Chapter Text
Michael grew to hate the room he was stuck in, the same way he grew to hate the sound of Ray’s video games and his silence, the sound of people walking by making easy conversation, the greenery outside his window, everything.
But there are worse things.
Sure, the bland, washed-out looking food he was slowly transitioned to eating was boring and physiotherapy was boring, he hated the bright lights and his nurse was a stuck-up bitch. The nerve ends in his body almost always felt fried up, and he was ready to be able to go piss without falling over in pain halfway there. And yet the thought of leaving the hospital was next to unbearable.
Leaving would mean outside. And outside would mean –
“You know what’s fucked up?” Ray suddenly spoke one day, tentative and quiet. The Puerto Rican’s chair was closer to bedside than it had been when Michael had first woken up, but the brunet was still surprised. Ray had dark circles under his eyes like he was the one who almost died and he was wearing one of Ryan’s sweaters, one that Michael hasn’t seen him take off in days.
He knows they’ve been fighting.
“Yeah?” Michael didn’t know what to expect. It’s not like he’s fucking said anything except ‘good, you’re alive, I would’ve murdered you if you died’ since I started recovering.
“I had to reintroduce myself to Gavin.”
Oh, so we’re talking about it now. Michael squared his shoulders and sat up, attentive, breathing suddenly erratic at the mention of his name. “Explain.”
He needed the other boy to spell it out for him and Ray knew it.
“I had to reintroduce myself as Rye – Ryan’s boyfriend. ‘Cause he only really met me because he met you, it’s not like he knew who I was before all of this. So he didn’t remember who I was, either. I mean, Ryan and I had gotten together separately, but Gavin was sort of a part of it and we became friends over both of you being too emotionally stunted to admit that you lik–“
Michael must have looked stricken because Ray snapped his mouth shut almost immediately once he saw his face. “Oh my fuck, I’m sorry. Sorry, shit sorry, that was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have said anything. I just thought…“
His agitated voice fell into background noise, 3DS music still quietly blipping away.
And it was hard to tell what was worse, Michael cluing in on what the dark-haired boy was getting at, looking at the broken pieces, or Ray’s previous steadfast silence. (It was hard to tell between bad and worse a lot of the time these days.)
He fell back onto his pillow, the inside of his cheek bitten raw. He could taste blood.
Realistically, he could get why Ray didn’t say anything before this. After all, what could he have said?
By the way Michael, he didn’t come to visit because he doesn’t know who the fuck you are?
I had to pretend I never met him before either because we were both effectively erased?
We had to keep everyone out of your room in fear of him noticing and piecing it together and breaking down all over again about you dying, but you are still so, so loved?
Michael held back a choked, bitter laugh, hot tears stinging his eyes. “After Geoff told me about the amnesia thing, I laid in bed for the longest time. Goddamn amnesia, can you believe it? Like he was the one in a coma or something. Everything from the past year, all the dumb interactions with the prick, all of it – just gone. Like it never happened.”
He can almost sense Ray gearing up to force out some stupid phrase about how it still happened as long as you remember, but that was one conversation he desperately didn’t want to have. So he plowed on.
“Remember how I got these stupid Minecraft necklaces for Christmas?” Michael whispered, not even sure if the Puerto Rican could hear him. “After I woke up, I realized my neck was bare for the first time in fucking ages, but I– I figured that all my jewelry was ripped off during the crash.”
“Micha–“
“Apparently they just had to take everything off to operate,” he laughed, remembering. “Do you know what my attending handed to me when I asked about it, Ray? Want to guess?”
Ray sat stock-still, hands gripping his console as he shook his head almost imperceptibly.
“She handed me my fucking silver cross,” Michael hissed, whipping the chain clenched in his fist across the room and making the other boy flinch. It tinkled as it hit the wall, as if God was still mocking him. “Like a sick fucking joke, she gives me this goddamn cross after all of the shit with my parents and– and I lost the other necklace instead, that dumb diamond necklace that matched, I-I lost it just like I lost –“
He dissolved into tears.
The 3DS clattered to the floor.
Ray didn’t know how long he held Michael for, but his arms were numb and he was too awkward to know when to let go. So instead, he just knelt there on the bed, gripping the brunet’s frame tightly as he was wracked with sobs. And when Michael ran out of tears to cry, Ray wound up snuggled up in the bed with him.
It killed him to see his best friend like this, lonely and crumbling after all the considerable effort he put into not liking other people and being hard to befriend, meeting Gavin, and everything that came after that. With everyone abandoning him completely for the sake of the British boy.
He knew there was a point to this, but the Puerto Rican didn’t find it hard to go back to hating Gavin like he did at the start of the fall semester last year, no matter how insincere the feelings were now.
He scrunched his face up in distaste.
“I got us an apartment,” Ray muttered, changing the subject. Ah, his trembling subsided, jeez. “I’ve been living there alone, but once you get out of here it’ll just be the two of us, and it’s on the other side of town from Geoff and Griffon’s so you don’t have anything to worry about.”
Michael’s voice was raspy from crying when he replied, small hint of a frown on his freckled face. “What about you and Ryan?”
“It’s still a bit too soon for us to move in together. It’s okay, we discussed it,” Ray lied, feeling his stomach churn uncomfortably at the mention of the older man. He quashed the feeling, forcing a grin. “Besides, who else is going to take care of your ass? No homo.”
Michael laughed hoarsely and closed his eyes, hugging the Puerto Rican closer.
“Thanks for being here, Ray.”
“What are friends for?”
Meanwhile, Ryan wasn’t sure if he wanted to tear Ray’s skinny little figure right off of the hospital bed or punch a hole into the drywall of the hospital corridor, or both. He gritted his teeth, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he looked at the pair wrapped up in each other.
It was laughable, really, how calm he usually was until it came to the dark-haired boy.
Ray knows I am every bit as wrecked over this as anyone, he sighed internally as he turned on his heel and retreated, thinking better of going into Michael’s room. He pushed his messy, long hair back out of his face. Mind running through the disjointed conversations he’s had with his boyfriend over the past few months, the older man wasn’t even sure what was going on anymore.
He had even thought it would be better for Ray to move in with him, since everything fell through with Michael and Gavin’s accident, but he hadn’t expected the Puerto Rican to turn him down and live here, going so far as to keep a place of his own for the sake of the curly-haired boy lying in the hospital bed.
Without quite meaning to, Ryan viciously kicked a cot lying in the hallway and it rattled noisily as it rolled a foot forward.
“It was logical to worry for Gavin’s safety first,” he murmured the justification to himself, brow furrowing at his chest hurting. “He was a mess a year ago and he’s a mess now and we didn’t know if Michael was going to survive.” But this is exactly the type of reasoning that Ray can’t forgive.
Which is why Ray hasn’t spoken a word to anyone in the past while, not Geoff, not Jack, not anyone – not even me. Ryan rubbed his five-o’clock shadow, frustrated, suddenly wishing he could be Geoff, drinking himself into oblivion. Except even Geoff hasn’t been doing much of that lately.
He had a much bigger issue on his hands compared to Ryan’s measly angst over his boyfriend’s newfound priorities.
Yeah, the hardest part of all of this was deciding what to say and what to hold back, at least to Geoff, when any small thing could tip the boy he considered his adopted son into a complete mental breakdown all over again.
Gavin, head bleeding and refusing medical attention, screaming brokenly as Michael was wheeled into the OR for emergency surgery, was something that Geoff never wanted to experience ever again.
Gavin had endless questions about the accident, and it destroyed the older man to act nonchalant and twirl his moustache over the affair, responding vaguely with half-assed explanations like, “you were taking a cab alone” and “maybe you were going to meet a friend that day?” and “you just left in the morning so we don’t know what your plans were”, and sometimes just “shut up Gavin, just be glad you’re okay, alright?”
A small part of Geoff felt bad about this, but he thanked everything good in the world that Gavin lost his phone in the crash, along with every byte of evidence, every text and picture, that him and Michael had ever interacted.
Although, the British boy would sometimes sit idly by in the house, sprawled out on the couch. And that’s what worried Geoff and Griffon the most, because that’s when he would suddenly sit upright and burst out with a loaded question his shards of memories couldn’t explain, like –
“Did you guys give me this creeper necklace? I’ve racked my brain over it, but it’s a mystery, really.”
Nobody actually told the boy he had amnesia.
Geoff was vehemently against that decision, but the doctors insisted. Said it would make things worse if he was tipped off a figurative, mental cliff like that. Michael still in the hospital and all. But everyone knew Gavin was suspicious. Because even as he immediately reverted back to his old self, the partying, the drinking, the drugs – it still wasn’t a complete turn-around. He could vaguely remember a school year of not going out as much as he used to, except he couldn’t place why.
What the bloody hell did I do for a whole year?
And in some very small, more or less unknown recess in the sandy-haired boy’s mind, there still remained an indescribable something, like heartache except somehow worse, packaged as brown hair auburn in the light, an impossible amount of pale freckles, and a dimpled, rare smile.
Then, out of nowhere – respite.
(Or so they all thought.)
It came in the form of tattooed hands knocking on a closed door, blonde hair from a glance through the peephole mid-July. Griffon showed up to Ray and Michael’s place in the middle of a Call of Duty match, patiently waiting for them to finish the game before speaking. There was an unmistakable terse, suffocating tinge to the air as she sat.
She started with, “you look well,” as if they had been separated by an infallible barrier, by an ocean or thousands of miles of expanses of land, rather than a thirty-minute drive on the freeway.
Ray immediately bristled, setting the drink he had retrieved from the kitchen with a splash. “Yeah, you would’ve known that better if any of you cared enough to come visit–“
Michael smiled weakly and nudged him, signalling him to stop.
“Doing better,” he told her. “Thanks, Griffon. How…how is he?” The curly-haired boy tripped over his own words, Ray gripping his hand tightly, and Griffon realized that Michael still couldn’t even bring himself to say Gavin’s name. She nodded slowly, putting her hands in her lap.
“Actually, that’s what I came to talk to you about.”
Michael inhaled, chest burning. What could there possibly be to say?
“I’m sorry this has been so, so hard on you, Michael,” she said softly. “I don’t know if this is any small comfort, but Geoff is beside himself that he couldn’t really come by or keep in touch; he’d been really busy patching up the aftermath of the accident. He’s sorry. We all are.”
“I’m sure you are,” Ray snarled.
“Oh, and Ryan wanted me to tell you to stop ignoring his calls.” Griffon gave Ray an apologetic look, shrugging. “I can get why you’d hate all of us for this, but we needed to protec–“
“Get to the point,” the Puerto Rican cut her off, almost unrecognizable in this instance compared to the shy, awkward boy Griffon had hung out with in her home, discussing plans with Geoff, Jack and Ryan like it was a lifetime ago.
She bit her lip, realizing she still had nothing even close to resembling a plan over how to execute this talk.
“Now that we’re in the clear, that you’re discharged from the hospital –“
“You mean now that you all know for sure that he isn’t fucking dying?”
“Ray.”
No, don’t blame him, it does sound awful, Griffon thought, lips downturned at the corners. She took a breath before forging on.
“Now we’re sure you’re okay and fully recovered from your wounds, the factor of you dying has been eliminated. And since it’s been a few months, Gavin’s head wound has had enough time to heal and he’s been taking it slow, too; the effects of his concussion are gone now. We’ve gone back for regular check-ups, but this is the first week in a month that his doctor’s said anything differently.” Griffon leaned forwards, starting to look excited as she clasped Michael’s hands in hers, Ray jerking away.
“Michael, you can see Gavin again!”
What?
“Granted, I know it’ll be difficult and painful, but I think it’ll be worth it in the long run. You can be together again. We can start with little steps, like bringing you to the house, starting over with introductions and the like.” She paused in her spiel, but her eyes were still shining with hope. “Even though nothing can ever really be the same and it seems as though the entire year was reset, you can’t deny how profound your connection was, Michael. It’s something that goes without saying, and it’s obvious that you both loved each other to dea–“ Shit, wrong choice of words.
“You both loved each other – love each other. And don’t deny it. You were both better for knowing each other. Gavin can meet you again, and slowly, I’m sure that his memory will come back.”
Griffon pressed her lips together, nervous. I think that went okay. “Please, just think about it though, alright?” She made to get up, aware that Michael’s brown eyes were following her every move keenly. “It’s not like this has to be the end of the story for both of you.”
Michael’s heart raced as her words echoed in his head with a certain accent ringing behind them.
“Why are you talking like that? It’s not like this is the end of anything!”
“We’ll go to a hospital, and then…and then we’ll be alright, the doctors will patch us up, and then we’ll get an apartment together and do gross couple things, and graduate, and w-we can even get married –“
“N-no,” he said loudly, standing with a clatter, these things having been weighing on his mind for a while now.
Griffon looked startled. “S…sorry? Michael?”
“No,” Michael said, in a more normal tone this time. More firmly. More…less…something.
“Fuck, no.”
Because when you really, really thought about it, there was something about the sheer amount of coincidences that had to accumulate to place him in this very moment, in this exact place in time.
The drunken hook-ups back at NJIT. Being sorted into a room with Ray, and subsequently going out that one night to save Barbara, meeting Gavin instead. And everything else, not to mention the infinitesimally small choices Gavin must have made along the way on his part.
All to ensure that they ended up here, at this exact moment, with Gavin’s brain more messed up than it ever could have been otherwise, with Michael bearing a dark, jagged scar across his front and back, with Griffon standing in this small, dimly lit apartment in her leather jacket pleading for Michael to throw himself back into this after all the harm he had done.
For a moment, Michael’s breath caught in his throat and it didn’t come back up.
“Michael? What do you mean by no? Are you okay? You look like you’re going to be sick –“
What would have happened if Ray didn’t lose his keys that night? If Gavin hadn’t rolled over onto them, if he didn’t pick them up? If I arrived on time to Physics that day, didn’t have the nightmare about my homophobic parents? If Gavin decided to sit somewhere else? Or let me keep sleeping through the lecture like any other person would have?
His pulse escalated.
What if he wasn’t so damn nice to me, or if I didn’t take advantage of that? If he didn’t let himself get dragged along to meet my parents, if he wasn’t there that day, didn’t come to the hotel, if he wasn’t in the car –
The more Michael turned it over in his head, the more it dawned on him that their chance encounters had been always more or less due to his own fuck-ups and him tenaciously holding onto the idea of the boy that was everything he wished he could have been – and sheer, shining accident on Gavin’s part.
“Nothing’s different for Gavin,” Michael whispered, with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Ray told me. He’s still the same as always, isn’t he?” Nothing would be different for the British boy if he hadn’t met him, minus the completely fucking unnecessary, painful ordeal I put him through.
Ray’s eyes widened, unsure of how to interject himself in the midst of this sudden revelation. Abruptly, he looked like his old self again. Unsure, guilty over nothing. “That’s not exactly what I sai– “
“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong,” Griffon said, drawing closer to the frozen boy with arms extended. “You’re wrong. Michael, please talk to me. Because you know, deep down, that Gavin needs you like you need him –“
“He doesn’t need me,” Michael twisted away from her. “He might be fucked up, but I helped get him there.”
“You’re not to blame for his depression, Michael.”
“No, but that was always what he had and not who he was,” the brunet whispered, shaking as he stumbled back into the couch. “With it or without, Gavin would still be the sun. He would still be radiant.”
But me, I’m the anchor weighing him down. This would have never happened if he didn’t meet me. “I was the one who fucked up – if anything, all I ever did was snap at the guy and make him feel unwanted, even though he only ever obstinately hung on tighter.”
“What the fucking hell is your problem?”
“I fucking hate you.”
“Gavin fucking Free.”
Michael’s earliest words rushed to the forefront of his mind, blinding him. And all of a sudden, it was too much for him to bear to think about. He thought about the way Gavin looked in the car crash, dazed and looking like death with blood smeared through his hair, the way he was screaming, the fact that they never even got to kiss again.
Everything hurt. It hurt worse than his parents’ words, than the accident, than anything (but isn’t that what they say? That the truth hurts?) –
“I don’t deserve him.” Michael’s voice was frayed at the edges. Defeated.
Now, if Gavin were here, he would have told him that was ridiculous, of course. He would have told Michael to shut his mouth and to never talk about himself like that. That he loved Michael and none of this was his fault, that he was more than deserving of the British boy, and that everything would work out.
But he wasn’t there to say it, and Michael had already steeled his resolve by the time Ray or Griffon were even halfway through forming a coherent argument against his statement.
His eyes were hard when he looked up again, and nobody could have possibly predicted this happening. Not Geoff, who practically jumped for joy when the doctors gave them the news. Not Griffon, who offered to go tell the curly-haired boy the news in her boyfriend’s stead because he was too much of a happily crying mess to go, himself. Not Ryan. Not Jack. And certainly not Ray, who just wanted Michael to be okay, more than anything.
With a shake of his head of wild curls, Michael’s words were final, and they marked the end.
“I won’t see Gavin Free. He’s better off without me. Now get out.”
Exactly a week later, Ray woke up in the apartment alone.
There was a note stuck to the kitchen counter, and he would have snorted at how clichéd the gesture was if the situation was different. “Fucker,” he muttered instead, bolting out the door in nothing but boxers and a raggedy t-shirt. To which he was met with nothing but an empty hallway, not a soul in sight.
With a thud to his chest, Ray realized that Michael had left behind nearly all of his belongings.
The hastily written letter he held crumpled in his hand was penned in the boy’s distinctive scrawl.
It read,
I’m leaving.
Do yourself a favour and call Ryan, move in with him or something – you can’t afford this place, dumbass. You can hardly afford groceries. It’s been months and I’m sick of living with you in any case. That was a lie. My bad. Anyways, Jack, Geoff, Barbara, Ga and everyone else, they’re all great friends. I don’t want you to lose them because you kept choosing me over all of them. It was like a fuckin civil war went through our social circle with the accident, goddamn. You picked the losing side, just so that’s clear.
Oh yeah, and I washed Ryan’s sweater for you. Give it back to him. Give him a hug. Tell him you love him. And get back together, you fucks. Maybe I’ll see you around campus.
Sorry. Sorry for everything Thanks.
Sorry anyways.
Michael.