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Author of 18 Stories |
Peter could hear Jason coughing. He shot a glance at him—he was sweating, shaking, pale…he tried to grab Nadia, but then all of a sudden Jason was down, and he was twitching. People were screaming. Peter was holding onto Jason, Jason’s head was in Peter’s lap, until the ambulance arrived. Peter looked at Nadia.
“Um, do you want…?”
“You can ride with him.” She said, bravely hiding her tears. “I’ll follow.”
Peter didn’t ask if she was sure, didn’t even thank her. He climbed in behind the EMTs and plunked down by Jason’s gurney, not hesitating to hold Jason’s hand. It was clammy. Peter swallowed hard.
“Jason…” He whispered. But Jason wasn’t awake to answer. Peter fought the tears struggling to fall. Why would Jason do this? Peter stroked a thumb across Jason’s face, across a little scratch on his cheek. He must have hit something when he’d fallen.
When they reached the hospital, nurses whisked Jason away and left Peter standing forlornly, still in his costume, in a crowded waiting room. It smelled like all hospitals, antiseptic and medicinal. Peter felt like his skin had been rubbed raw.
Nadia came in not too long after, filled out some forms. Neither of Jason’s parents were there, though Nadia called her mother. Peter’s mother came through the door and went straight to him.
“Peter, honey, sit down.” She took his hand and tried to lead him to a seat. He didn’t want to move. Jason had been alive when they’d wheeled him down the hall. If Peter moved even one foot, he knew—just knew—some sort of balance would be upset, and Jason would…
He stamped that thought out. But too late. Peter erupted into sobs, right there in the middle of the waiting room. Even as it happened, he was embarrassed, but he couldn’t stop the wails. His mother held him, led him to a chair, stroked his hair and his face and tried to quiet him. Eventually his crying eased up, just little sniffles now, and shuddering breaths. Claire was murmuring comforts in his ear, and he was so exhausted he didn’t fight to keep his eyelids up. They’d wake him if…if something happened.
“Jason?” Peter jerked awake, blinking a few times. His eyes were scratchy and dry from crying. He didn’t know how much time had passed. The waiting room had cleared out a bit. “Where’s Jason?”
“The doctor was here a little bit ago. He’s down the hall.”
“Is he…?”
“He’s awake. Nadia was with him for a little. He’s asking for you, Peter.” Claire’s eyes were a little misty, but she smiled softly and gave his hand a little squeeze. “Go on.”
Peter walked zombie-like down an impossibly long hallway. He realized he didn’t even know where he was going. He turned and looked back, toward his mother. She made a shooing motion and mouthed Jason’s room number. 110A.
Peter took a deep breath at the door. Strange, he thought. Jason’s just on the other side of the door. He was alive. He was awake. And he was asking for Peter. Peter took another shaky breath and opened the door. He almost shut it when he saw Jason.
He was pale, and his face looked clammy. His eyes were half-shut, like the lids were too heavy to open all the way. Worst of all were the IVs and the beeping machines. Those were for sick people. Peter felt his breathing start to go shallow. Jason smiled weakly.
“Peter.” His voice was soft. Peter’s body knew to move to Jason, even if his mind didn’t. His body always went to Jason. A chair was pushed over to the bed. He sank into it. Jason reached out a hand and Peter took it automatically.
“Jason…” Peter couldn’t say much more. His throat didn’t seem to be working.
“Peter? I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” He blinked, fast, a few times, trying not to cry. But his voice had that shake in it that meant he was crying. Peter squeezed his hand tighter.
“Jason…” He took a deep breath. “You were going to leave me.” It came out as an accusation. “For real. Forever. You said…but you were going to.”
“God, Peter, I’m sorry.” Jason couldn’t not cry, not with Peter looking at him like he’d kicked his dog or something. He’d never even thought about Peter’s side of it.
“Jason, why?” Peter choked out. His sniffled and bit his lip, scolding himself for being such a baby. He’d wanted to be strong.
“I thought you…I just didn’t know what to do. Everything was just so…so fucked up, Peter. Everything. Ivy, a kid…and then I thought I’d lost you. That was it. I could handle the other stuff, maybe, but when I didn’t have you, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“So it’s my fault?” Peter didn’t know why he was getting mad. Shouldn’t he be happy? Jason was lucky to be alive, and here Peter was bitching at him. Jason squeezed his eyes shut.
“No, it’s not your fault. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry.”
“I wish you’d quit saying that.”
“But I am.”
Peter let go of Jason’s hand and dropped his head to his hands. It was his fault, not Jason’s. If he hadn’t been so pushy, if he hadn’t been so stubborn, if he’d let Jason explain…
“I’m sorry.” He moaned. It was muffled because of his hands. He felt Jason’s hand go to his hair, rub down his neck, over to his chest.
“Peter? Peter, will you look at me?”
Peter did.
“I didn’t want to hurt you. I wanted to make things easier for you.”
“How could you think—”
“I was stupid. Okay. I was scared and desperate and you know I don’t react well in a crisis.”
“We’ve never been in a crisis. Until now.” Peter sounded bitter, though that was something to be grateful for. Jason smiled a little.
“Guess you’re right.” He was quiet for a minute, and Peter beat himself up some more. “I don’t blame you at all,” Jason said softly. “And I’m sorry if I made you worry.”
“Of course you made me worry!” Peter stood up, had to pace. “You were twitching, Jason, lying there on the ground, and then you stopped, and I thought…” Peter shuddered. Jason stretched out an arm for him, but all he could reach was Peter’s leg. He rested his hand there.
“I’m sorry.” He repeated. “I…” He bit his lip. “I love you.”
“God, Jason, I love you too.” Peter climbed onto the bed with Jason and kissed him, soft kisses, both of them crying and laughing, laughing with relief. Jason was alive, and they loved each other.
They cuddled up, as much as they could with Jason hooked up to those monitors, on that narrow bed. Jason’s head was resting on Peter’s shoulder, Peter’s head resting on Jason’s, hands entwined.
“I’m not going to Notre Dame.” Jason announced.
“Me neither.” Peter snorted.
Jason raised his head a little to look at Peter. “I want to go where you go.” Peter tightened his hold on Jason’s hand, his other arm making its way to Jason’s waist.
“You’re gonna have a kid to take care of.”
Jason’s face fell. “I don’t love Ivy.” His voice was quiet. “I’m not…I’m not going to marry her. I know I should, but I just can’t.”
Peter was quiet for a minute. “Can’t say I’m too heartbroken at that.” He said with a little laugh. Jason cracked a smile and buried his head in Peter’s chest.
“What am I going to do?” Jason asked. It was more of a wail. “I can’t be apart from you, Peter. Please. I have to be with you.” Peter didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. A lump the size of Texas had lodged in his throat. Jason misinterpreted the silence.
“Am I freaking you out? I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but I thought…because you said…”
“No,” Peter croaked. He laughed a little. “Jason, shut up. Forever you and I, remember? I fucking love you, of course you’re not freaking me out.” He sniffled. “You’re making me cry like a little girl.”
“Oh, good.” Jason sighed. “What do I do, Peter? What do I do?”
“What do we do,” Peter corrected. “We’re figuring this out together, Jason.”
Jason couldn’t help himself. He had to kiss Peter. But moving his head was too much of an effort. He settled for kissing Peter’s chest. It was a nice chest, after all. He was tired, Peter could tell. Peter twined his fingers through Jason’s hair, humming a little, dropped a kiss to Jason’s head.
“Sleep.” He said. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“I love you, Peter.” Jason said sleepily.
“I love you too, Jason.”