"Are you a relative?" the receptionist asked.
"I just told you he's my partner." He gritted his teeth and inhaled deeply several times. "He's got no immediate family. Just me and Matt." He took his phone from his pocket and quickly found a photo of the three of them together. A selfie, taken at the club they'd ended up at on Boxing Day night. Christ, they all looked so happy. They were happy. "Is this good enough for you?" He wiped his hand over his face, dislodging the fresh tears that had gathered on his lower lashes. "Just tell me he's okay."
"Take a seat, and I'll get someone to come and talk to you."
Seb turned back to Matt's mum. He felt helpless. They embraced each other again. The last time he'd hugged her was when her husband had died. It felt weird, but at the same time, he knew they both needed the comfort. Neither of them could lose Matt; it would destroy them both. He couldn't lose Connor, either.
"Any news?" Daniel asked, coming up behind him.
Seb shook his head and then cleared his throat, quickly introducing them to each other.
"We should sit down," Mrs Tuke said.
Reluctantly, Seb followed her to the black plastic chairs. The three of them sat, Seb in the middle. Matt's mum clutched his hand, squeezing so tightly he thought she might stop the blood flow.
They only had to wait a few minutes before a nurse approached them.
"Your Connor Black's partner?" she asked, smiling at him.
He nodded and sat up straight. "Is he okay?" He almost didn't want her to open her mouth and answer him. It was like Schrodinger's Cat: whilst he didn't know, he could believe that Connor was completely fine, not… dead. But as soon as she opened her mouth, the reality of his condition would be absolute.
"He suffered head, chest, and foot injuries in the collision," she told him. "He's sedated at the moment. But you can go and see him, if you'd like."
If he'd like? He stood, almost forgetting who he was with. He paused, glancing back at Mrs Tuke.
"I'll wait with Matt's mum for news," Daniel told him.
"Go," Mrs Tuke urged. A forced smile—more of a grimace really—crossed her lips. "It sounds like he's going to be okay. That's good."
But what about Matt?
"You'll come get me as soon as you hear anything?"
Daniel nodded. "I'll make sure you're told. Go."
Conscience alleviated, Seb followed the nurse through the casualty department to one of the curtained cubicles. She pulled the curtain aside for him to enter. Seb sucked in a breath. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of Connor, lying unconscious in the bed. He had a large cut on his forehead, which had been neatly stitched, but also several smaller cuts littering his face. There was a broad red burn from the seat belt and a dark, curving bruise from the steering wheel across his chest. His breathing sounded laboured, and he had on an oxygen mask to help. He was hooked up to an ECG machine, which showed his heartbeat was slow and steady. A temporary cast encased Connor's right foot.
"He's going to be okay?" Seb asked, turning to her. "He'll be okay?"
"We need to monitor him," she said softly. "But there’re no internal injuries, which is good. He might need surgery on his foot. The doctor will make a decision once he's seen the X-rays."
"Surgery?"
"To pin the bones back into place."
"Do you know what happened?"
She shook her head. "Only that it was a bad traffic accident. I don't have the details. We'll be moving him up to a ward as soon as there's space. You're welcome to stay with him until that happens. If it's still visiting hours, you can go up with him. I'll pop back in a little while to check his observations."
He nodded and let her go, waiting for her to pull the curtain back into place. He pulled an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair up to the bed and sat down, placing his hands on either side of Connor's.
"I'm here," he whispered. He gathered up Connor's hand and kissed it. "I'm not going anywhere."
Sobs shook his body and bowed his forehead to the bed. He'd never seen Connor looking so frail. Even knowing Connor would be okay couldn't remove the suffocating dread that had risen within him. For those few panicked moments, when he hadn't known what had happened to Connor, he'd known true fear. But he knew, beyond any doubt, that Connor and Matt were everything to him. Losing one of them would cause too big a part of him to wither and die.
"I wished for you." His voice was fragile, soft and broken. "Both of you. I won't let either of you go."
It seemed too cruel that the universe could answer the wish he'd made back at the campsite, only to rip one of his lovers away so quickly. As foolish as it was, he chose to believe it wouldn't happen, that he had the power to cling on to them both and prevent death from taking them.
He lifted his head and squeezed Connor's hand, wishing his lover would open his eyes. "I'm here," he repeated, his voice a little louder than before, hoping Connor could hear him. "I love you."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Connor
Connor felt like he was underwater. Lights penetrated his closed eyelids. Sounds reached his ears, but it seemed distant and far away, and he couldn't distinguish one noise from another. The only thing he was absolutely sure of was that someone was holding his hand. He struggled to open his eyes, but they seemed to be cemented shut. His throat ached as though he'd just tried to say something, but he couldn't be sure that he had. The hand clasping his squeezed. He felt something brush against his cheek, and then warm breath caressed his ear.
"I'm here, Connor," Seb whispered. "You're going to be okay."
It all came back, the slow-motion memories slamming into him as if he was back in the car. This time he was sure he'd made a sound: a guttural, mournful cry that seemed to fill the air around him. He felt hot tears squeezing out between his eyelids, stinging his skin as they cascaded down his cheeks. The salty moisture seemed to melt away the cement locking his eyelids together, and slowly, he was able to open them.
Seb was standing over him, his blue eyes dancing with tears of his own. He was smiling, but it was a weird, sad smile that struck painful fear into Connor's chest. Matt. Oh, God. Not Matt.
He pulled at the clear mask that was pressed over his nose and mouth. "Matt?" His voice rasped out of him as though he hadn't used it in days. Maybe he hadn't.
Sobs shook his body. He started to regain feeling and quickly wished he hadn't. Every part of him hurt, but his chest hurt more than anything. It hurt to cry and breathe and speak. His breaths became harsh, like an angry staccato rhythm.
"Calm down," Seb urged, pressing a button like his life depended on it.
He stroked Connor's forehead gently, which awakened a new prickling pain in his skull.
"Matt?" Connor repeated. He had to know. He didn't want Seb to keep anything from him or to sugarcoat the truth. He had to know.
"He had internal injuries and needed surgery," Seb said, his voice quiet and soothing. "He'll need more surgery once he's stronger for his…" His voice trailed off, and he lifted his fingers to his face. "He's in an induced coma at the moment." He guided the oxygen mask back to Connor's face. "You need this," he said. "You're pretty badly bashed up. Please calm down. You're both alive. That's all that matters."
Connor squeezed his eyes shut. Did that mean someone had died? The driver of the black car, perhaps? Or the occupants of another car who hadn't been able to do a damned thing to avoid the crash, any more than he had.
"I didn't have time," he whispered, his voice echoing beneath the mask. "There was nowhere I could go. I couldn't do anything."
"I know," Seb said. "I've spoken to the police. They've got some dash cam footage. It wasn't your fault, Connor. I never thought for a second it was."
Connor heard the whine of metal drawing across metal.
"He's awake," Seb said.
Connor managed to prise his eyes apart again. A nurse had joined them.
"A doctor will be along soon," she told him. "I'll just check your obs while I'm here."
He let her take his temperature and blood pressure. He watched as she read the trace from the ECG machine he was hooked up to. She checked the flow of oxygen into the mask he was wearing and the rate at which fluids were being administered to him via an IV drip. There was a second, smaller bag hanging beside the fluids.
"Are you in pain?" she asked.
He nodded, unable to express in words how much everything hurt.
She consulted his chart. "I can give you some morphine."
Connor glanced at Seb, who nodded. But he wasn't sure he wanted to take it. He felt like he needed his wits about him; for what, he wasn't sure.
"It will help you get some rest," the nurse said.
"You should," Seb said, stroking his forehead again. "I'll be here. I'm not going anywhere."
"What about Matt?"
"His mum's with him."
Connor squeezed his eyebrows together. "You should be too. He needs you."
"So do you."
"I'm sorry." It was all he could think to say as tears wracked his body again. He wasn't even sure what he was sorry for. The crash? For keeping Seb away from Matt? For crying?
Seb made soft, calming noises, but it didn't do much good. Connor couldn't get the memory of the crash out of his head or the look on Matt's face as the car had spun and slammed side on into the rear of the car in front of them. Or the way the glass had shattered and imploded, scattering around Matt as his head had been whipped to the side. He began to choke on his tears. Seb helped him to sit, and the nurse moved the mask so he could sip the water she gave him.
"He's got to be okay," he whispered. "I need him to be okay."
Seb wrapped his arm around Connor's shoulders. "He will be."
"Don't," Connor hissed. "Don't promise that. You don't know that." He wanted to slam his fist against the bed, but he didn't have the energy to lift it. He felt weak and helpless as a baby.
"He's stable," Seb said, his voice trembling. "And he's a fighter. So he will be okay. I believe it. You should too."
Seb needed him to believe it, Connor realised because hope was all his lover had to cling on to. Hope. It was a such a funny, fragile thing, but he grabbed it with both hands and held it tightly.
"I will." His throat clicked as he swallowed. "I do." He squeezed Seb's hand. "He'll be okay. We'll all be home before we know it."
It was weird. For all the years he'd been worried he was on a countdown to losing his mind and ending up in an early grave, he'd never even thought of the possibility that Matt or Seb would get cruelly ripped away from him in a heartbeat. Now that possibility was all too real. He was determined to use hope to keep the fear of losing Matt at bay. But he still needed to cry. His body needed the release, as though he could wash away the terrifying memories with tears.
He leaned against Seb's shoulder, letting the tears pour out until he wasn't capable of crying anymore. Not that he moved. He stayed where he was, wrapped up in Seb's comforting arms.
He must have dozed off. When he woke, he was lying down again. Seb was sitting beside him, also asleep, his head resting on the bed. Their hands were linked. The ward was dark, but Connor could hear nurses moving around and patients coughing and moving in their beds. He could hear the beep and whir of machinery and the catch of his breath beneath the oxygen mask.
He was by a window. There was a blind, but it hadn't been pulled down, giving him a clear view of the night sky. He was probably imagining it, but his stare caught hold of a white light streaking across the sky in an arc. A falling star. It had to be. Even if it was a figment of his pain-addled mind, it was still a manifestation of the hope he was desperately clinging on to.
"Please," he whispered. "I know you already gave me two wishes, but please, give me a third. Don't take Matt away from us. Please. Don't take him away."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Seb
Seb felt like he hadn't slept in days. He had napped in fits and starts, often by the side of Connor's bed, sometimes at Matt's when he'd been able to shoo Mrs Tuke off to a hotel room to get some sleep. She looked as awful as he felt: tired, grey, and gaunt.
The hospital had kept Matt in an induced coma whilst he regained enough strength to undergo a second, lengthy surgery to attempt to reconstruct the mess that had been made of the left side of his face. Seb had no idea how bad the damage was as dressings had hidden it from him and Mrs Tuke. The internal injuries had been the most pressing and worrying. Seb didn't care what Matt looked like, as long as he was alive. His spleen had been ruptured and had needed to be removed. One of his ribs had broken and punctured his lung, which had then collapsed.
After a few days, Connor was allowed to go with Seb to see Matt. Seb pushed him in a wheelchair, and they sat on either side of Matt's bed, each holding a hand. They talked about the plans they had for when they were all home: house hunting, TV series they had to catch up on, films that were out at the cinema they'd go to see, the new restaurant that had opened they should try, how they'd manage to fool around whilst Connor's foot was still in a pot.
Even now that he was on the road to recovery, Connor would have to use crutches for several more weeks, and once the cast had been removed, he'd need physical therapy. His foot was broken, the soft bones shattered by the brake pedal bucking up into it as he'd tried to slow and control the car during the accident. He'd needed surgery to pin the bones back together, just as the casualty nurse had warned.
A week after the accident, Matt was taken for his second round of surgery. Seb insisted that he, Connor, and Mrs Tuke eat something while they waited. The food in the hospital canteen was much better than he'd expected and cheap.
"They said they might discharge me in a couple of days," Connor said, pushing his food around his plate with his fork. He hadn't really eaten anything.
"That's wonderful," Mrs Tuke said, her voice as worn and quiet as Connor's.
"I don't want to go home."
There had been talk about transferring Connor to a more local hospital, but as it had been decided that Matt needed to stay put, Seb had fought that decision because he hadn't wanted to choose which of his lovers he could be closest to.
"I'll talk to the nurses," Seb said. "See if you can stay longer."
It was probably a thin hope. The bed would be needed for someone else, and there was no reason why Connor needed to stay in hospital anymore.
He rested his hand on Connor's knee, squeezing gently. "We'll figure something out."
"Stay at the hotel with us," Mrs Tuke suggested.
Connor grimaced. "I can't afford it."
Seb knew that was true enough. Connor's sick pay would run out long before he was able to return to work. He wouldn't be allowed back at the garage until his foot was completely healed.
"Don't worry about it," Seb said. "I've got to pay for a room anyway. Stay with me."
It would do them both good to leave the hospital each night and get some sleep. He knew Connor was having bad dreams about the crash and wanted to be able to hold him as he slept, and comfort him whenever nightmares seized him.
Connor stared at him.
"You don't have to be the strong one this time," Seb told him. "Let me look after you for a while, okay?" He wanted to say: like you let me take care of you in the bedroom. It would have lightened the atmosphere and reminded Connor that he was capable of letting someone else take control. He didn't think Connor would appreciate the comment in front of Mrs Tuke, so instead, he said, "You just worry about getting fit again."
Connor nodded slowly. "Okay."
"If the money's a problem, I can help," Mrs Tuke offered. She reached across the table and laid a hand over each of theirs. "It's the least I can do." Her eyes welled up with tears. "I'm sorry about the things I said at Christmas." Her words tumbled out wobbly and quickly. "It was wrong of me to judge you." She stared at each of them, her eyes begging them for forgiveness. "I can see how much you love each other and how much you love Matt. Thank you, both of you, for being here. I don
't know what I'd have done without you."
"We wouldn't be anywhere else," Seb told her.
"Literally, in my case," Connor added with the barest attempt at a chuckle.
His words made Mrs Tuke smile faintly. She checked her watch. "We should hear something soon."
"He'll be fine." Connor turned his hand over so he could hold hers. "This time tomorrow, he'll be awake and giving us all hell for crying over him."
Seb let out a thin, watery laugh. "You realise we'll never live this down?"
"Never." Connor's lips upturned into a fragile smile.
It felt good to laugh and even better to see Connor smile, however insubstantial it was. Connor's smile faded as a nurse approached them, his eyebrows rising and thatching together in apprehension. Seb's mouth felt dry, but he stood and smiled at the nurse despite his anxiety.
"The surgery went well," she told them. "Matt's in recovery at the moment, but we'll move him back to his room shortly."
"Then will you wake him up?" Mrs Tuke asked.
"The doctor thinks tomorrow," the nurse replied.
Seb's heart pattered with relief. He squeezed Connor's knee again. In response, Connor leaned towards him, resting his head on Seb's shoulder.
"We'll all be together again soon," Seb whispered. "He's going to be fine." For the first time since the accident, he actually believed it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Matt
"Well, I'm not going to be winning any beauty contests," Matt said, dropping the mirror onto his outstretched legs.
He wasn't sure what to feel. Anger? Relief? He felt both in equal parts. He'd lost a week of his life, but at least he was alive. His body hurt like hell, but at least he would walk away and not be stuck on crutches and in physical therapy like Connor. He'd lost the ability to move his left eye, but at least he could see.
"Wear a patch and tell everyone you're a pirate," Seb said. "Or that you survived a shark attack. You'll be the talk of every party."
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