe things hadn't turned out the way either of us were expecting. I'm not in school anymore, and… yeah."

Easthies looks away, contemplative in his expression, "You're right. They have not, in a way." He looks back, taking Utowin's hands in his.

"But I have no reason to judge you based on your choices. I do not view you differently, and although I don't remember, I highly doubt I had back then, either. You made the decision that felt most appropriate for your circumstances, I cannot fault you for that."

It is essentially the same sentiment Easthies had expressed last year, so realistically, Utowin shouldn't be surprised, but he is, even if just slightly. Easthies continues.

"From what I've gathered, you've been doing well at your job, and with your flatmates, and you are a good partner, which matters a great deal to me."

Utowin rubs the back of his neck, bashful over the praise he doesn't believe he deserves, "Could be doin' better at some of those things…"

"If that is the case, there are plans you can make and put into action, and I will gladly help you if need be, but Utowin," Easthies pauses with a sigh, "my point is this: I am happy with you. I was happy being your friend, and I believe that I am happy being your partner. You worry too much. Not only about your own capabilities but how your worth is tied in, which it is not."

It's difficult, but Utowin tries to sit with what he's just heard. Everything Easthies had said is true; things are going well for him, for them, all things considered. Could things be better? Of course, he's hardly satisfied with where he's at in life, but he's secure, at least for the time being, and circumstances always have the potential to change.

He's got a job that keeps a roof over his head, he's been able to continue with hobbies he once thought he'd have to give up. He has friends who care about him, a boyfriend who loves him, and he's trying.

Can that really be enough?

It is to Easthies. He's pretty sure it is to the rest of the people in his life. Why shouldn't it be enough to himself? The corner of his mouth rises, he can feel his peace of mind slowly returning at the realization that it can be, if he allows it.

"You're real good at that."

Easthies tilts his head, a small smile of his own mirroring Utowin's, "At what?"

"Reassuring me, getting me to keep my head on straight," he answers, a full-on grin fixed on his face now, "you always know just what to say to keep me from goin' astray. Wait, that rhymed. Bars."

Easthies furrows his brow and lets out a little chortle the way he usually does when Utowin uses slang he's puzzled at, yet amused by.

"I'm pleased to hear it. I do believe we've managed to remedy this quandary, then," he leans closer to peck Utowin on the lips, quick and chaste, "I like it best when we're on the same page."

"Aye, same here," he says in turn, before glancing over at the clock on the wall. He hadn't realized they'd spent nearly an hour talking.

"Damn, it's really late now, huh? I should let you get back to bed," Utowin says, stretching and starting to stand. Easthies captures his hand in his own.

"Actually, I was hoping you would stay? Vinanna has an air bed stored somewhere, maybe in one of the closets, but we could sleep down here."

Utowin considers the idea. They'd just have to move the coffee table out of the way, and he can tell it would take too much out of Easthies to go back to his.

"Doesn't Vinanna hate it when you don't let her know ahead of time when I'm coming over?"

"She does, but it won't be necessary; she's staying the night elsewhere. Besides, you came without notifying me first, if you recall."

Touché.

"Alright, yeah, got it. I'll stay," he pulls Easthies up with him, hauling him into a hug, "but only because you asked so nicely."

Carefully, the couple reorganizes the space, carrying the coffee table to another part of the room, Utowin moving on to push the sofa away a smidge from where they'll be sleeping while Easthies searches for the air bed. After it is blown up and the bedding is put on along with Easthies' pillows and blankets for the two of them are strewn about, he changes into his own clothes that Easthies had "borrowed" and they settle onto the air-filled makeshift mattress together.

Laying on their sides with limbs entwined, they face each other, darkness enshrouding them.

"Thank you for staying. I don't wish to dwell upon it, but again, I apologize." Easthies says quietly out into the small space between them, breaking their short-lived silence.

"Don't worry about it, baby," Utowin tells him, shifting closer, "Still don't think you need to be sorry, but I accept. You know already I'd forgive you for pretty much anything."

He yawns, hears Easthies let out a hum in response, like he's unsure Utowin means it.

"I would," Utowin continues, his exhaustion catching up to him in a flash, "and, I would've waited, too, I think. For you to remember us. Yeah, no matter how long, I would've waited…" his eyelids grow heavier with each breath, words slurring together in his weariness, "woulda waited for, forya…"

He's out like a light before he has the chance to catch the sounds of sniffling and a soft, but sad "thank you," beside him.

"Yeah, so anyway, that's what happened."

Qifrey and Olruggio stare at him in disbelief, the latter's mouth agape. Maybe Utowin should've kept in touch with them, kept them informed on Easthies' condition like he had told Qifrey he would after that night in the hospital. Well, life gets in the way sometimes, and it's not like he had heard from either of them in the past month anyway.

Except for the text Utowin had missed some days after the accident from Qifrey asking for an update, which Utowin had opened but forgot to reply, but he can't be blamed for losing track of which conversations need responding to when his boyfriend's physical and mental state (and Utowin's own emotional) had clearly been much more important.

"Yeah, again, sorry I uh, forgot to let you know. But to be fair, I assumed Eas woulda told you, Qifrey. Didn't you try to ask him?"

"I had tried to contact him, but he left all of my texts on read. I figured maybe he just didn't have the energy to explain the situation, but," Qifrey sighs, adjusting his glasses that had slid down the slope of his nose, "I suppose it makes sense now, knowing he must've thought bad blood still existed between us."

"I'm just glad the lad's alright, back to normal and whatnot" Olruggio comments, picking up his pint to take a drink from it.

Qifrey nods and Utowin hums in agreement, picking up his own glass, already a quarter way through his lager. Qifrey has been sipping on some fruity cocktail Utowin can't be arsed to remember the name of. He checks the time on his phone. He should be here any minute.

Somehow, their busy schedules had aligned and allowed a time for the usual group to get together, sans Luluci, who's still on holiday, and Alaira, who had flat out declined the offer in favor of taking a girl she had recently started talking to out for drinks elsewhere instead. The pub they're in would've been fine, Utowin thinks, but maybe it's too soon to be introducing a new love interest to an entire group of people anyway.

Just as Utowin had expected, in walks Easthies not a moment later, hair tied back in a low ponytail, strands that had escaped throughout the day framing his face in a way Utowin finds charming, his work clothes still on. He greets Olly and Qifrey with half hugs, then the quickest of pecks for Utowin before taking his seat beside him at their table.

"Apologies, I was held up by something minor after work and missed the tube on my way out. Had to wait for the next one."

"No worries, I'm glad you were able to make it," Qifrey expresses with sincerity, reaching out for his hand. Easthies takes it, squeezes it once as he wears a rare smile, small but noticeable.

The three of them catch him up, Utowin explaining that he had filled the couple in on everything that had happened, Easthies in turn apologizing for being distant. It's only been a little more than a week since his memories had returned, and in typical Easthies fashion, he wanted to avoid whatever sort of confrontation was awaiting him, negative or not. The couple are understanding, as expected from two people who have been able to offer nothing but utmost grace to whoever they come across. Surprisingly, Utowin finds himself striving to achieve the same.

"Well, why don't we order some food, yeah?" Olly asks, the group listing off their orders one by one to him. Once he's there, Qifrey excuses himself to use the restroom, leaving Utowin and Easthies to have a moment to themselves.

The arm that had been resting along the back of Easthies' chair raises, Utowin rubbing his lover's arm. Easthies looks at him with the same tired smile he always gives him when they meet after a shift.

"You alright?" Utowin asks, quiet enough for just Easthies to hear.

"Yes," Easthies answers, leaning into him, shoulder to shoulder, arms touching, "I'm glad I could make it. Glad to be here."

Utowin soaks in the warmth that radiates off of Easthies as he hums in thought, thumb stroking the cotton material of his shirt, hoping to soothe, hoping to consolidate. Together is what they should be, what feels right. Right now feels much like before, before the accident and uncertainty and fear for the future. It feels the same, maybe just a bit brighter.

"Yeah, I am too."