Chapter Text
"It was a beautiful ceremony."
"Oh, thank you so much for saying so," Olivine gushed, balancing a stack of gilded ceremonial bowls in his arms as he paused on his journey to the storage closet. "It was really such a pleasure to officiate again."
The elderly woman who complimented him was still dabbing tears from the corners of her eyes. She was a regular from days long past, before Olivine had inherited the church from his grandmother. "I never thought I'd see a wedding in here again," she breathed. "Especially with all these pews restored, and such a smart new paint job!"
She gestured to the chapel walls around them, and Olivine's heart warmed at her recognition. It wasn't as it used to be: it was better. It was built for him, after all. The chapel had been repainted in a pleasant, uplifting blue-gray, which caught the light of the stained glass windows and echoed it most beautifully. The pews that Quincy had so painstakingly restored were lacquered and smooth, and they'd attached innocuous sliders to the feet of each bench so they could be slid into whatever position suited each event.
"Well, I've had a lot of help," the priest beamed.
The woman slapped him on the shoulder conspiratorially, hard enough that he almost dropped the bowls and had to stumble to regain his hold.
"It's that smart-looking fella of yours, isn't it? I see him nipping at your heels no matter which way you're heading." She lowered her voice. "Easy on the eyes, whether he's going or coming," she added.
"Mildred," Olivine warned, grimacing against the rising blush on his cheeks. Her grin gained a devilish edge.
He could hardly blame her for noticing, and it wasn't that he was keeping his relationship with Quincy a secret - though he was forever struggling with open displays of affection, and Quincy wasn't very hands-on in public to begin with.
It was a different kind of intimacy that was obvious to regulars like Mildred: the attendant stares, the embarrassed glances, the knowing looks. The kind of intimacy that came with dating someone for over a year and settling into a rhythm, into the expectation of a kiss goodnight and kiss good morning. Olivine spent every night in Quincy's bed, at Quincy's apartment, and had done so for at least four months now.
(He still wouldn't say they 'lived together' because Quincy had never asked him to move in; Eiden took every opportunity to remind him that this was ridiculous.)
"No shame in being loved," Mildred hummed, interrupting his thoughts. "No one deserves it more than you, Father."
"That's very kind of you," Olivine murmured.
"Well, I'm off to the reception! Can't pass up free food and an open bar!" Mildred hiked her bag up on her shoulder and waved as she started toward the door. "I better see you on the dance floor later!"
"I'll do my best; just some cleaning up to take care of first," Olivine called after her with an earnest smile. He turned to continue his journey up the steps of the pulpit, past the ancient pipe organ, and back to the chapel's storage closet.
The door was shut tight, which was irksome. He tried to adjust the dishes in his arms to grip the handle, to no avail. He was about ready to use his foot to open the door when a large hand settled on the doorknob and twisted it open for him.
"Shouldn't you already be at the reception?" Quincy asked, raising a quizzical brow.
Olivine took a moment to admire the hulking blonde in his pale gray suit one more time. Olivine himself was in his ceremonial white robes, gilded with gold trim from head to toe, but Quincy looked absolutely stunning in his neatly-tailored formal attire. He'd had a hard time keeping his eyes off the man while he was officiating.
"I'm headed there next; I need to put the ceremonial dishes away first." Olivine nodded down at the ceramic bowls leaning against his chest. Quincy looked suspicious.
"I thought you'd planned to clean up tomorrow," Quincy prodded.
"Yes, but," Olivine started, struggling to formulate an explanation, "These dishes and the candelabras are so expensive, and they've got quite a lot of spiritual importance. I'd just hate for someone to jostle them about after I'm off. They were my grandmother's, you know."
Quincy sighed in resignation, but there was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. There was no way the significance of this whole affair was lost on him. "It's fine. We'll just be a little late."
Olivine shook his head as he disappeared around the corner. "No, you should go ahead! It's your friend's wedding, after all!"
"Coworker," Quincy corrected. Olivine privately rolled his eyes as he carefully re-boxed the dishes.
"Coworker, sure. Still, you were invited; I'm just here in the name of God and all that. The brides will miss you if you don't show up at the reception venue!" He placed the box in its place on the storage shelf, nudging an ancient step stool out of his way with his foot. "I saw Eiden milling about; catch a ride with him and Rei."
Quincy's arms were folded when Olivine emerged from the storage room. "Rei brought the bird, so everyone will be staring."
(Olivine had met Rei only a few months ago, after Rei returned from consulting abroad. He worked for the same company as Eiden and Quincy, and he was some type of big shot scientist in a field of physics that even Olivine couldn't grasp. Also, he had a bird named Father, which Definitely Wasn't Weird.)
Olivine sighed. "Well at least everyone will be too unsettled to try and strike up a conversation."
"I'm not much for parties," he grumbled.
This was his way of explaining he'd perform better at a social event with Olivine at his side, which was sweet, but unnecessary. Olivine patted him on the arm.
"Quincy, go. I don't have much left; I'll drive over as soon as I tidy up the last of the silver and the linens." The priest nodded toward Eiden. "He'll do all the talking, don't worry."
Quincy maintained his frown, but sighed and straightened up. "Alright, just be quick about it. Eiden's after Rei and they'll run off the second they get a chance."
He waved a hand to get Eiden's attention, and shot a parting glance back at Olivine as he headed for the exit. Olivine shooed him away with both hands.
"And watch yourself in the store room," Quincy called. "Some of the floorboards still need replacing. Don't put your foot through."
"That was one time!" Olivine yelled back, flicking his wrist dismissively as he moved to start gathering up candelabras.
The double-doors to the front of the chapel shut once more, and suddenly the room was very quiet. Olivine realized the last of the stragglers had left for the reception, and he paused to breathe in the stillness.
He'd been nervous about officiating a wedding again. When they'd first reopened the chapel it had served almost exclusively as a community space. Olivine had yet to establish any kind of regular service; he still wasn't quite ready. But when Eiden had boasted about the space to his and Quincy's coworker, who was desperate for a small and somewhat traditional ceremony, she and her soon-to-be-wife had come to visit the very next day. They immediately fell in love with the place, and - well, Olivine couldn't think of a reason not to let them have it.
The whole ordeal was much less unpleasant than he'd anticipated. He'd expected to be overwhelmed by the planning and the expectations, but in the end everyone was just happy to be here. Even better, he'd had the opportunity to bear witness to their joy and take part in consecrating it, and it felt better than he remembered.
Perhaps, he thought, things were different now that he came home to be loved at the end of every day. The thought was sticky-sweet, but he reveled in it nonetheless.
With a wistful sigh Olivine gathered the fifth and final candelabra and headed back to the storage room. Not for the first time that day, the thought of love reminded him that he and Quincy really needed to talk about the whole 'am I actually living here with you' matter. Quincy was content to the point of inertia, and coaxing him into a conversation about feelings was like trying to keep a cat in a bathtub.
He found the empty container for the candelabras on the floor and re-wrapped them in newspaper, stacking them gently in the clear plastic bin before looking for empty shelf space. The only spot he found was on the top shelf in the far corner, so he scooted the step stool back into place with his heel.
As he ascended the steps and balanced the bin against his chest, he thought about where he stood with Quincy. Eventually, they’d need t–
CRACK!
Olivine didn’t have time to shout on his way to the floor. When the leg of the stool snapped it sent him sideways in the blink of an eye, the bin of candelabras crashing down on top of him. He fell directly onto the rotted floorboards in the back corner, which caved three more inches down into the subfloor with the force of his impact. He heard a terrible snap below his knee where it caught against the concrete, and a second stabbing pain in his thigh nearly knocked him out.
He laid completely still for a long, terrible moment. Pain flooded him, and every muscle in his body was taut from the shock to his system. His mouth hung open as he swallowed a scream and rested his head against the floor.
When he finally managed to open his eyes and lift his head, he only had to glance down to know he wasn’t going to get up and walk away from this. His lower leg was twisted at an odd angle between the floor and the subfloor, and his thigh was quickly soaking red with blood. It looked like he’d caught his thigh on exposed rebar on the way down.
Damn it . He grit his teeth and lowered his head to the floor again. Damn. It. The embarrassment was almost as strong as the pain. Quincy had warned him, about this sort of accident specifically no less. Not to mention–
Damn it.
His hands shaking uncontrollably, Olivine fumbled to move his coat out of the way and grab his phone from his pocket. He unlocked it on the third try and swiped through his contacts, hesitating with his thumb over Quincy’s name before opting to call Eiden instead.
“Hey Olivine.” Eiden sounded like they’d just walked into the reception. Music and loud voices echoed in the background, and Eiden raised his voice to be heard. “What’s up?”
The priest sucked in a sharp breath to steel himself. "Eiden, listen, I need your help. I fell, in the store room, and– I, I’ve hurt my leg, can't get up. I just–”
“Holy shit, are you okay?!” Eiden’s shout made Olivine cringe. He didn’t want Quincy catching on.
“I’m fine, please don’t make a scene; I don’t want to throw a wrench in the celebration.” He pulled the phone away from his ear to take a deep, steadying breath. “I just need someone to help me get to an urgent care center, to get it wrapped up.”
“Do you want me to send Quincy back with the car? He hates this stuff anyway; I’m sure he–”
“N-no,” Olivine cut Eiden off. “Please, let me get it taken care of without bothering Quincy.”
Eiden didn’t say anything for a moment.
“Are you sure? He might be upset when he finds out you didn’t say something right away.”
Selfish , Olivine thought to himself. I’m being selfish, but…
“I know, but he warned me about this, and I went ahead and–”
“I don’t think he’s going to be upset that you fell.” Eiden’s voice was a little clearer now; he must’ve stepped outside. “So what? Accidents happen.”
“It’s not that. It’s…” A sharp pang of pain overtook him and he lost his breath. He put the phone down for a moment, but he could hear Eiden making concerned inquiries on the other end. When Olivine pulled himself together enough to put the phone back to his ear, Eiden’s tone was panicked.
“Olivine, I swear–”
“I’m here, sorry, just… dropped the phone,” he lied.
“Are you bleeding?”
Olivine glanced down at the pool forming under his thigh.
“... Yes, a bit. I… I think I hit something in the subfloor.”
Eiden sucked in a breath. “Can you move the leg at all?”
The priest didn’t have the will to try again. “No, I don’t think so.”
Eiden made a noise, not quite a sigh but something exasperated and anxious. “I’m calling an ambulance, man, I’m so sorry but–”
“Eiden, please, I–”
“Why are you being so weird about this?! I get that being self-sacrificing is your whole deal, but this is taking things too–”
“Eiden, I don’t have health insurance.”
That made Eiden stop talking for long enough that Olivine could interject with a stumbling explanation.
“Five months ago Quincy found out, and he was concerned, and he found something he wanted me to apply for right away, and I just– I didn’t prioritize it, I was...”
Eiden took a moment to process all that, but he sounded as adamant as ever when his voice reappeared. “Jesus, Olivine, I’ll pay for the ambulance, we’ll figure it out, but right now you’re bleeding on the floor and you can’t move. What the hell am I gonna do about that when I make it over there?”
The room was growing unsteady around him, and holding the phone to his ear was exhausting. Olivine closed his eyes and lowered the phone to the floor in front of his face, trying to breathe through the pain so that he could respond again. This time the pain won.
“Olivine?”
The priest heard his name called out in the ether three more times before he lost consciousness completely.
Eiden tore through the barn doors of the reception hall, trying not to body-check too many guests on his way to find Quincy. The hanging orange lights, soft piano music and bubbling joy created an uncanny atmosphere for the adrenaline pulsing through his veins.
Eiden's brain was abuzz with frustration, throwing blame around to mitigate his panic. How can such a smart guy be so absolutely thickheaded? On what planet would I need to explain to someone bleeding in a heap on the floor that they need to see a doc–
"Quincy!" he shouted, his eyes landing on the uncomfortable blonde in the corner beside Rei. Quincy was holding a beer; Rei was tossing appetizers over his shoulder to his owl.
Quincy's brow furrowed when he recognized Eiden's expression as serious. "What's wrong?"
"Olivine fell in the chapel; some kind of accident. He called me for help but he lost consciousness while we were talking." Eiden grimaced, shoving his hands in his pockets just to steady himself. "I've already called an ambulance to go pick him up, but we should head to the hospital and–"
"How long ago?" Quincy's expression was flat, alarmingly flat for someone in this situation. But Eiden could see the tension in his jaw.
"Got off the phone with ambulance dispatch two minutes ago."
"I'll drive you," Rei interjected, brushing off his hands. "It's too loud in here for Father, anyway." His expression, normally coy and carefree, was rather serious.
Quincy didn't acknowledge Rei or make eye contact with Eiden, but he set down his nearly-full beer and headed straight for the door. The party-goers shuffled quickly out of his way, and Eiden and Rei followed in his wake.
Eiden slid into the passenger seat of Rei's car and nearly collided with Father, who puffed out all his feathers and made an enormous fuss before Rei transferred him to the back beside Quincy.
Eiden snapped. "They're not going to let you bring a bird into the hospital. I'm not even sure why you brought him here."
"They specifically told me I could bring Father to the reception," Rei sniffed, as he passed a hunk of chicken from his pocket back to the owl - who looked equally offended at the accusation.
Eiden gave Rei an exasperated look. "Rei, I'm ninety-nine percent sure that when you asked if you could bring 'Father' to the reception with you, this wasn't what they had in mind."
Rei ignored Eiden in favor of finding the fastest route to the hospital. Eiden tried not to look back at Quincy too many times, but each time he did he hadn't moved. Their massive passenger had his hands bunched into fists and his eyes locked on the floor.
Eiden wondered what he was thinking about. Did he know Olivine was uninsured? Was he upset that Olivine didn't call him first?
"Quincy."
Two amber eyes looked up to meet Eiden's.
"It’s going to be okay," Eiden promised. He didn't know that, obviously, but that was just what you told people at times like this.
But Quincy's stare remained flat, and he looked back down at the floor without any acknowledgement.
Eiden couldn't think of anything else useful to say, so he turned back around in his seat and watched the night sky fly past them.
Quincy had changed in this last year. He probably hadn't noticed it himself, but he was living again; not just shuffling from day to day, not just existing. Eiden had known him long enough to tell the difference.
And it was going to be okay, right?
A steady, electronic beep set a tempo behind Olivine's eyes as he began to wake up, though he kept his eyes shut tight.
He experienced the series of x-rays, injections and bed adjustments like he was listening to a radio play. He guessed at what was going on whenever he heard something new, and he was helpless to prevent it all from happening.
It wasn't until he'd been laying still, for a long, long while, that he dared to lift his lids. All he saw was a white tile ceiling and fluorescent panel lighting, just as he'd expected. Just as he'd feared.
Something heavy weighed his leg down and the rest of him was covered with a blanket. He wanted to try and move the sheets to get a look at the damage, but he couldn't quite muster the strength.
Footsteps tapped into existence beside his bed. "Waking up, Mr. Olivine? How are you feeling?"
He blinked away moisture and found a man beside his bed in scrubs. Olivine gave a weak nod in acknowledgment, and the man seemed to understand his cue to continue.
"I'm your ER nurse. You didn't have an emergency contact listed, but there are some people here who'd like to see you. Quincy and Eiden?" His voice was soothing with its practiced gentleness. Olivine nodded his assent.
"Do we have your permission to provide one or both of them with information about your visit here today?" The kind man clicked his pen and blinked at him encouragingly.
"Yes, both," Olivine rasped, summoning the effort to reach for the clipboard. The nurse seemed pleased by the show of strength.
"Can I sit up, please?" Lying prone like this made him feel weak and vulnerable.
"Not yet; I'm sorry. We really need you not to move until the scans are back and a doctor looks at them." The man patted him on the arm and took the clipboard back. "Hang tight, I'll get your friends."
Olivine couldn't see well from where he was laying, but he took inventory of his own body as the fog lifted. He was hooked to an IV, and hanging beside the saline bag was an empty bag that might have contained blood. Had he needed a transfusion?
The heavy thing weighing his legs down was some sort of isolating mechanism that kept him very still. He registered that his head hurt from where he'd slammed into the floor, but that his right leg was essentially numb underneath all the metal and cloth holding it in place.
He saw movement outside the blue-green curtain to his sectioned-off portion of the ER. There was no door, but the curtain at least afforded him privacy between two white walls lined with posters and flyers about access to affordable health insurance. A flash of blonde and brown hair stacked at different heights told him who it was, and he tried to see their expressions or hear more clearly what the nurse was saying to them.
The curtained shhhkked open as the nurse pulled it aside for Quincy and Olivine to step inside. Both men were still in their formal attire, but Quincy had shed his jacket and Eiden's tie was undone. Eiden looked as obviously torn up about this as he always did when something was wrong, and he crossed the room immediately to squeeze Olivine's shoulder.
"Oh thank god you're awake, holy shit," Eiden gushed. "You scared me half to death, you know? You can't just pass out on the phone like that!" His tone was light, and he was obviously relieved when he thumbed a tear away from his left eye.
"Sorry," Olivine supplied unhelpfully, voice still soft and scratchy. His mouth was horribly dry.
"I'll go get another chair," the nurse offered, drawing the curtain closed again behind them.
Olivine caught sight of Quincy standing just inside the space with his hands shoved into his pockets. Both Olivine and Eiden seemed to wait for him to say something for a moment, before Eiden could no longer tolerate the awkward silence and interjected.
"Do you know how bad it is yet?" Eiden glanced down at the metal braces holding Olivine's right leg still.
Olivine shook his head. "Did they tell you anything? I only just woke up."
"The nurse said that they're waiting for the x-rays, but there's two injuries: one to your lower leg and one to your thigh. You needed a transfusion to deal with the damage to your thigh." Eiden made a face. "Rebar from the subfloor went pretty deep."
The sinking feeling in Olivine's stomach caught up with him again when he remembered he would be footing the bill for all of this. Eiden returned his grim expression, no doubt recalling the details of their conversation before the priest passed out.
"... did you tell him?" Olivine murmured to Eiden.
"No, I didn't, but please don't freak out about it, we'll–"
"Eiden." Quincy's deep voice made them both jolt, which made Olivine wince in pain. Both of them looked over as Quincy took a step forward. His expression was completely unreadable, which scared Olivine. "Can you give us a minute?"
Eiden looked at Olivine, who stared back with wide eyes but nodded subtly. Eiden patted him on the wrist before heading for the curtain. "Sure, of course."
When they were alone, Quincy picked up the chair in the corner and dragged it to Olivine's bedside. He dropped down into it and reached up, placing his heavy hand on Olivine's forehead and dragging it back through his hair. The gesture was immediately soothing, until Quincy spoke:
"Did you apply for the insurance?"
Olivine's face grew tight and he drew in a shuddering breath as he tried desperately not to cry. He would hold this together.
"No," he rasped. "I'm so sorry."
Quincy's flat expression didn't change, but up close Olivine could see that his features were tense, his eyes dark. "Going to cost a lot," he mumbled. He stroked his thumb against Olivine's temple and swept away a tear that dripped from the corner of his eye.
"I know. It's my fault, I'll manage somehow," Olivine assured him.
Quincy was staring at something other than his eyes – his ear, maybe, or a mark on his forehead.
"I'll help."
Olivine's chest grew unthinkably tighter. "No," he was quick to respond. "You can't clean up my mess."
"It was an accident," Quincy offered.
"Which would have been covered by my insurance if I'd listened to you," Olivine replied as evenly as he could.
Quincy shook his head lightly. "I'm going to help you pay for it," he repeated. "It's one ER visit; it won't bankrupt me."
"Quincy, we're not– you aren't on the hook for this kind of thing, it's not your–"
"–Excuse me, I'm so sorry, but this is urgent."
The nurse from earlier came rushing back in with three other staff members in tow. One of them was wearing a white coat and a tag that identified her as a physician. Someone guided Quincy up and away from Olivine so they could fiddle with his IV, and the doctor strode to the head of Olivine's bed. She greeted him with a soft clap on his shoulder.
"Sir, your scans revealed a piece of metal is lodged against a major artery in your upper thigh. I'm afraid we need to take you to surgery immediately, or you risk a rupture."
"S-surgery?" Olivine blurted, turning his head to meet Quincy's wide-eyed gaze. One of Quincy's hands was curled into a fist in front of his chest, frozen.
Olivine shook his head, trying to sound adamant. "I can't, I don't have insurance, I–"
"We'll figure all that out later. Your bill is less important than your life, okay? If we don't remove the metal, you'll bleed out." The doctor's hand swept away from his shoulder to allow another nurse access to his bedside. In seconds they had unplugged his monitoring equipment and unlocked the wheels on his bed.
What is this? Is this real?
Olivine's stream of consciousness moved at lightning speed as he tried to process what was happening. He'd hardly been to the doctor in a decade, let alone dragged into an operating room. He'd never been under anesthesia. Hell, he'd never broken a bone.
Quincy was still staring at him with a bewildered expression as they swept him away, but Eiden caught Olivine in the hallway to squeeze his hand.
"Hey, you stay strong okay?"
Olivine stared back and didn't respond before he lost sight of the brunette, their hands slipping apart.
Staying strong was what he always did. No cracks, no creases, no crying. He would stay strong for this too.
Somehow.