frowny x freckly // deeply troubled flannel x the sun's sweet sugar // wreo

Going through the piles of stuff was nothing like Wren thought it would be. Some of it was easier, but a lot of it was hard. A part of him wished Theo had just let him throw everything out, but there was something kind of nice about going through the boxes, even though watching someone else sort through his things made him twitchy.

It wasn’t that there was anything in the unit he didn’t want Theo to find. Maybe he’d find some of it surprising (like the rug—Wren wasn’t sure whether he should be insulted by Theo’s reaction or not), but there was nothing embarrassing or that he felt he had to hide. It was just… personal. Intimate in a way he wasn’t sure if he was ready for. The same kind of gnawing apprehension he’d felt at the prospect of Theo meeting his work friends, an uncomfortable stitching together of two parts of his life he’d never thought would meet.

He wondered what Theo would have made of him if they’d met in New York instead of back in Oregon. Even just a few months before he’d moved back. When he’d had a job, a five-year plan and his own apartment. It would have been… different. He couldn’t imagine a world where he wouldn’t like Theo, but last night had already demonstrated that maybe Theo wouldn’t have liked him.

It was almost a good thing that he didn’t have the luxury of time to dwell on that.

So, with the unpleasant thoughts shelved for the time being, they fell into a steady rhythm. This was the part which Wren found easy; it wasn’t as though he had any kind of attachment to most of the things in here, so deciding whether to keep or toss something was easy enough. Most of the things in the keep pile had been rescued by Theo, save for his rug and a few books he’d been gifted. Everything else he either didn’t want or wouldn’t need once he was back at his parents’.

He was going through a box labelled “Bedroom” (retrieved so far: an alarm clock Scotty had cleverly remembered to remove the batteries from, nail clippers, half-used deodorant, a notebook he’d scribbled down things he wanted to remember when he woke up in the middle of the night with an important thought, the copy of Capital in the Twenty-First Century he’d been reading on and off before the move, dental floss, condoms—almost all for the toss pile) when Theo addressed him, and he looked up to see him caressing one of his suits with such care he couldn’t help but grin.

“That one’s a sample,” he said. “Scotty got it for me.”

He watched Theo slip the jacket off the hanger and try it on, and turned back to his box, hiding a smile. It vanished as he mentioned job hunting—the mindless sorting had almost made him forget about how he’d torpedoed his career.

Then came Theo’s question, the second proposal of the trip. It came as a surprise, somehow, even though it shouldn’t have, even though he could tell, suddenly, that every amazing, awful moment this trip had been leading up to it. He looked down at their hands, intertwined, the sleeves of his jacket bunched up at Theo’s beautiful, delicate wrists, and he looked up at Theo’s face, expectant and smiling and sure, and he smiled too.

“Yes,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to Theo’s, “Yes, of course.”

He kissed him. It was perfect.

Theo was visibly flagging by the time they got back to the hotel and Wren packed him off to bed with the promise that he’d be fine entertaining himself for a few hours. He had a list of things he needed to do anyway, things he’d have to manage on his own.

Once he was sure Theo was asleep (not that it took very long—he sounded like he might have caught a cold), Wren settled down on the sofa, resting his back against one of the arms and tucking his feet under the blanket the cleaners had helpfully folded up while they’d been out. Pulling out his newly-repaired phone, he braced himself and dialled home.

Half of him was hoping there wouldn’t be anybody in, but he heard a click after the third ring.

“Hello?”

His mom’s voice was a little tinny, a little distorted, and a sense of deja-vu hit him, suddenly, like they’d had this conversation before.

“Hey, Mom. Sorry for not calling you sooner.”

Even across the bad line, he could hear her break into a smile. “Honey! That’s okay, I’m just glad to hear from you. How are you doing over there? It sounds like you’ve been busy.”

“Yeah, I guess so. We went to the storage unit today.”

“Oh, Wren. That must have been hard. I wish I could be there to help.”

There was no hint of reproach to her words, but he flinched anyway, remembering how he’d left without seeing his parents at all. If he had, if they’d had the discussion face-to-face, of course his mom would have asked if she wanted him to come. He would have refused the help, of course, but he hadn’t even given her the option of offering it.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Theo came with me. He was great.”

“I’m glad you’re not on your own, sweetie. It was really nice of him to fly over with you. How is he enjoying New York?”

Wren thought back over the past few turbulent days—of the play and seeing Ben, the drunken proposal, their fight the night before and making up this morning. He thought about Theo locking himself in the bathroom and the bruise swelling across his stomach, of his face after Wren had smashed his phone, but also about travelling back and forth across the city together, of sitting next to him in a taxi as he pointed out places he used to haunt, of him marvelling at Scotty’s studio and studying his suits.

“I hope so,” he said after a moment, unable to decide on a verdict.

“Well, I hope you are too,” said his mom. “Remember to look after yourself.”

“Mom,” he said. “We’re going to move in together. When we come back home. He asked me this afternoon.”

“Oh, honey. That’s great news. You two are serious, aren’t you?”

He wasn’t sure if he imagined a pause, or if she’d hesitated—if it was the line, or if she’d wanted to say something else—but he decided to ignore it.

“Yeah,” he said. “We are.”

They chatted for another quarter of an hour or so, mostly about seeing Scotty, complete with a brief, edited version of how Honey! had gone, and a quick rundown of what he’d decided to keep and get rid of, before saying their goodbyes. Wren got up and stretched, grabbed a coke from the minifridge, and moved over to the table, where he’d dumped his laptop that morning. There were still a few things he had to do before leaving which he’d been putting off, and he put them off for a bit longer to read the news, which depressed him enough that the chores seemed like a good alternative.

He called his subletter, who didn’t answer, and left a voicemail—he needed to know whether extending the lease for another three months would definitely be okay instead of probably okay—and his bank, who did, though it wasn’t good news. They’d told him to make an appointment, but there wasn’t one for another two weeks, when it would be too late, so it looked like he’d have to spend some time camped out in the branch hoping they could squeeze him in. He’d have to bring a book.

By then it was five p.m., Theo was still asleep and probably would be for another couple of hours, and Wren was feeling restless. He texted Scotty asking if he was free, but apparently there had been a costume-related emergency involving the Queen Bee’s cape that he had to deal with. His other friends would undoubtedly still be working. He was on his own. And that was okay.

After a moment’s thought, he bundled his laptop up into his backpack and put his shoes back on. He wrote a note for Theo just in case he did wake up, before slinging the bag over a shoulder and grabbing the key card to the room. Shutting the door softly behind him, he made his way down to the hotel’s lobby and into the courtyard, where he ordered another coke from the bar.

It wasn’t empty, but he found a table relatively easily, a little two-seater by one of the courtyard pillars. Settling into the wicker chair, he set his coke down and pulled out his laptop. He sat there for a moment. Took a deep breath. Opened up Google. Typed in: associate legal job portland OR.

Hit enter.

As the search results filled his screen, a little knot in his stomach loosened. For the first time this week, he thought that things might turn out okay.

The sun had just started to dip when he took the elevator back up to the room. Honestly, he felt excited. As though maybe having to leave his job had actually been a good thing. Maybe instead of a setback it was actually an opportunity. Portland wasn’t New York, but it didn’t have to be. It would be a different experience. A few years out might even be good for him.

Their suite was quiet, and he tried to be as silent as possible as he slipped off his shoes and dumped his bag near the front door before padding towards the bedroom. Theo still seemed to be out cold, burrowed under covers so deeply it looked like he’d built himself a nest. His hand was peeking out from under the blanket, curled against the pillow, and Wren took it, noticing he felt cold and a little clammy. Definitely sick. He made a note to run to a drugstore to get him something for it after dinner. He’d been hoping they could go out, but it looked like they’d have to order room service again.

“Theo?” he whispered, squeezing his hand, hoping to rouse him, but he didn’t stir. Wren chewed his lip thoughtfully. Maybe he should just let him sleep it off—

A loud buzzing noise startled him, and he jumped, swinging around to seek out the source. It was Theo’s phone, on the floor by the bedside table, vibrating with its screen lit up, the name of the caller just reading Mom (Cell). Wren picked up the phone, but it stopped ringing before he could decide whether or not to answer it. Theo’s notifications showed that she’d been trying to contact him for a while—six missed calls, two voicemails, and several texts asking him to call her back. He frowned, staring at the texts. Had something happened? Some kind of emergency, maybe?

Something clamped down on his arm and he jumped again, but it was just Theo—groggy but awake. The frown melted off Wren’s face as he smiled at his poor sick boyfriend and perched on the edge of the bed, cupping Theo’s cheek.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said. “You feeling better? I think your mom’s trying to get in touch with you. Do you want to call her back?”

Despite his encroaching illness, Theo found himself buzzing with a newfound sense of optimism.   

Wren was moving in with him. It was final. The relief he’d felt at Wren’s acceptance of his offer had been immediate and all consuming, and if he was being honest with himself, surprising. He hadn’t realized how worried he’d been about Wren changing his mind and staying in New York until Wren confirmed that he wasn’t, until the knot of anxiety that had resided in his gut for the last few months had finally been untangled. Wren’s kiss, his lips pressed to his in a perfect, silent moment, sealed it. They’d embraced in Wren’s storage unit, surrounded by the vestiges of his old life. Theo pressed his face into the crook of his neck, and he could feel Wren’s breath against his hair, a silent kiss pressed to the top of his head.

For a few heavenly hours, everything was perfect

 Up until the first text of the day from Lisa.

Theo. It’s been 3 days now since you’ve been home and I haven’t received so much as a single text from you. I would be worried if this wasn’t just absolutely typical behaviour from you.

He’d been sitting next to Wren, on their way back to the city. He shut his eyes tight, grimacing as he fumbled his phone back into his pocket. It was the fourth text he’d received from her since their arrival in the city, and the longer he put off responding, the harder it got to figure out what to say.

The erratic movements of the driver quickly made him nauseous, and very suddenly all of the discomforts of the morning – the painful, stiffness in his joints, the humid chill in the air paired with the absolute scorching dryness of his throat – seemed to culminate into one exceedingly undeniable conclusion: he was sick. So sick that even Wren noticed. So sick, in fact, that Theo lacked the strength to protest when Wren insisted he take a nap as soon as they got back to the hotel, first helping him peel off his sodden layers of clothing, and next fetching the pills Theo requested to make himself more comfortable. Wren filled up his glass of water, and helped lift up the heavy blankets while he crawled into bed. When he was bundled up and tucked in, he gave Wren a small smile, squeezing his hand rather than giving him a kiss. He didn’t need to get sick as well.

He let his touch linger, his fingers trailing against Wren’s as he pulled away. Theo wondered how different it would feel if Wren wore a ring, and if he would have time to buy one before they left the city.

It was only when Wren left, giving him a small smile before softly shutting the door, did Theo reach for his phone. The screen was too bright in the dimmed light of the bedroom, and he winced when he saw the latest message from his mother.

I haven’t seen my son in six months. Please don’t turn it into a year.

He turned the screen off, dropped the phone onto the bedside table, and buried his face into his pillow, wishing he wasn’t such a shitty person.   

He dreamt badly.

He dreamt of more texts from Lisa, ranging from her being unwell and simply trying to tell him, to her accusing him of lying, of being ungrateful, of being unloving and selfish. Then it was Wren, his eyes full of tears and his head in his hands, perched on the curb outside a bar. Instinctively he’d known it was his fault - he’d made him cry. I had a shitty day and it felt like you didn’t want me around. In what world would I move in with you?  In his dream he’d tried to say something to make it better, but his mouth hadn’t worked properly, and he’d had to watch helplessly as Wren walked out of his life.

In between dreaming, he woke up sweaty and uncomfortable – too warm, too claustrophobic. His chest hurt. His lower back was aching. In the darkness of the hotel room he’d tried heaving the duvet off his body. But it was too heavy. He was too weak. He was trapped. Helplessly, he slipped back into his rotation of fever dreams. He dreamt of walking into the Greenwich mansion, the first time in over a year, with his cane. And his limp. His mom’s expression little more than a featureless plane, but Roger’s – his dad’s –  turned down in disappointment. You didn’t take care of yourself. I knew you wouldn’t. I gave you all the resources in the world and yet you still let this happen.

He was cold, then. So cold that he was shivering. And after what seemed like an eternity he managed to wake up just enough to open his eyes. Darkness greeted him. The blankets had fallen away, and he groped blindly for them, managing to grasp the duvet and pull the folds over his head. He felt awful. Shame and guilt and the awful pain in his chest and the tightness of his throat. The heat made it hard to breathe. He dreamt even more, of frightening things. Of something coming from deep underground. Some kind of emergency was happening, like an earthquake or a bombing, something that shook the entire building to its core. He was falling out of bed and the ceiling was caving in on him, and –

Theo gasped, jerking awake. His hand shot out to grab hold of something – anything. It took him a few moments to recognize Wren, the mattress sinking a little around his weight.

His touch, which was dry and cool, grounded him, and Theo leaned into his hand. He settled back down into the pillow, trying to ease his racing heart. He closed his eyes at the greeting, the familiar, calming way Wren called him sleepyhead, feeling the unwelcome wetness of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. With a quick grimace he clumsily wiped them away. He was so glad he was here.

He wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming or not when Wren mentioned his Lisa trying to call – this still felt like a weirdly realistic continuation of a nightmare. But he’d run out of the energy he needed to maintain his web of non-truths.

“I don’t want to call her back,” he answered. And though he tried, his voice didn’t come out much louder than a hoarse whisper. He coughed, wincing tightly as a sharp pain stabbed through his chest, before shakily reaching out to take his phone from Wren and tuck it safely under the blankets. He wasn’t sure what Wren had read, or if he’d seen any of the texts from Lisa.

 “She thought she might see me this week, but I … My mom stresses me out. She isn’t like your mom. She can be … Mean, and controlling. And judgemental.”

Theo swallowed thickly, looking away. The last time he’d seen her, he’d been walking fine and had shown no other outward symptoms of his illness. But Lisa didn’t know just how far his MS had progressed in the last six months. Nobody from his old life knew, and judging from the glances at the theatre from Ben and his ilk, both pitying and curious, he didn’t need anyone else to know. Not right now. The only person who knew him – who loved him – for how he was now, was Wren. And he was sure that he was all he needed.

But he wasn’t sure how to tell Wren that he’d been lying to pretty much everyone in his life besides him. That he wasn’t ashamed of his disability, when all evidence pointed to the contrary.

“I’m not ready to see her,” Theo whispered, with a resoluteness that had sounded more convincing in his head. He slipped his hand into Wren’s, squeezing weakly.

He tried clearing his throat then, but what he’d meant to be a small cough turned into a fit. He winced at the pain in his chest, rolling onto his side as the coughs racked through him, stabbing into his lungs with each spasm. When it subsided, he lay there unmoving, breathing laboured.

“I’m not feeling all that well,” Theo admitted then, looking miserably up at Wren.

Wren fussed over him for a few minutes before running out to the pharmacy to fetch him cold drugs. When he came back into the room, he rubbed Vapo-Rub on his chest and ordered room service – herbal tea and a cold-pressed juice with carrot, lemon and ginger for Theo, and a sandwich for himself. He insisted on getting Theo something more substantial, and ordered a lemongrass soup, just in case. While they waited for dinner, Wren took care of his injection, choosing a sensitive but underused spot on the inside of his arm. He didn’t feel it at all.

From his nest underneath the blankets, Theo watched hazily as Wren turned on the television in their room. His meds were taking effect, and the cold drugs along with his supplementary painkillers served to ease his discomforts. When he asked Theo what he wanted to watch and he’d been unable to offer any sort of coherent opinion, he chose some rom-com from the early noughts Wren undoubtedly thought Theo would like (he’d chosen well). And when Wren finally settled down on the bed with him, Theo eased upright and rested his head on Wren’s chest. During the opening credits Wren told him about the rest of his evening, and that tomorrow he would be out for most of the day, doing this and that. That was okay, he’d said. He wouldn’t be much fun anyway.

It was eight o’clock when his phone began furiously buzzing. With a prolonged groan of frustration, Theo blindly fumbled for it, before lifting it to his face and angling the screen just out of Wren’s view. This time she’d only sent Theo a link leading to a Facebook page. Curious but unsuspecting, Theo clicked it, before wishing he hadn’t.

The link lead to Katie’s profile, where she’d posted a group picture from the night before of Wren, herself, Will and Angie, as well as Theo. A portion of his face had been cropped out, but she’d still decided to tag him in the picture. She’d also geotagged the picture as being taken in front of The Dead Rabbit, Manhattan

And his mother had seen it.

It was all she’d sent, and her silence was louder than anything. Quickly, he tapped out a reply:

lunch at the greenwich hotel. 11am?

A few minutes later, his phone buzzed.

I booked a table in the courtyard.

And then, a second later:

Wear a tie.

Waking up was miserable.

He’d slept badly, tormented by more terrible dreams. He’d woken up to Wren telling him he was heading out if that was okay, but that he’d be back before long. What seemed like hours later, he’d been roused by a gentle hand rubbing circles into his back. It had been Wren, applying the perfect amount of pressure into his sore muscles.  

Before he was left alone, again.

He spent the first five minutes awake hunched over in a coughing fit. After what felt like an eternity, he finally loosened up something thick and phlegmy, spitting the results into a tissue. He grimaced, before looking at what he’d coughed up. When he saw blood mixed with thick mucus, he tossed it into the garbage bin by the bed.

He stared at the closet, where Wren had carefully hung up all his clothes the first day they’d arrived while Theo had slept. A wave of guilt swept over him, and for the hundredth time in twelve hours, wondered if this counted as lying to him.

He knew it did. It was a grey area at best, and lying by omission at worst.

He shelved his guilt for the time being. He just needed to get through two hours of brunch. Wren had left for the bank at nine, so he had at least three hours to patch things up with Lisa. He tried to dress, too sore to change out of his cashmere sweats but just limber enough to squirm into a fresh white t-shirt and ease into a heavy wool cardigan. Tempted to only wear his slippers, he made the last minute decision to slip into his walking shoes.

Finally, he stood by the full length mirror by the front door, evaluating his appearance. The conclusion that he came to was that he looked like shit. No amount of running his shaking fingers through his hair erased the fact that he’d been lying in bed since the day before, and his face was pale and drawn out, with a red flush creeping up his neck. His freckles seemed ten shades darker, making his skin look mottled and unwell. His lips and the tip of his nose were chapped and sore looking. He was so congested he stood there slack jawed, breathing through his mouth. Already an unpleasant dampness was collecting at his armpits and lower back, yet somehow he was still cold.  

And then he stared at his cane, frowning. Experimentally, he took a few wobbly steps without it, hand shooting out every other moment to touch the wall. And after five distressing minutes of trying to convince himself he’d be fine without it, grabbed it, and left to face the music.

Theo had planned to arrive at the table twenty minutes early. She wouldn’t be able to see him walk, or comment on anything besides his appearance. They’d make up, she would leave, and Theo could go back to bed.

Unfortunately, he was his mother’s son. And as he was lead out by the hostess to their table in the courtyard, Theo found that she was already there, sitting with her legs crossed at the knee, typing something into her phone.

Lisa Ronstadt, dressed in an ivory coloured silk blouse and fitted knee length skirt, turned to face him. Her hair, cut in a blunt bob right at the shoulder, was knife straight and perfectly blonde. Her makeup was as tidy as ever, thick lashes primed black, skin airbrushed to perfection. She stared at him, measuring his appearance and every movement, before standing to greet him, Theo watched in slow motion as the carefully crafted expression he knew she only reserved for negotiations cracked, like a dam in a flood.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Theo,” she said, stepping forward to embrace him. He let her come close enough for a hug, the top of her head only just coming up to his chin even in her three inch heels, but pulled away when she tried to kiss his cheek.

“I’m not well. I must have caught a cold,” he offered as explanation, hoping she’d accept it as the reason for not calling. For his appearance. Her eyes never left his cane, even as they separated to sit.

He flipped open the menu, pretending to consider its contents as if the thought of eating didn’t make him feel nauseous. He needn’t have bothered, however, as almost immediately a waiter burst through the wrought iron doors, whisking through the busy courtyard and gracefully setting two delicate champagne flutes before himself and his mother. Theo grimaced, setting his jaw as he looked up to meet her eyes.

“I really don’t feel like drinking,” he said. He hadn’t yet spoken to anybody today, and his voice was hoarse and whispery. It didn’t match the slow broiling pit of frustration in his belly.

“But it’s a celebration. I haven’t seen you since March, after all. I thought it a good time to finally catch up,” said Lisa. After a moment, she smiled. “The orange juice will do you good.”

She lifted her mimosa, and Theo grimaced tightly, following suit. Her eyes never left the way his hand trembled, and he only took a sip when she pursed her lips, looking for a way to end the tense moment. It burned his throat.

He decided then that he didn’t want to spend the entire lunch engaging in a very Ronstadt-like dance of passive aggressiveness, so he bit the bullet, and went for the direct approach.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Wren being in town. I didn’t think it was a good time for you to meet, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. So, I’m sorry that you found out the way that you did. I didn’t mean for it to happen that way and I don’t want you to think badly of him.”

She snorted, setting the champagne flute onto the table a little too forcefully. The contents sloshed around the rim, dripping slowly down the side of the glass. He realized too late that he’d broken the rule of benign chit-chat before tip-toeing around the real shit.

“I’m not mad about Wren. Your boyfriend. Whatever he is to you,” she said dismissively, though her tone suggested otherwise. Theo opened his mouth to protest, but she raised a finger, cutting him off. “I’m mad that ever since you moved away any details I’ve been able to glean about your life I’ve had to squeeze out of you. Don’t you think I’ve worried?”

“I’ve been fine,” he said. She stared at him, like she thought he was full of shit. He felt something flare inside of him,

“Honestly,” he insisted. “Things have been going well. I finally feel like… I have something really good with someone.”

“Yet you hide him from me. From your family,” She countered.

“And how long has this been going on?” She asked, when Theo took more than a second to reply, gesturing towards his cane. It was happening, and he could feel heat rising in his face. He tried to reply, but she interrupted. “How long have you needed a cane to walk? How long has it been since you’ve started dragging your damn foot on the ground?” She demanded.

Theo bristled, grasping his cane and pulling it closer.  

“It’s not the end of the world. I’m happy. That’s what’s supposed to matter,” he said.  

“You’re happy. In Oregon. Working at a no-name firm part time while you could be doing better things.”

“So finally it comes out.”

“Theo, it needs to be said. The job is a symptom. Have you been going to physical therapy? For fuck’s sake, you’ve always thought yourself smarter than every medical professional out there but you need to be going. They could have helped – they could have stopped this from happening.”

His throat was closing up. He didn’t want to cry, but he was frustrated and angry and sick. He couldn’t deal with her when he wasn’t on the top of his game and knew now agreeing to see her had been a mistake.

He moved to stand, but she was faster. For a brief, blessed moment he thought she leaving, until she was holding out her arms, rigid, but welcoming. And walking towards them, was Wren, the expression on his face unreadable.

He felt cold. He felt like he was going to be sick.

“There he is! The very man my son has tried so hard to keep me from meeting.”

Wren had hoped that he’d had trouble getting to sleep the night before due to the circumstances, but he found himself wide awake again that night, long after Theo had dozed off. In the dark, against the backdrop of traffic and the hum of the air conditioning, thoughts he’d managed to avoid all evening crept back out of the shadows, circling his mind as he shut his eyes and tried hard to think of anything else. The one mercy was that this time, at least, they were directed outwards.

Part of it was the fact that their time in New York was running out, and it looked as though he’d be leaving with some work left unfinished. With any luck he’d be able to see the bank tomorrow, get his account transferred over to the nearest branch in Portland, but he still hadn’t heard from his sub-letter and he’d have to make a decision over what to do if it came down to a worst-case scenario—just cover the remaining three months and eat most of his savings, or take a risk on sub-letting to someone he wouldn’t have an opportunity to meet. Neither option happened to be great.

Another part was Theo, who seemed to be getting worse, despite the rest and drugs and their quiet evening. Normally a heavy sleeper, it was clear that he wasn’t getting a great night either, not quite tossing and turning but almost there, his breath ragged and uneven. When Wren touched his forehead with the back of his hand, gently so as to not disturb him, he was hot, hotter than normal, and still clammy. Their flight was Friday afternoon, and if he didn’t start to feel better, he wasn’t sure if he’d be okay to fly—which, admittedly, might solve some of his problems, but not at a price he wanted to pay.

Lying there, listening to the rattle of Theo’s chest, he realised he was excited to let New York go. For the first time in years, he wanted to travel back to Oregon. To Cannon Beach. To Theo’s house on the hill. He wanted to move—to pack up and find new places for his things in and amongst Theo’s. To hang his suits up in Theo’s closet and lay his rug down in front of the fireplace. His books would go on the shelf with Theo’s, his blankets on the end of the bed, piled into a heap.

It wasn’t even just things. He’d find a job in Portland, or maybe even Astoria, where he could work remotely half the week. They’d spend their evenings together, on the couch or in bed, always touching, tangled together. Every Sunday they’d see his parents for the weekly family dinner. In summer they could explore the coast, drive up and down the Pacific Highway. Maybe they could even go sailing. He knew Theo liked boats.

A week ago, he’d thought his life was over. But now, it was so easy to picture his future. Their future. He closed his eyes, breathed out, rested the heel of his hand on Theo’s hip.

Things would be okay. Even if every day from here on out was just like this one, they would be okay.

Wren left the suite at seven thirty, after taking a quick shower and making sure Theo was still alive. His breathing hadn’t gotten any better, and he rubbed his back for a few minutes in an attempt to ease it. They’d already discussed his plans the evening before, but he wrote him a note to remind him he’d gone to the bank and that he should call or text if he needed anything—partly as a reminder, partly because being able to pen the words I love you filled him with a great deal of satisfaction.

He grabbed a book before he left (a copy of A Separate Peace he’d reclaimed from the storage locker, not yet started), before heading for the subway. The bank didn’t open until nine, but he figured he could get some breakfast and make it there early to make sure he was first in line. Hopefully that would mean he’d get to see somebody sooner rather than later—he didn’t like the idea of leaving Theo alone on his own when he was so sick. With any luck he’d get back before he even woke up.

He’d expected his pseudo-commute to feel weird, like it had on Tuesday, if not worse. After all, this might have been his last crowded, uncomfortable subway trip for a while, if not forever. He’d braced himself for the dread, the tide of displacement he’d struggled with so hard earlier in the week, but… today, it didn’t come. Not really. Maybe it was because he’d dressed up a little today (still jeans, but he’d grabbed a shirt and his suit jacket), or maybe because it was a little later than he would normally have left for work. Or maybe he was just getting used to the idea of putting all of this behind him. He’d still woken up with his optimism from the night before, his excitement at starting a new chapter of his life. Maybe he really was ready to go.

An hour later he was finishing up an egg sandwich and an Americano at a café around the corner from his bank when his phone buzzed with a text message. Frowning, he pulled his phone out to read it, worried it was Theo. Thankfully, it was only Katie, with a proposal.

Katie
Wren! I know it’s short notice, but do you want to grab lunch this afternoon?

Chewing on his sandwich, Wren mulled it over for a moment before typing out a response.

Wren
Hey, I’m really sorry but I can’t. I’m going to the bank and I’m not sure when I’ll be finished, and Theo’s really sick so I should just go straight home afterwards anyway. Sorry! 🙁

Her reply came through a couple of minutes later.

Katie
Oh, that’s OK! Good luck at the bank and I hope Theo feels better 🙂

He thanked her, then stuffed his phone back in his pocket. Even though she hadn’t sounded upset, and even though he hadn’t said anything untruthful, he felt a little like he’d let her down. He knew he was just being dumb, but maybe it would be nice to ask her to come over to the hotel for dinner instead, even if they just ended up crashing in the suite. He made a mental note to ask Theo what he thought when he got back to the hotel. It was time to hit the bank.

The good news was that he only ended up waiting for about an hour. The bad news was pretty much everything else. Wren left the bank in a foul mood.

“They said they couldn’t take my driver’s license because it’s from Oregon, but they wouldn’t take my state ID either,” he fumed.

“Mmmm.” Scotty sounded half-asleep down the other end of the phone, and Wren wasn’t sure if he was listening, but he carried on anyway.

“They said I’d have to bring in my passport and when I told them I don’t have one they said I should just get one. They’re like $150. I shouldn’t have to pay $150 and wait weeks and weeks to be able to transfer my bank account to another branch.”

“Maybe you should tweet at them,” suggested Scotty, totally disrupting his train of thought.

“I’m not going to tweet at them,” he said, deflating. “I guess I’ll have to open a new account and transfer the balance over or something. It’s just a pain in the ass. I don’t feel as though I’ve gotten anything done.”

Scotty yawned. “Hey, man, you came to the opening night of my show. That’s worth like, a thousand trips to the bank.”

Wren couldn’t help but smile, despite himself. “I guess. Hey, do you want to come over to the hotel for dinner? Theo’s sick so we probably can’t go out but it would be nice to see you before we fly back tomorrow.”

“I think I can free up some time in my schedule,” said Scotty. “Now you should run on home. Check on your man.”

“Let you go back to bed,” said Wren. “Got it.”

Scotty laughed and hung up, and Wren shook his head before stowing his phone and heading back for the subway. He might have wasted his morning, but he wouldn’t waste the rest of his day. It was time to go back to the hotel and figure out how to spend his last day in New York.

He arrived at the hotel just after eleven. No texts from Theo, so he might well still have been asleep, but hopefully he would be okay if Wren woke him up—he should probably have something to eat or drink and take his cold medication. After that he could go back to bed if he wanted to.

Wren hovered by the elevators for a moment before making a last-minute decision, heading for the Courtyard instead. He meant to ask the bar if someone could bring up some hot tea to the room, but he got halfway there before spying something out of the corner of his eye that stopped him in his tracks.

Theo, sat at a table, with… a woman?

He took a step towards them, sure he must be mistaken. But no, it was definitely Theo—while he could only see the back of his head, he was hunched in his seat, looking uncomfortable and miserable. The woman was older, and at a closer look, looked so much like him that she had to be his mom. Remembering the texts yesterday, Wren frowned. Had she dropped in unexpectedly?

He took another couple of steps forward, unsure if he should interrupt, when he made eye contact with her. Before he could decide what to do, she stood up and held her arms open, and he had no choice but to join them, entering into her embrace.

“Mrs Ronstadt,” he said, “I’m so sorry I almost missed you. Theo might have mentioned, but I had an appointment with my bank.”

He glanced at Theo, then, gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before pulling away briefly to grab a chair from a nearby table. Positioning it next to Theo’s, he sat down and reached for his hand, placing his book on the table and addressing Lisa again.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, though I’m amazed we haven’t run into each other before. My boss talks about you all the time.”

Theo couldn’t help but feel robbed as he watched Wren and his mother hug in the courtyard. He wished he could stand up, pull the two apart and drag Wren away back to their room where he could explain the woman in the courtyard was just some weird flamboyant aunt.

He hadn’t wanted it to happen like this.

He could smell himself, for one. He smelt bad, like old sweat – God, he should have showered before this meeting. He’d known leaving he looked terrible and hadn’t bothered to change, but now, with how the lunch was going, he regretted not sucking it up and putting on a proper shirt. He’d sweat through it but at least he’d feel more human. His throat was on fire too, made worse by the mimosa, the acidity of the orange juice and champagne made him feel heady and too warm and the nausea worse. His face was flushed, he could tell. He knew Lisa could see. He wasn’t sure if Wren noticed, and didn’t get up if only to draw attention away from himself.

“Good Lord, you’re handsome! And so tall, too! What are you, six foot three? Theo always liked them tall, and I can’t say I blame him!”

The one good thing about his cold was that he felt too awful to feel embarrassed by his mom’s words. The worst was the pain in his back – different from the regular muscle pain. It was a throbbing, heavy hammer that fell against the back of his lungs with every breath, and an absolute anvil drop every time he coughed. He could hear himself breathing, this terrible, wet rattle that was never enough air to ease his nausea.

He sat back in the wrought iron chair, the hard back digging into his ribs even through his wool cardigan. He watched warily as they embraced, powerless to stop it, Lisa laying her hand on his lower back far too long, even as they separated, and Wren lying rather graciously about Theo’s unwillingness for them to meet.

But … Was it a lie? At this point? He couldn’t recall, as hard as he tried. Unweaving his half truths and lies at this point was too difficult, like treading through muddy water. There was just too much. She knew that Theo had lied about Wren being in New York… and Theo knew. But beyond that – the small comments he’d made throughout their relationship. Lying … Or at least, not telling Wren, or his mom, about how his disability was progressing. He’d lied to Wren about his relationship with his mom, and hadn’t even broached the topic of his lack of one with his dad. The entirety of it was too much, and he hadn’t prepared. It was best he stayed quiet, at least until he needed to intervene. 

They separated, finally. Theo forced a smile as Wren came to sit next to him, but softened as he took his hand. He couldn’t feel it, even as Wren threaded his fingers through his. He couldn’t feel anything. But it was still comforting.

“Carina Muller, right? We graduated together from Colombia. Competitive thing! She always was, even in law school.”

Had he the energy, he would have snorted at her hypocrisy.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Theo –” She gestured at him, and he grimaced – “is obviously crazy about you. And to meet somewhere like Cannon Beach?”

“He’s from Cannon Beach, Mom. It’s where he grew up,” Theo interjected, before she could say anything bad about Oregon. About the hicks and the gun nuts and the hippies and the clueless Millennials who lived there. He couldn’t remember if he’d mentioned that, or if she was willfully forgetting.

She laughed, perhaps a bit dismissively. “I know where he’s from. What are the chances that the two of you met?” Another lie. She didn’t know about the support group. “It’s been a lifesaver for me to know that he has someone to care for him there, at such a critical point in how things are going for his health. And such a surprise to see you here, in New York. Theo didn’t mention you’d be joining him.”

“Mom,” he interrupted, though his voice didn’t come out much more than a hoarse whisper. He swallowed, before looking at Wren. “I didn’t think it would be a good time for introductions. We’ve been … busy.”

His mom glanced at him, before directing her attention back to Wren.

“I thought this trip was for pleasure?”

“No, we’ve just been …” Theo frowned, rubbing the side of his face as Lisa flashed him a look of very real irritation. He couldn’t remember what he’d told her. It seemed so long ago. “Wren left Deloitte. He’s moving back to Cannon Beach.”

“Oh,” she said, with what looked to be a genuine note of surprise. “Well, that’s wonderful news. But why?”

Theo glanced up at Wren, biting his lip. Wren looked at him, before squeezing his hand.

“I want to take some time off to refocus on things other than work.”

Theo smiled gratefully at him, perhaps his first genuine smile all day, and he squeezed his hand back in acknowledgement. It was perfect. He was perfect.

Lisa watched the exchange, smiling thinly at the two of them. “I can’t imagine the job market for associate positions being all that lucrative in a small beach town. There can’t be much more than a seasonal tourist economy bringing money in.”

“I’ve been looking for jobs in Portland. There’s a lot of opportunities there,” answered Wren rather graciously, not falling for the obvious jab.  

“We’re only an hour away,” Theo added, jumping to Wren’s defense too quickly. Something caught in his throat, sparking a coughing fit that quickly brought tears to his eyes. He hunched over, holding a hand to his chest to help cushion some of the pain. When it was finally over, he straightened a little, grabbing the napkin off the table to press to his mouth. When he looked up, he realized he’d caught the attention of the other tables, who looked over at their group with distaste. His mom must have noticed.

“Theo, please. Don’t work yourself up,” she chided, before turning to Wren. Theo grimaced, wiping his eyes and trying to catch his breath.  

He fell quiet after that. He just didn’t have the energy to jump in every time Lisa asked Wren a question, and besides, he seemed to be doing well without him. Oddly, the two were getting along like they’d known each other for years. Wren seemed to be at ease, like he wasn’t meeting his boyfriend’s intense, judgemental mother for the first time. And Lisa was all smiles, laughter, and arm touching.

He knew he ought to be happy about it. But it didn’t help untie the knot of unease in his stomach.

The two of them talked some more about Deloitte - about the work culture and the hours he used to pull, gossiped about some of the partners (or, rather, Lisa prompting Wren with some rather salacious comments only to have Wren respond diplomatically), about living in Manhattan, the best places to grab late night takeout when everything was closed. Lisa talked about her firm, about the challenges they’d faced at the beginning but not failing to mention now how well they were doing, how far they’d come and how much growth they anticipated in 2017, including a few new senior associate positions opening up in the near future. At some point a delicate mug of hot tea arrived for him, which he couldn’t remember ordering, only for Wren to direct the waiter to set it in front of Theo. Theo smiled gratefully at him, shaking his head no when Wren asked him if he was hungry.

And now that he didn’t have to monitor the conversation so closely, Theo found himself dozing off. He was still uncomfortable, sitting in this hard, armless chair. But it was a warm day, and the tea had helped soothe his throat and clear his sinuses. He found himself wondering how Violet was doing, how Patricia was doing without him there, if he ought to call her to make sure everything was okay. At some point during the lunch that carried on without him, he’d actually thought he’d caught sight of a black cat wandering around the courtyard, and for a moment worried if Violet had somehow stowed away in his suitcase. He realized it was impossible, but the worry gnawed at him. He tried to remember to ask Wren later if he thought it was possible.

What seemed like an eternity later, Lisa checked the time and stated with surprise that already an hour had passed.

“I have to get back to the office. But Wren, it was such a pleasure to meet you. I have to say, what an improvement over some of Theo’s last boyfriends. None of them were exactly prizes.”

He didn’t care enough to respond to that. Wren helped him stand, and Theo thought that maybe Lisa had had a good enough time to forget to analyse each of his new disabilities. They hugged goodbye, Lisa delicately wrapping her arms around him like she was afraid he might shatter if she squeezed too hard, and pulling Wren into a long, somewhat intimate embrace he wished he could somehow will himself into forgetting.

After another insistence that they meet for brunch tomorrow before their flight, Lisa departed in an echoing clatter of heels and a cloud of perfume. She was already on the phone with her assistant by the time she reached the door.  

Wren took Theo’s arm, and they slowly made their way back upstairs.

“That went really well,” Theo couldn’t help but comment once they were in the elevator. “I was worried she was going to be judgemental like she usually is. When she texted me last night inviting me out for brunch, I thought she was trying to lay some kind of trap. But I think she really likes you.”

Theo smiled, looking up at Wren and leaning in closer to him. It was easy to forget some of the comments she’d made at the beginning, because all that mattered was that she liked Wren.

 “I’m so relieved.”

When Wren sat down and took Theo’s hand, it was with some trepidation. He’d walked in on a tense moment—he could feel it—and from the expression on Theo’s face, it hadn’t been going well for him. He didn’t know what to expect, and braced himself for the worst.

But Lisa Ronstadt was nothing like Wren had imagined.

He hadn’t been completely right—they had met before, though only in passing. She almost certainly wouldn’t remember him, but she was impossible to forget. When his team had worked with her, he and Angie had been on a different project. He had distinct memories of Katie and Will emerging from meetings with her, half-frazzled, half-starry-eyed. When they’d gone out drinking during the week, Will had regaled them with tales of things they’d witnessed—how she’d shut people down if they were saying something she thought was stupid or irrelevant, but also how she’d encourage you if you’d picked up on something important or interesting. Later that same night, while they’d been sharing a cigarette, Katie had described her attention as the most terrifying yet desirable thing she’d ever wanted. At the time, Wren hadn’t known whether he was glad or jealous to be missing out.

Now that he had it, he still didn’t know. He wished he’d had more time to prepare, though he wasn’t sure any amount of homework would have equipped him for this. Without realising, he’d developed a preconception of what she would be like in his mind, an image he’d been adding to and subtracting from as he’d learnt more about Theo. He’d expected someone… stern, maybe. Even cold. Someone who could ship their pre-teen son off to a boarding school in another state, someone ‘mean and judgemental’. Someone Theo had moved across the country to get away from.

But she wasn’t anything like that. If anything, the exact opposite. Lisa Ronstadt was absolutely formidable, and a little overwhelming—at certain points in the conversation, Wren felt a little bit like he was being interviewed—but she was also warm and open and surprisingly easy to talk to. It turned out they actually had a lot in common. He had been anticipating a monster, but he liked her immediately. She was so much like Theo, it would have been impossible not to.

It was kind of funny. Even aside from the immediate similarities, it was obvious they were related. She had Theo’s laugh (or, he supposed, Theo had hers), the same cadence to her voice, the same expressiveness as she talked. She was almost more Theo than Theo, who had fallen uncharacteristically silent shortly after the rocky start. Every time Wren glanced over at him, for input or to check on him, he seemed far away. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was sick—he really probably should be back in bed—or mad that his mom had dropped in on him without warning, both understandable. Whatever the reason, Wren was happy to pick up the slack until Lisa got up to hug them both goodbye.

They watched as she walked out, and Wren looped his arm through Theo’s before they headed in the opposite direction, back up to their room. It was a relief to see that Theo seemed to be in a better mood now that he was out of the shadow of his mother—like a load had been lifted off him.

“I’m relieved too. The way you were talking about her, I was expecting Norma Bates,” he teased, nudging him with his elbow. “I can’t believe you forgot to tell me you were going to have brunch, though. Were you really that worried she wouldn’t like me?”

He squeezed his arm and leant in to kiss his temple, but something about Theo’s expression made him hesitate.

“… you did forget, right? Even though… when I showed up. She said you didn’t want us...”

He forced himself to stop. Swallowed. Tried again, only to have another unbidden thought come forward.

“… is… is that why you didn’t tell her you were here with me?”

The elevator came to a halt, and he wished he could blame that on the way his stomach lurched, his head span. He couldn’t move, even as the doors rolled open, even though he knew this was their floor. At some point he’d let go of Theo’s arm, taken a step back, and he balled his hands into fists until he could feel his nails biting into his palms.

When he spoke, his voice trembled.

“Did you think… she’d hate me that much?”

No.

That’s what he’d wanted to say. And he would have said it while laughing when Wren joked about Lisa being Norma Bates, ostensibly to his Norman. He would have said it when Wren breezily laughed about the worry that had lurked in the back of Theo’s mind ever since he’d first blurted out the word boyfriend in Sally’s store, that rainy morning in Portland that seemed so long ago. That his mom wouldn’t like him, because he wasn't working at the time and suffered from a mental illness he knew she would belittle. He would have denied it outright, because it wasn’t true. Not really. If it had been enough, he would have. Over and over and over again, because it was the truth. No, he hadn’t been worried about Lisa not liking him. Wren didn't have a job anymore, but it didn't mean he didn't have a lucrative career and future. So, no, that wasn’t why he’d lied to Lisa about Wren being in New York. No, he didn’t think she’d hate him.

It wouldn’t be enough to say no.

He'd felt the realization slowly creep through Wren when he broached the topic of him forgetting to tell him about the brunch. Even in his sickness, where words took longer to make sense and all subtext was lost, Wren’s body language (as always) spoke louder than anything he could ever say. And Theo felt it in how his arm weakened, the way Wren drifted away from him, the warmth from the kiss he failed to press to the favourite spot by his temple slowly grow cold.

He knew denial would be the wrong way to play this. He couldn’t lie to him – or rather, didn’t want to lie to him. And cutting off the Wren spiral now was paramount. He needed to be honest.

Theo looked up at him, but Wren wouldn’t meet his eyes. He squeezed his arm, his fingers moving downwards to grasp his hand.

“She asked me to brunch last night,” Theo admitted hoarsely, “and I knew you were busy so I thought it would be easier to go alone rather than add meeting my mother to the list of things you had to do. I’m sorry for keeping that from you.”

Judging by the look on Wren’s face, he knew no wouldn’t be enough. But now, trying to figure out when he’d fucked up and how, how to explain away the weeks of lies of and mistruths, was just impossible. Had it started a week ago, when he’d told Lisa Wren wouldn’t be coming to New York? Had it been when Theo would only mention Wren in conversation when he’d done something sweet, like when he’d come to visit him in Portland, or walked him to the Point because Theo had wanted to see the sunset? Theo couldn’t navigate the complexities. Not when Wren was staring at him like that, like he had betrayed him.

The elevator rang and shuddered to a stop. The movement made him feel nauseous, made him lose his footing. The tea and orange juice and sip of champagne his mother made him drink broiled in his throat like heart burn.

He felt his resolve weaken when Wren wouldn’t move. And then his voice, how it shook. It made him desperate. He clutched his cane tighter.

“No, Wren. That’s not it. I knew she’d like you. I wasn’t worried about that,” Theo said. His throat hurt, every word scraping its way out. But was that a lie too? He closed his eyes, shaking his head to try to clear away the fogginess that had clouded his mind the last couple days. He just felt dizzy and unsure. Waking up and walking down to the courtyard and suffering through that brunch had exhausted him enough. This conversation – argument? – was too much.  

The elevator rung again, more forcefully this time, chiding them for not leaving. Other people on the floors above must have been waiting for it.

 “I just – I didn’t want you to meet today. I wanted you to meet when you were doing a little better – this week has been hard, right? I wanted you to meet her when things were better. That’s it.”

He shut his eyes.

She’d only met one of his boyfriends before, and Ben had done everything right. He’d been nice, and had told her about himself. About his job in the media and his poetry on the side. He’d held Theo’s hand and told her how much he liked him. Her feedback had been blunt but familiar. He just seems like he’s lost, but refuses to ask for directions. I don’t know what else you want me to say. I’m not really sure I like him.

If she’d had a similar reaction to Wren it would have killed him. He loved him – Wren mattered more than anyone – anything – to him.

He tried again.  

“Can we just go back to the room?” Theo whispered, grasping Wren’s hand tighter. His palm was clammy, while Wren’s was bone dry, and limp. “I really need to go back to bed. My mom – before you got there, she was... I told you she stresses me out. That’s it. I swear.”

For a moment, Wren hoped he’d made a mistake. Maybe he’d overreacted, blown what must have been a misunderstanding way out of proportion. But the more Theo talked, less convincing he sounded. With a jolt, Wren realised that he just didn’t believe him.

He stared at him, numb, stuck in place, hoping for—something, anything, he might have missed, a word or a phrase or a gesture which would have made things make sense. But there was nothing to find. Only desperate, overwhelming excuses which sounded an awful lot like more lies.

“I can’t do this right now,” he whispered, pulling his hand away from Theo’s grasp. He needed to think, but under these circumstances, thinking was impossible. “Go lie down. I’ll be back soon.”

The elevator doors began to close, and he jabbed the button to keep them open, glancing back at Theo. He wanted to argue. Wren could feel it.

“Please,” he said. “I promise I won’t be long.”

He went. It took a long few tortuous seconds, but he went back to the room.

The doors closed behind him, unhindered this time, and as soon as Theo was out of sight, Wren sagged against the mirrored wall of the elevator, finally able to breathe again. Everything Theo had said, his reassurances and jumbled explanations… he wanted to trust him, and it wasn’t that he thought he’d been malicious, but there was something there which just wasn’t right.

The elevator doors opened again, revealing a figure behind them. Wren’s chest tightened until he realised it wasn’t Theo. They’d stopped on a different floor. The man gave him an odd look as he entered, and Wren averted his eyes. He could still feel the ghost of Theo’s hand gripping his, before he’d pulled it away.

Fuck. He needed some air.

“So… he lied to you?” Katie’s eyes were wide, her voice disbelieving.

Wren nodded, a picture of misery. “And to his mom. She didn’t know I was even in town.”

“Why?”

He wished he knew. It was all he’d been able to think about since he’d left Theo at the hotel, even as he’d texted Katie to ask if she could still do lunch, even as he’d travelled to the restaurant trying to rearrange himself back into some semblance of a functional human being.

“He said it was a bad time. That he didn’t want to make a hard week worse.” It sounded just as unconvincing now as it had coming from him. It should have sounded considerate.

“Sure, and that’s why he lied to his mom,” said Katie, picking up her cocktail. “But what I don’t get is why he lied to you about it.”

Wren looked up at her. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if it was about bad timing, then lying to her makes sense. He didn’t want her to know you were in town because he didn’t want her to insist on meeting you, right?”

He frowned, unsure where she was going with this. “Right...”

“Right.” She nodded, setting her glass back down and folding her arms. “But if he was fine with it otherwise, why wouldn’t he have just asked you if you wanted to meet her? There was no reason to lie to you. I mean, you knew she lived here. It would have been kind of weird not to bring it up.”

“I didn’t even realise,” Wren said. “He mentioned her a few times but I just thought she must have been busy, or out of town, or something. It didn’t sound like they were going to catch each other.”

“But they did,” said Katie. “And he didn’t tell you about it, so he didn’t want you to meet her. Why? Was he trying to… protect you? Protect himself? I mean, I wouldn’t want Lisa Ronstadt to catch me lying to her, so I can’t say I blame him.”

Wren looked away, back down at his plate, his untouched burger and fries. Theo had certainly sounded like he’d been trying to protect him, but he didn’t know from what. Lisa had been nice. They’d gotten along. She had interrogated him at times, but he thought he’d handled himself fine. He could have been wrong, but it had seemed like she’d liked him. Theo had even said she had.

But he’d sounded surprised by that.

“I think he’s ashamed of me.”

He hadn’t realised he’d been thinking it until he said it, but he knew he was right. It was the only thing which made sense. It explained Theo’s fear about Lisa being judgemental, when she’d been perfectly fine. Him jumping in to interrupt every time he’d tried to answer one of her questions. His relief when it had gone well. Why he’d lied to him about meeting her. Why he’d lied about why he’d lied.

“Oh, Wren.” Katie reached over the table to squeeze his arm, and he looked up at her, expecting to see pity. But there was none in her expression—eyes hard, mouth turned down. “If that’s true, then he’s a fucking idiot.”

He offered her a grateful smile, even though smiling was the last thing he felt like doing, and she let go of his arm to flag down their waiter. She ordered another two Long Island Iced Teas before turning back to Wren. “You’re going to have to talk to him, you know.”

He sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

He just didn’t know how.

Three drinks down and feeling a little—not better, but more set in what needed to be done, Wren spent the trip back to the hotel rehearsing what he was going to say. They needed to have this discussion before they went home, preferably as soon as possible, so they could figure out how to move past it. He hoped he was wrong, and he’d just misinterpreted what Theo had been trying to say. But even if he was right, he wasn’t sure if Theo even realised that was how he felt. He hoped he didn’t, because he wasn’t sure what he would do if he found out otherwise.

When he got back to the suite, he stopped outside the door for a moment to steel himself. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside, shutting it behind him quietly. The lounge was empty.

“Theo?” he said, and waited for a second, but there was no response. He’d half-expected that—he figured Theo might have been asleep, which was fine, but.. something didn’t feel right. There were no sleep-sounds, no gentle snoring or muffled tossing. He might have been in the bathroom, but he couldn’t hear water or music or movement. Had he gone out? In his state?

Dropping his book on the coffee table, Wren headed for the bedroom, peering around the door, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Theo was in bed—or, rather, on top of the bed, still dressed and on his back. Some unidentifiable liquid had pooled next to the bed, and Wren could hear his breathing now, horrible and wet and wheezing. Throwing off his paralysis, he rushed to his side, their fight forgotten. His lips… his lips were blue. He sounded like he was dying.

“Theo?” he whispered, then repeated again, louder, taking his hand. His eyes fluttered, and he thought he might have been trying to say something, but he couldn’t make it out. He was warm, but his skin was dry. Wren didn’t know what to do. Fuck. What to do?

He had to get someone. “One second,” he said to Theo, squeezing his hand before letting go and dashing back into the lounge. There was a phone on the desk, and he dialled for reception, looking back to the bed anxiously as he waited for someone to answer.

As soon as he heard the click of the receiver being picked up, he barrelled on, stumbling over his words in a rush to get them out. “Hi—please, I need some first aid—it’s an emergency, my partner’s had a stroke or maybe a fit, I’m not sure, he’s been sick for a few days and now he’s not responding and I don’t know how long he’s been like this--”

To their credit, whoever was on the other end managed to parse his babbling. “We’ll be up in a minute.”

It felt like an eternity, and then everything happened very quickly.

Two people arrived with a first aid kit, and one of them pulled him away from Theo. Then somebody must have called an ambulance, because there were suddenly paramedics in their room too. One of them fired questions at him, most of which he couldn’t answer—how long has he been like this? Is he taking any medications? What dosage? Does he have any allergies?—while the other one attended to Theo. They conferred for a few seconds before standing on either end of the bed and hauling his limp body onto a stretcher.

Wren grabbed one of the hotel employees. “What’s happening?”

The woman glanced at him. “They’re taking him to the ER. They were saying something about surgery...”

Wren paled. “Oh my god.”

One of the paramedics looked over. “You can’t ride with us, but we’re going to New York Downtown.”

The woman from the hotel nodded. “I’ll call a taxi and call up when it’s ready.”

Then, as suddenly as they’d arrived, they left, and Wren was really, truly alone.

“-- Just breathe normally, okay? In and out. Slowly, Theo. We’ll be at the hospital soon. You need to stay calm.”

The room was shaking, jerking this way and that. He was cold, his fingers and wrists were spasms of pain. His head was going to explode, or at the very least separate from his shoulders. A resounding thrumming that wound his neck tighter with every beat. The pressure in his chest, too, felt like it was about to collapse in on itself.

Something’s wrong – 

He was too tired to get the air in, it hurt too much. There was something on his face, and he tried to take it off. It was pushing wind into his mouth, making his tongue dry and squeezing the pressure around his chest, making it worse, making it tight. But his hand was heavy when he tried to lift it, clumsy and all tied up with strings and wires. 

“You have an oxygen mask on, Theo. It’ll help you breathe until we figure out what’s going on. Just try to stay calm, and don’t touch it.” The profile of a woman slipped in and out of focus in the bright blinding lights of the room, her voice cutting through the beeping, the wailing of something high pitched and mournful singing out above them.

Wren – why wasn’t he here?  

He stared back up at the ceiling of the ambulance, feeling more alone, more scared than he ever had before. A noise crept out of his throat, small and pained and muffled by the mask over his face.

It was the worst feeling in the wold.

He felt the paramedic’s hand grip his, and he wondered if he was dying. 

---

“He was found unresponsive by his partner, dehydrated and hypoxic. He thinks he had a seizure – but he couldn’t say if he’s ever had one before. His body temp measured at 106. Oxygen levels improved after CPAP, but his blood pressure is still low. He’s taking Copaxone and Baclofen for Multiple Sclerosis, no, his partner didn’t know what age he was diagnosed. Capnogram results show …”

It was too bright and the movement made him nauseous. Faces and hands and the blurring of lights overhead. Every bump made his spine burn. He didn’t want to be here, not again.

A nurse appeared above him, his mouth was moving but nothing was coming up. He couldn’t make out his face.

And then, nothing. 

---

The offices of Davis Ronstadt Wood were austere, reserved, and if she said so herself, quite dramatic. The floor to ceiling windows overlooked Manhattan, wedged between other towering buildings that made movie sets look uninspired. She loved this boardroom in particular, with its original Kehinde Wiley, featured prominently in 2015’s New York Times. She always sat in front of the windows so her clients had the best view, of both herself and the sprawling skyline.

“Gentlemen. First things first, we need to show the probability of irreparable harm to your business.” Lisa leaned over the conference table, sliding over one of the bound stack of pages, before easing back into her seat. She licked her thumb, deftly splitting open one of the ring bound stack of papers and flipping to the page where Julia had laid out the cost analysis. “If this outweighs the probable harm while the case is pending, we can get a temporary injunction.

“Now, this case is relatively straightforward in the world of intellectual property litigation. I can take it on at the rate of eight hundred an hour, or I can refer you to Heather, my senior associate, for half that much. Last year she headed the GE account and won them a settlement of twenty two million.”

She crossed her right leg over the other and clasped her hands together, gazing at the trio of men on the other side of the conference room table. Two of them poured over the file immediately, brows furrowed. Christian had his thumb in his mouth, grinding the nail between his teeth. Edmond picked at the plate of pastries in front of him, waiting for the other two to make their decision.

Over their heads, the receptionist walked by, peering through the reeded glassed and into the boardroom. She stopped by the door, and with a flash of annoyance Lisa thought she might open it. When they made eye contact she wisely thought better of it and scampered off. Good, thought Lisa. She wasn’t to be disturbed when she was with her clients. The two other partners didn’t seem to mind, often preferred it to seem more important and busy.

She directed her attention back to the men before her.

“Any questions, I’m here,” she offered soothingly.

A minute later came a gentle, but authoritative knock. The door opened and her assistant stepped through. Ruby’s expression was at it always was – perfectly neutral, with a warmth Lisa knew was expertly manufactured.

“Lisa, can I have a moment?”

She nodded, before unhooking her leg from over her knee and standing.

“Gentlemen, excuse me. Take this time to review the contract and I’ll be back in a few.”

When they were alone in her office, Ruby showed her the scrawled message taken down by the receptionist.

“Wren called. Theo’s been taken to the hospital,” she said, voice soft. “He thinks he had a seizure.”

Her stomach dropped, and she swallowed, taking the note and reading it for herself. All it said was the name, and his hastily written phone number. RON, 503-442-0391

“When?” she asked, looking up at her. “Did he say?”

Ruby shook her head. “I’m not sure. I tried calling him back after Quinn got me but it went right to voicemail.” She paused, glancing at her phone. “I’ve already called James. He should be downstairs waiting with the car by the time you get there. They took him downtown.”

She felt herself nod, but couldn’t stop staring at the note. She’d tried so hard not to say anything to Theo at brunch, how thin and pale he looked. How defensive and angry he’d been. About the cane he’d been using to walk for god knew how long – how his hands hadn’t stopped shaking. Fuck, she wished she had, now.

He told her he’d been okay, this last year.

“Get Heather, ask her to finish up in there. They don’t need me on this one.”

Ruby nodded. “Of course.”

---

Her heels echoed loudly as she marched through the hallways of New York Presbyterian, past stretchers and laughing nurses and doctors lining up for coffee. When she finally found out where he was she’d tossed off countless bibbed volunteers’ efforts to help guide her to diagnostic imaging – she’d been here countless times before, after all. The only one to actually offer any semblance of help had been after a security guard was called – the very same who marched glumly behind her. It wasn’t like she had a gun or a bomb. She just wanted to find her son.

When she got to DI, she beelined for the desk.  

“My son is inside, getting an x-ray. He isn’t conscious and I have medical power of attorney in the state of New York.” She paused, setting her oxblood Birkin on the desk and carefully withdrawing a folded piece of paper, sliding it beneath the plexiglass partition that separated her and the aid. She looked tired, she noted. Her name tag said Nancy.

“I’d like to speak to his physician. I know he’s busy, but could you please page him. I understand this is an emergency but my son isn’t capable of making medical decisions at the moment, and I do not consent to further intervention being taken until I’m brought up to speed.”

Nancy stared at her, then the form, before looking away and typing something loudly into the keyboard. After a painful few minutes where Lisa wondered if she’d have to invoke further legalese, she picked up the phone and spoke lowly into it.

“Dr. Lopez will be out soon – they’ve actually just finished the x-ray.”

Lisa smiled, relieved. The first piece of good news. She took her purse off the counter, leaning forward.

“Thank you, Nancy. I appreciate your empathy… How do you take your coffee? You look like you need a pick me up.”

With coffee order in hand, Lisa turned, taking in the familiar surroundings of the DI waiting room. It was the same wipeable seats, the same bad art, the same scratched linoleum floors.

She wouldn’t wait. She hated the uselessness of it, the impotence of inaction.

It was time to get Nancy coffee.

She started for the café, the noise from her shoes drawing glares from the patients and family in the waiting room.

That’s when she saw him, wandering in her direction. Unconsciously, she noted his height before she realized who it was. Then she took in the messy brown hair, the slouched shoulders, the baleful expression.

“Wren!” She called out. It took him a second, but after a long moment he acknowledged her with a look. Then he walked towards her.  

She liked Wren.

He was kind, and quiet. He was serious, but she could tell when it came to Theo he had a playful side. The small, private smiles he flashed at him when he was being particularly Theo. He was smart, too. And thoughtful. He’d had an answer to every question she’d thrown his way, even when Theo had interrupted him. He was patient, and most importantly, he was caring. She doubted she’d ever had someone so pleased to see her as Wren was upon seeing Theo.

As he approached her, she saw in his expression what she wouldn’t acknowledge in herself. And it was validating that she finally had someone with her, who cared just as much about her son as she did. To share the trauma of having a loved one go through so much pain.

But she didn’t know if he was invested.

As she took his arm, a man in a white lab coat approached them.

And that’s when it fell apart.

He told them that Theo’s lungs were full of fluid. That they suspected double bacterial pneumonia, and it was possible the infection had spread. He explained how he’d need a chest tube – a minor surgery – followed by more testing. While his symptoms were synonymous with pneumonia, Wren thought he’d had a seizure, so they needed to test for meningitis. That meant blood cultures and spinal fluid testing. That this likely meant his MS would flare up from the inflammation – he’d need steroids and an MRI when he was stable to stop any new lesions from forming – but he’d have to consult their MS specialist if that time came. When that time came.

She signed off on the surgery and testing. What else could she do – action was better than nothing.

The doctor left. She only realized she’d never let go of Wren’s arm, until she did. She released him, and stepped away, feeling her heart racing. Not again.

She needed to call Roger. He was likely in Connecticut, sitting in his study watching the news. She’d have to wait to get a second opinion.

“I need to get Nancy coffee. Come,” she ordered, and marched off.

“You need to tell me everything, right now,” she demanded as they walked, searching through her purse for her wallet. She’d get them all coffee. And donuts, if she had to.

“Start from the beginning. When he stopped being able to walk.”

As he stood in their empty suite, surrounded by an eerie, awful stillness, Wren felt as though he was short-circuiting. His brain was like a machine, whirring away, trying to process what had just happened, only to throw an error and start from the beginning.

Theo was gone. They’d taken him away.

What if he never came back?

Slowly, painfully, he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and forced himself to move. The cab would only be a few minutes. He didn’t have time to worry or to dwell on what-ifs.

Re-entering the bedroom, Wren grabbed his rucksack, dumping its contents out onto the bed before beginning to repack it. He threw in some clothes (a couple of his t-shirts—Theo had only brought button-ups—some boxers, the softest cashmere sweater of the collection), Theo’s phone and phone charger, his moisturiser and toothbrush, a book, and, finally, Theo’s medication. Shrugging the bag on, he did a final check for anything he might have missed (keys, wallet, phone) before locking the room behind him and heading downstairs to wait for the taxi.

He only thought to call Lisa after leaving the hotel.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he hit the on button, and his stomach dropped. He must have had it on do not disturb, because he’d missed three calls from Theo and he knew he hadn’t heard it ring. He’d left him a voicemail too, and Wren regretted hitting play almost as soon as it started. Theo sounded awful, almost gasping for air, every breath punctuated by a horrible rattling. It took all of Wren’s willpower to sit there and listen to it, but he made himself do it, just in case there was a clue as to what had happened somewhere in his rambling message, anything he could give the doctors.

There wasn’t. Nothing he said made much sense. He just sounded confused and sad and in pain. Wren listened to it twice, just in case, then carefully saved it before shoving his phone back in his pocket and staring out of the window. He should have answered his phone. He should have known something was wrong. He couldn’t believe he’d let this happen.

Don’t think about it, he told himself. Don’t catastrophise.

But that was easier said than done when all he could hear was Theo’s laboured breathing, when all he could see was Theo’s lips turning blue.

The cab deposited him in front of the entrance to the ER, and he headed for the reception desk. There was a line, and as he joined it, he remembered he’d meant to phone Lisa.

The only problem—and it was a big problem—was that he didn’t have her number. Theo would, of course, and he had his phone, but he didn’t know how to get into it. After a moment of panic he googled the main line for Davis Rondstadt Wood and dialled that instead, hoping she was in the office instead of out meeting a client somewhere.

The line rang for what felt like hours before being answered by a woman with a clipped voice. “Davis Ronstadt Wood. How may I help you?”

“I need to speak with Lisa Ronstadt,” he said, surprising himself at how shaky his voice sounded. “It’s an emergency.”

“Mrs. Ronstadt is unavailable at the moment,” said the woman. “If you leave your name and number I can let her know that you called.”

“It’s about her son. Theo. Please. I think—I think he had a seizure.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed. “We’re at New York Presbyterian. I need to speak with her.”

There was a pause. “Sorry, sir, what did you say your name was?”

“It’s Wren. Wren Ruskin.” The person in front of him was called up to the desk. “I need to go—please can you ask her to call me back?”

“Of course. Can I confirm the best number for her to reach you?”

Wren rattled off his phone number and just had time to thank her before being waved up. The receptionist confirmed Theo had been admitted to the ER but wasn’t able to tell him much of anything else. So he took a seat, and he waited. There wasn’t much else he could do.

Waiting was hard. He tried to read his book, but couldn’t concentrate. He stood up and walked around the waiting room once, then twice. He went back to the information desk a couple of times, only to be told there was no further news. There was nothing from Lisa, but the signal was so spotty he couldn’t be sure if she’d tried to call him or not. He was tempted to go outside to try her again, but the thought that something might happen and he’d miss it kept him there, pacing like a tiger in a cage.

The longer he waited, the harder it become not to panic. No news was supposed to be good news, but he wasn’t wholly convinced anybody would tell him if something went wrong. He wanted to rage and shout and demand that somebody let him see Theo. He wanted to sob and scream and check every room in this godforsaken place until he found where they were keeping him. He wished he’d insisted on coming with them in the ambulance. He wished Robin was here. He wished he had a cigarette, just for something to fucking do.

Just as he was about to go speak to the receptionist for the fifth or sixth time, she came up to him.

“Your friend’s been discharged from the ER,” she said. “The doctors are doing more tests. You’ll need to go to the Patient Information Services desk to find out more.”

She rattled off some directions and he thanked her profusely before heading out of the ER waiting room as quickly as he could without breaking into an all-out sprint.

Theo had been moved out of ER. That meant—well, it didn’t mean he could be relieved, not yet, but it was good news all the same. And now he was one step closer to seeing him.

He didn’t make it to Patient Information. Lisa intercepted him before he could get there. He heard her before he saw her, and it took him a moment to register who it was. He’d almost forgotten she was coming, and the sight of her was surprisingly comforting—an indication that he wasn’t alone in this, that Theo had another advocate.

“Lisa—” he started, before they were interrupted by a man who looked an awful lot like a doctor. It was a welcome interruption, until it wasn’t. Wren’s machine-brain kicked in again as the doctor explained the situation, doing its best to crunch its way through the influx of information. He had a million questions—the prime ones being is he awake? and when can we see him?—but no opportunity to ask any of them. One thing was clear. He didn’t know anything about MS, or how bad it was, or how bad it could get. When the doctor left, he left him dazed. This whole situation had sneaked up on him and he didn’t know how he’d managed to let it.

Lisa let go of his arm, and he almost asked her to take it again. He needed to be grounded.

Instead, he followed after her, hugging himself. At least somebody here was taking charge. For that, he was grateful, even if he had no idea where they were going or who Nancy was.

But her question made him frown. “He’s used the cane since I’ve known him,” he said. “So at least two months. But I was under the impression he’d had it for a while… didn’t you know he was using one?”

Someone else had said that recently, too. One of Theo’s not-really-friends, the night of the play. Poppy, when she’d cornered him at the bar.

“I don’t—” he started, then stopped, trying to figure out exactly what he was trying to say. “Lisa, I know he got really sick before he left New York, but I thought that was when he started having problems with his mobility. Are you saying he’s gotten worse since then?”

She listened to Wren speak while they walked, setting her jaw as he confirmed her suspicions. Theo had told him nothing. It made her feel a little better, in a way, that Wren knew as little as she did about him. That Theo was as secretive with her as he was with everyone else. She’d thought their relationship had improved at least a little since he’d moved away, particularly since he’d started seeing Wren and he'd seemed happier. They spoke more often now compared to when he still lived in the city. She thought they were finally growing closer. But she’d been wrong.

“No. I wasn’t aware.” The words tasted bitter. “It's true he was in the hospital for a relapse before he left, but he recovered. A few weeks later he was walking around like nothing happened and was already planning his big move to Portland,” she said, before snorting. “He was well enough to sell his condo without me knowing.”

God, she wished he’d never gotten rid of that place, even though it was in Brooklyn. It had a view of the park and a corner terrace.

She stepped to the side to make way for a nurse pushing a stretcher to wheel past, making sure her clothes didn’t brush against the wall, before spotting a sign leading them to the cafeteria. She beckoned Wren to follow, slipping her purse off her shoulder to fish her wallet out.

“You probably know this better than anyone but he’s very good at hiding these things from the people who care about him,” she said as she stepped into the line at the Dunkin Donuts, behind a man, and a woman in a wheelchair. The chain wouldn’t normally be her first choice, but she knew from experience that it was better coffee than the mom and pop deli over by Oncology. “Getting anything from Theo when it comes to his health is impossible,” she continued, her voice low.  “He must have had another relapse in Portland, but he never said a word about it to me. I was hoping you would be able to fill me in.”

She still didn’t know the extent of it. She didn’t know if his illness now – the pneumonia, and god forbid he had meningitis – had anything to do with the MS, if something else was going on to make him more susceptible. Or if he was just unlucky.

There wasn’t any sense in getting upset about it when they still knew so little. At least Wren had been there to call an ambulance.

When it was her turn in line, she ordered seven black coffees, cream and sugar on the side, and a peppermint tea for Wren (which he accepted only after she’d demanded he get something to drink), and handed him both of the trays while she paid with her card. She then thanked the cashier and they left, Lisa leading the way.

They stopped first at Diagnostic Imagining, where Nancy emerged from behind her plexiglass booth to greet her. They chatted for a bit, before Lisa handed her one of the trays to distribute as she wished among her colleagues. She then wished her a good evening, before heading off to Patient Information, where they did much of the same. She introduced herself as Theo’s mother and Wren as his boyfriend, and let her know where they would be sitting if there were any developments.

And there they waited. Lisa sat in the low backed chair, crossing one leg over the other and smoothing out her skirt. This was the part she hated, but was unfortunately used to. She glanced over at Wren, who looked just as lost as ever, and she smiled sympathetically as she reached over to squeeze his forearm.

“This is the worst part, I promise,” she said, then nodded to his phone, which he held in his hand. “Call your parents if you haven’t already, let them know what’s going on. Theo mentioned he’s close with them.” She continued to smile until he stood up and wandered off, then dropped it as she looked at her own phone.

She pulled up Emily’s contact information, where a picture of her daughter, her husband Yates and their smiling, chubby cheeked infant greeted her. The flowery picture seemed at odds with the situation. She hit call and waited, fully expecting to have to belay the news via text.

To her surprise, Emily picked up.

“Mom, hi. What’s going on?” Emily said by way of greeting.

“Hi, Em. I’m surprised you picked up,” Lisa replied, though she thought she could feel her smirking on the other side of the line. Instead, she heard her sigh.

“You only call when something bad has happened.”

Lisa frowned, before nodding. She couldn’t fault her for that. “In this case your judgement is astute, my dear. Theo’s just been admitted to the hospital.” She paused, trying to find the words. “He isn’t … Doing very well, unfortunately. They think it’s pneumonia. Or meningitis, God Forbid. I’m here with Wren, his new boyfriend. He’s beside himself,” she said, as she watched him pace by the vending machines. She couldn’t tell if he was on the phone or not.

Lisa fell silent, waiting for her response. She wanted to know how much she knew. Had Theo told his sister he’d be in the city? Would it was a surprise to her too that Wren had joined him? Did she even know who he was?

“Oh,” Emily said. “That is bad news.”

“Yes,” she agreed, noting how she didn’t volunteer any information. “It is. Anyway, don’t come down here just yet. We’re just waiting for now and I don’t want Hudson exposed to anything. I’ll keep you updated.”

The line went silent. Just as she was about to ask if Emily was still there, she spoke.

“Thank you for telling me. And please do.”

They said their goodbyes, and Lisa hung up. She stared at her phone, the image of her daughter’s photoshoot perfect family smiling up at her, as the din of the hospital rose back into focus.

“Is Theo Ronstadt’s family here?”

A nurse stood before her, clipboard in hand. Wren was already walking back towards them, brow furrowed, stuffing his phone into his pocket.  

“I’m his mother,” she announced, and the nurse sat down in the chair beside her. Lisa glanced at her name tag – Celia – and made a note to ask how she took her coffee. “How is he?”

“He’s about to go in for surgery. It’s a minor procedure, we’ll be inserting a chest tube to drain the fluid that’s built up in his lungs which we’ll also be testing for infection. Of course with any surgery there’s always risks,” said Nurse Celia, and Lisa nodded. She continued.

“We’re still waiting on the tests for pneumonia, then we’ll know which antibiotic to start him on. We’ve collected the spinal fluid for the meningitis test, but we won’t know until the morning.” Lisa watched as she spoke, feeling like she wasn’t telling her anything new.

“But how is he?” she asked, shaking her head. “Is he comfortable? Can we see him?”

Celia nodded, flipping through her chart.

“His care team is recommending admission to the ICU, both because of the advanced state of the infection as well as his pre-existing condition. Also it says here he's taking an immunosuppressant. Our main worry here is the infection spreading to his blood or other organs, which poses a much more challenging situation.”

“Wait, one moment. The ICU?” Lisa repeated, interrupting her. “How is that possible?”

The wave of panic she’d been so far managing to shore off with coffee runs and interrogating doctors finally broke through. She gripped her coffee tightly, if not to forget she was holding it.

Celia must have noticed. She glanced at Wren and Lisa, setting her chart down in her lap.

“I thought you knew. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Ronstadt. He - Theo - isn’t breathing on his own and was intubated as soon as he arrived. We gave him something for the pain so he’s comfortable, and staff are monitoring him. The most important thing is that he’s here, getting the care he needs.”

She couldn’t look at her. She knew she they were speaking the same language but she wasn’t making any sense. Lisa stared at the vinyl flooring, twisting her wedding ring as she processed the new information. Her child was on a ventilator. He wasn’t breathing on his own.

“I’m so sorry – I thought you’d been told. Do you have any other questions for me?”

“When can we see him.” Her mouth was dry. She hadn’t meant it to sound like a demand, yet she was sure she’d failed. Celia didn’t seem to notice.  

“In two or three hours – I’ll make sure to update you at least every thirty minutes. There’s a room that’s being readied for him as we speak, so if the surgery goes well you’ll be with him before you know it.”

“Thank you,” she murmured. Celia squeezed her arm, before standing up to leave, her shoes squeaking as she walked off.

She thought he’d just been unwell. If he’d had a seizure, well, they’d deal with it, as they had done in the past. But this – she hadn’t really realized how serious it was. She’d had pneumonia before, but she’d only been in bed for a week, an amount of time which had seemed unthinkable. But Theo had almost died – would have died, perhaps, if Wren hadn’t been there.

Which begged the question – where had Wren been before he’d found him?  

She watched as Celia passed through a set of double doors, before turning her attention to Wren. 

“Why did you leave him alone? What was so important that you had to leave him, as sick as he was?”

Her voice was hard, accusatory. She stared at him, waiting for an answer, before sighing, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t fair to take this out on Wren … Especially since she knew how Theo was.

“I’m sorry, this isn’t your fault. I just …” She fell silent and shook her head, tucking her hair behind her ears as she struggled to find the words.  

“He isn’t well, even before this happened. He’s had MS for ten years now, and I just want to impress on you that he will not get better. With every relapse comes more issues, more disability, that he likely won’t recover from.” She stared at him, and from the expression on his face she gathered her message wasn’t coming across. Lisa sighed, crossing one leg over the other and angling her body towards him, gripping onto the armrest of his chair.

“What I’m saying is,” she began, meeting his eyes, “if this is too much for you – if this isn’t what you signed up for. It would be better if you left now.”

It was harsh, she knew. But she couldn’t have another Ben situation.  

“I won’t blame you. You and Theo have only been together a few weeks, and while you clearly care about each other you don’t really know each other that well. Theo has been keeping secrets so it’s not your fault you don’t know how serious this is. If you are going to leave him… It would just be a lot easier for everyone if you did so now, rather than when he wakes up. Do you understand?"

Wren could feel himself unravelling as they made their circuit around the hospital.

Every new sentence out of Lisa’s mouth picked at the image he had of Theo, snagging on the things he’d thought he’d known just to pull them apart. The person she was describing – furtive, sneaky, blasé about his health – sounded absolutely nothing like his boyfriend. He’d always thought of Theo as open and gregarious, easy to read (the events of this morning notwithstanding, but given the circumstances Wren was inclined to give him some leeway there).

And he was always so careful about taking his medication… it had never even occurred to him that there might have been more he should have been doing or looking out for. It wasn’t like he hid his cane from him. He talked about accessibility all the time. Nothing he’d said or done had ever seemed like the actions of somebody in denial about his condition.

But at the same time it was becoming clear that Wren didn’t know very much about his condition to begin with. So how could he judge?

He couldn’t even blame anybody else for that. It wasn’t as though he’d asked and Theo had deflected. He just hadn’t asked. It just hadn’t occurred to him. So even if what Lisa was saying was true, even if Theo would have evaded any probing into his past, Wren hadn’t asked. Maybe if he had, he would have been able to see this coming. Maybe he could have prevented it.

Clutching his cup of tea, Wren hung back as Lisa charmed the staff, only half-listening to their conversation. It was clear she’d gone through this song and dance before, and was obviously a seasoned pro, so he should probably have been taking notes, but concentrating on anything was impossible at the moment. As she led him towards a bank of chairs, he closed his eyes for a moment. Thank fuck she was here. If this had happened in Cannon Beach…

He shuddered. If it had happened in Cannon Beach, the nearest hospital was in Seaside, fifteen minutes away. A half an hour round trip if they had to wait for an ambulance. He didn’t even know if they were geared up to handle somebody in Theo’s position.

A hand on his arm made him start, and he looked up to see Lisa giving him a sympathetic smile. Somehow, he didn’t find it reassuring.

“My parents.” He stared at her for a moment, uncomprehending, before shaking his head. “Right. Yeah… of course.” He shot her a tight, unconvincing smile and stood up, abandoning his rapidly cooling tea.

Fuck. The thought of calling his parents hadn’t even occurred to him. But Lisa was right, of course she was. They would want to know.

He found a quiet spot down a corridor, near an overspill waiting area. Leaning against the wall, he dialled his parents’ landline. For a moment, he thought it might ring out–honestly, kind of hoped it would–but then there was a click and it was too late to hang up.

“Hello?” His mom sounded cheerful. He could hear music in the background, and a weird, faint noise that sounded like sizzling. She must have been making lunch.

He swallowed and closed his eyes. “Hey, Mom.”

“Oh, Wren, honey! How are you spending your last day in New York? Listen, I know it’ll be a long day tomorrow, but if you and Theo aren’t too tired we’d love to have you over for dinner–”

A part of him wanted to let her talk, to pretend things were okay just for a few more minutes. But he knew that the longer he waited, the harder it would be.

“Mom, Theo’s in hospital.”

It was the second time he’d had to say it aloud, and it was just as bad as the first. He carried on before he could lose his nerve, before his mom could start asking a million questions and draw out the pain.

“He got taken to the ER. I think he had a seizure, I’m not really sure. The doctor said something about pneumonia and maybe meningitis. He’s going in for surgery now. I don’t know much more. They won’t let me see him, I wasn’t even allowed in the ambulance, but maybe soon...”

He cut himself off, realising he’d started rambling, that his voice had started to shake.

“Oh, honey,” said Lydia, and he could picture her in his mind’s eye, standing by the wall phone, twisting the phone cord around her fingers as she tried to work out the best thing to say, even though they both knew there was nothing she could say or do to make this better.

“Could you please tell Robin,” he said, more to break the silence than anything else. “And dad. I’ll call you back when I have more news.”

“Of course. But sweetheart, is there someone there with you? Can you call Scotty and ask him to wait with you?”

“Theo’s mom is here,” he said. “She works in New York. I’m sitting with her.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” said Lydia, before hesitating. “Wren… are you okay?”

She posed the question softly, like she was scared to ask.

He wanted to say, I’m fine, but he didn’t have the energy to lie.

“I’m scared,” he admitted. Somehow, speaking the words didn’t make him feel better.

His mom sighed, a low, wistful noise even when distorted by the phone. “I know, honey. I’m so sorry. Let me know if you need anything from us, and please keep us updated. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, before hanging up.

As he trudged back to where he’d left Lisa, he had a sudden moment of panic that he might have missed something important – but as it turned out, he’d made it just in time. Hovering beside Lisa, he tried to listen to the nurse’s briefing as closely as possible. Once again, he found himself grateful for Lisa’s presence – for her asking the questions so he didn’t have to. And then the nurse mentioned the ICU, and Wren felt as though somebody had just slapped him in the face.

He’d known Theo had been in a really bad condition when the paramedics had taken him, had even worried about him dying, but he hadn’t realised just how close to it he must have been. If he’d been late back, even fifteen minutes late, if he’d had another drink at lunch or if he’d missed his train…

Wren stumbled into a seat, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. He looked down, at his shoes, at the tiled floor, because he sure as hell couldn’t look at Lisa. Theo could have died. He could have died. The only reason he hadn’t was because of sheer dumb luck.

And it was all his fucking fault.

Lisa was clearly having the same thought.

He glanced over at her sharply as she addressed him, then back at the floor, closing his eyes briefly as he made an attempt at composing himself. The despair and anxiety which had set in the moment he’d found Theo was changing, twisting into something harder. Sharper. Angrier. But also more determined.

“We had a fight,” he said after a long moment, still staring at his shoes. “After you left. He didn’t want us meeting, and he lied to me about it. I needed some space, so I went to get lunch with a friend. I knew he wasn’t feeling well, but I didn’t realise how bad it was. I wouldn’t have left him if I’d known.”

He paused. Curled his hands into fists. Set his jaw. “And I’m not leaving him now.”

Taking a deep, measured breath, he looked across to meet Lisa’s eyes. “Your son is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I don’t care that he’s sick. I don’t care that he’s only going to get worse. I don’t love him in spite of that. I love him because of it. He wouldn’t be him otherwise. Nobody seems to understand that and it drives me crazy.”

After a beat, Wren sighed and glanced away again, over to the reception desk.

“Did he tell you how we met? Not through my sister, I mean. The real story.”

Walking into the ICU was a vastly different experience from her time in general medicine.

It was quiet, for one. There was none of the hustle and bustle of nurses chatting and laughing, none of the coming and going of families and friends. Instead there were hushed voices, bright lights, and the whirring of machines. Machines that beeped, machines that wheezed, machines that hummed with the low frequency of a vacuum. The octagonal nurse’s station was replaced by a long, empty hallway that echoed their steps, the marching of her shoes the loudest sound in the wing. The nurses sat in little nooks inset into their patient’s room, none turning to look as they walked by. During the three hour wait she’d read online that the ratio of nurses to patients was one to one, which had seemed reassuring at the time. Now, when she peered into the rooms of the ICU patients, hooked up and sustained by various machines, she understood why.

At the end of the hall was a large window, overlooking the dark grounds of the hospital. They were a storey above a walled garden, with what looked to be a small pond in the middle. The city seemed to sprout up beyond the border of golden leafed trees, buildings studded by brightly lit windows, and in the sky a spotlight moved lazily across the low slung clouds.

It was comforting, in a way. To be reminded that life continued on beyond this hospital’s walls, that the sun still set and the moon still rose each night to take its place.

Wren walked beside her, reverberating a tense, anxious energy that was something altogether new from the defeated husk of a man he’d been before their talk. She looked up at him, and reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly in hers.

Their conversation from the waiting room was still fresh in her mind.

“No. He only told me you met through your sister.” She supposed that it hadn’t been a complete lie. But straddling the line between lie and truth had always been one of Theo’s specialties.

“She made me go to a depression support group,” he’d told her. “Theo was there too, and when he spoke it was like he understood me.” He looked at his hands when he spoke. Wren’s voice was soft, with just the barest wisp of a fond smile penetrating his serious expression. She tried to picture their meeting, and came up short. 

“The next day I went over to his house and fell in love.”

She couldn’t wrap her head around it. The story Wren told sounded nothing like her son, who she knew to be a funny smart ass who refused to admit weakness, even to his own detriment. The teenager who liked to meet her at lunch time to browse the racks at Barneys and gossip about the goings on at work and school. The obstinate, funny child who liked to belt out Killing Me Softly when she got home from a long day at work just to make her laugh. Who liked art but would cry when he got paint on his skin. When she thought of him alone in Cannon Beach, it hurt to realize he’d been unable to find comfort anywhere but a rundown church in rural Oregon.

Her worry must have shown. 

 “I don’t think he was clinically depressed, if it helps. I think he was just kind of lonely,” Wren offered then. She straightened, relaxed her face and smiled at him. She appreciated his honesty.

It also shed new light on Wren. His break from work made more sense now, his return home to take some time to focus on his mental health. It helped fill in the gaps from Theo’s half baked explanation. She still wasn’t sure why he was returning to Cannon Beach, not when he’d lived in New York long enough to be considered a native.

“So what about you. Is that why you left Deloitte?” She’d asked, and he’d nodded. Told her it was meant to be temporary, until he’d met Theo. Then his plans had changed. 

She turned their conversation over in her mind as they walked down that silent hall. Earlier in the evening Ruby had stopped by with dinner and two proper coffees, along with a few items she’d picked up for Theo. She’d sat with them for a while, speaking with Wren like she’d known him for years. It was a talent of hers, and one Lisa coveted. When it was nearing nine o’clock at night, she’d sent her home.

The waiting room seemed pleasant, compared to this. The automatic doors slid open as they approached, and she was finally reunited with her son.

It was somehow just as she expected, and a hundred times worse.

He looked peaceful, at the very least. An improvement on the agitated, confused Theo she’d gone to lunch with. But that was the only real comfort. She’d been told he was on a ventilator, but she hadn’t been prepared for the long, blue tube snaking from his mouth and slung over his shoulder. A smaller one joined it, which Ashley explained was just for delivering nutrition. He already hadn’t been eating for a few days, and they expected him to be unresponsive for a few more.

There were more – one taped to his neck, a red one in his arm, one from his surgery to drain the fluid from his chest, one for the catheter, one for IV and one for medicine. Theo’s nurse listed off his vitals and she did her best to listen, but she could only watch as Wren sunk into the seat beside the bed and took her son’s hand in his. 

I’m not leaving him now.

She swallowed, and then looked towards Ashley.

“Can I -” she started to say, before clearing her throat and digging through the Barneys bag to pull out the pair of soft, cashmere socks Ruby had picked up.

“His feet always get cold in hospitals, is all. Is that okay?”

Ashley smiled. “Of course. I’ll leave you two for now, but I’m just outside.”

She watched as she left, then stared at Theo.

She’d read online that sedated patients could often hear what was going on around them. She wanted to say something, to tell him that she loved him and to assure him that he wasn’t alone. But as she stared at him, watching the way the machine moved his chest up and down, she found that she wasn’t sure what to say.

Waiting was supposed to be the hard part, like she’d told him. But she wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Wren,” she started, and then fell silent.

“Here,” she said, and handed him the socks. “Please. His feet always get cold.”

She pulled out the cashmere throw, a pale green threaded with yellow, and draped it over his shoulders, making sure not to touch any of the medical equipment around him.

Finally, she sunk down in the chair on the other side of the room, slipping off her heels and resting her head against the wall.

 ----

It was Saturday morning, and Roger had made it down to the city to visit. She couldn’t blame him too much – he hated driving in the city and didn’t like taking public transit. At 79, he was still active, but had lost a lot of his fire. 

There was also the fact that he and Theo hadn’t spoken for about two years. 

She was grateful. Thursday night had been touch and go, both for her and Wren, and more importantly for Theo. Every beep had sent them into panic mode, but the nice thing about having a nurse just outside was that help had never been too far away. Ashley had been amazing, taking the time to explain what was going on at each moment. His blood pressure sensor had slipped once, his oxygen low at one point. His fever had only started subsiding this morning. But she’d fixed him up. She’d even woken them up at 5:30 Friday morning to tell them the meningitis test had come back negative.

Lisa met Roger at the entrance of the hospital, where he stood waiting with his wool coat slung over his arm. He was still handsome, even now. He had greying hair that he always kept neat, and clear blue eyes he’d thankfully passed onto both their children (her’s were a dark, murky brown). He always dressed tidily, though conservatively. They greeted each other with a one armed hug and a perfunctory kiss to her cheek, before they set off for the ICU.

“He’s doing well, considering. If his counts stay up they’ll extubate him today,” she told him as they walked, handing him the tray of teas and coffees she’d picked up before meeting. “Apparently he’s fighting the ventilator, which is a good sign.”

“It is,” he agreed. She looked at her husband, expecting him to say more, and continued.

“His MS specialist came by last night but he can’t confirm any immune activity until he wakes up and they get an MRI. Hopefully it’s been okay.”

She glanced at him, and he shrugged. Her husband was so much like Theo, a fact neither would admit to. They were both stubborn, with equally quick tempers. But Theo had his nose, along with his clear, blue eyes. His hair was thinning and gray, but Theo had the texture and colour of younger Roger Ronstadt. His face was thinning too, but his high cheekbones still maintained a certain youthfulness. His sense of humour, even, although it was rare to appear in Roger. They both liked to appraise facts before making decisions, though once they’d decided to act, they would do so with fanatical enthusiasm.

They were both emotional as hell, to the point where their two year long grudge had long lasted its welcome among the rest of the family.  

“It wouldn’t have killed you to come sooner.”

He smiled then, looking at her for the first time since they’d greeted each other at the door. “You don’t know that, Lisa.”

She laughed, shaking her head as she dug through her purse for her phone. “Jesus, you two are one and the same.” Pulling it out, she found she had a few missed calls, about a dozen emails. She scrolled through them as they walked, ensuring nothing was urgent. They were waved to the ICU, and she shook off any offers of help to direct them there. After a few minutes of not speaking, she finally broached the topic they were both avoiding. 

“You should know, his boyfriend is there. His name is Wren.” She warned, then shrugged, scrolling casually through her phone. “He met him in Oregon, actually. He’s a lawyer, used to work at Deloitte here in Manhattan. And he went to Harvard. You might actually get along with this one. He hasn’t left Theo’s side since he was admitted.”

“I’m sure we’ll have a lot in common,” Roger said. “We can talk about the first time I heard Dancing Queen on the radio back in the seventies. Or maybe about the last time I wore a feather boa. The conversation will flow after that.” 

She snorted, smiling ruefully. There wasn’t any sense in getting upset, he was incorrigible. 

“When exactly was the last time you wore a boa? What colour was it?” 

He coughed, and shook his head.

“When I got into med school at Harvard. I had the better part of a bottle of Crown Royal in me,” he said gruffly, shooting her a sly smile. “It was lavender.” 

She laughed again, genuinely this time. 

 Dr. Ronstadt was well known at New York Presbyterian. He’d been the Chief of Oncology/Hematology until 2012, and still taught at NYU after his retirement. He was well respected in his field, and a frequent visitor of both the ICU and palliative care here in the hospital. The nurses greeted him warmly, and Lisa ushered him to the end of the hall once he’d stopped a little too long to chat. When they entered Theo’s room, old habits apparently died hard as he immediately went for Theo’s chart and beckoned their nurse inside. 

As Ashley briefed him Lisa went to stand by Wren, laying a hand on his shoulder. He looked exhausted, not reacting to Roger one ounce, likely assuming he was another doctor. She took the tray from her husband, handing him a large peppermint tea, and pulling out a packaged breakfast sandwich from her purse she knew he wouldn’t eat. She squeezed his shoulder, watching Theo in bed. He looked somehow worse, but also somehow better. He looked smaller, though she was sure that was just due to the continued absence of his presence. He also seemed like he was regaining some colour.

“He looks better, doesn’t he?” She whispered, and Roger glanced at them, before directing his attention back to Theo’s chart. 

“He is better, from when he was admitted at least. Oxygen is good, blood pressure good. White blood cell count is still a little shaky, but better than it was. Signs all point to him being extubated today. Recovery will be slow, of course. But that’s to be expected with pneumonia. It’s a bitch of an infection.”

He flipped the chart closed, and hung it from the bed. He then patted his pockets, which Lisa knew to be Roger’s sign that he was preparing to leave. 

“You can stay, Roger. I’m sure Theo would appreciate it.”

He paused, and stared at their son for a short moment, before shaking his head and walking towards the doors. 

“No, I need to get going. I wouldn’t want to unintentionally cause a disturbance especially given the circumstances. If he wants to talk, he has my number.” 

-----

There was the pressure on his chest that brought him to the present. A heavy thing sitting right on his sternum, but it didn’t hurt. Well, maybe a little, when he tried to inhale deeply. He ached deeply on his right side, and when he tried to sit up it sent something sharp and stabbing through his chest. He was cold, too. His skin was covered in ants, crawling up and down his legs. 

Then, slowly, a tingling in his hands. He felt like he needed to get up, a sudden urgency to check the time, text his mom, call Wren to let him know he was okay. Tell someone where he was. But he couldn’t lift his head, and his arms were too heavy. He wasn’t sure where his feet were. He licked his lips, an ineffectual swipe of his dry tongue over flaking, chapped lips. 

And he was thirsty. His throat hurt like hell, like he’d been punched in the windpipe, or someone had taken the tines of a fork and scratched up the insides. A drink of water would help, but he didn’t know where he could get it.  

The room came into focus slowly, even as he struggled to open his heavy eyes. It didn’t make any sense - it wasn’t the hotel, but it wasn’t his bedroom either. Was he still in the hospital? There was a strange graphic of a tropical beach in technicolour adhered to the ceiling. It felt mesmerizing, as if the water was moving, eating up the shore with the swell of the tide. When he felt able to, he angled his head to the side, eyes following the string attached to his arm (it itched like hell - he wanted to pull it out) up to what he knew to be an IV pole. 

He tried to sit up again, and winced as another sharp pain shot through his chest. He didn’t know what to do - he was alone, and nobody had come to help him yet. He was helpless, and in some pain. And nobody cared. 

Trying to stem the panic before it overwhelmed him, he tried to slow down his thoughts, and reached up to try to touch the IV pole. Maybe he could roll it closer and use it to help stand. But his left hand wouldn’t cooperate, and when he looked down, he saw another’s hand intertwining his. 

His frown softened, when he followed the arm to the body, and then to the face of the person asleep in the chair. It was Wren, whose eyes were closed, lashes dark against his skin. He was slumped in the chair, arm tucked in against his body. 

“Wren,” he said, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. He winced from the effort, and with his good hand, the one the tubes were attached to, reached over to grasp his hand and squeeze it as best he could. 

“Wren,” He repeated, louder this time. It hurt, he thought he could taste copper and iron. He thought he’d been alone - he'd felt so, so alone. As Wren stirred, his eyes shot open, and Theo felt the relief flood through him like a warm current. He was so, so thankful he was here.

He hadn’t realized he’d been crying until he felt the tear fall against his cheek. He wanted to get up and hug him, bury his face in his chest and breathe him in. But he couldn't.

“I’m sorry." He said, his voice hoarse, whispery. He could barely hear himself, so he had to say it again. "I’m so sorry.”

Walking into the ICU, his hand grasping Lisa’s like a vice, was easily the hardest thing Wren had ever had to do.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been… this.

Theo looked so small. So still. Stiller than he was in sleep, an unnatural quietude forced onto him through sedation. The tangle of tubes connected to him made him look smaller, somehow, like they were consuming him instead of sustaining him, and Wren had a sudden urge to rip them all out and take Theo home.

He shouldn’t be here. It wasn’t fair.

It was his fault.

Pulling away from Lisa, he crossed over to the side of Theo’s bed, where someone had set up a chair. He sat, and took Theo’s hand, gently cupping it in his own. The nurse, Ashley, was talking, but he couldn’t hear her over the whirr of the ventilator. It didn’t matter. They just had to wait. He would wait as long as he needed to.

It took him a moment to realise Lisa was talking to him, handing him a pair of socks her assistant had brought with her. He didn’t ask why she didn’t slip them on Theo herself, just nodded and took them. He would be her rock. She would be his. That was all they could do now.

Thursday night bled into Friday morning. Lisa didn’t stay. Wren had the impression she would have, were it not for him. It was strange. He’d been so sure she’d wanted him to leave that it was bizarre to think she wasn’t. He should have felt honoured that she trusted him enough to leave him with Theo, but there wasn’t any space for that. There was only this room, the beeping of the life-giving machines, the bed, Theo’s quiet, still body occupying too little space.

The nurse told him he could try talking to Theo, and he did, when they were alone. He told him stories he’d heard before, about growing up in Cannon Beach, about getting Robin out of trouble as children and helping Lydia in the garden. It was harder to talk about more recent times, to face the memory of Theo alive and well, always animated, never at rest, but he made an attempt -- do you remember our first date in Portland? You looked like you wanted to eat me alive. I wanted to take you home then and there.

Still, there were things he wanted to tell him which he couldn’t. Speaking them aloud made them too real.

Time slipped onwards, punctuated not by hours or minutes, but by people passing through. The nurses, sometimes, taking measurements and performing routine tasks, and doctors, to check on his recovery. He slept a little, but not well, dozing on his chair and waking up in fits and starts. Lisa and Ruby brought him food which tasted of nothing, and a blanket of his own. Things happened in a haze. The hotel phoned to let him know they were able to extend his stay until Sunday night. Ruby got the travel agent to postpone their flights. He had the same conversations with different people -- Scotty, calling to ask if he should drop by (Wren told him not to); Katie, who sent a card signed by Angie and Will too; Robin, telling him to get some sleep; his mom and dad, worried but trying not to sound it. He even met Theo’s father, though he didn’t realise it until he’d almost left.

He wanted to tell Theo everything, but he couldn’t, not yet. It could wait until he woke up.

He held his hand instead.

Wren had fallen asleep again, curled up in this chair he’d barely left, which had become a second home. In his dream, he was in Theo’s house in Cannon Beach, standing on the deck, looking out at the Sitka spruces and Douglas firs. He held Violet in his arms and watched an eagle soar over the trees. He should have felt at home, but instead, he felt lost.

He wondered what the eagle was thinking. How it felt, to fly, to be lifted by thermals and glide over the coast, for everything in sight to look like prey. For a moment, he was an eagle -- could see himself standing there, stark against the big, empty house -- and then it was gone, and he was on the deck again, alone.

Violet wriggled in his arms and he stooped to put her down. She disappeared, slinking off back into the house, and he turned to follow, only to freeze at the sensation of somebody squeezing his hand.

He woke with a start, disoriented for a moment, until he saw him -- Theo, lying down, eyes open and looking at him, awake, holding onto him as though his life depended on it. Wren was out of his chair in an instant, kneeling by his bedside, pressing a kiss to his forehead, to his cheeks, wiping his tears away with the hand not clutching Theo’s.

“Shh,” he said, and he was crying too, he noticed, tears he hadn’t been able to shed before spilling out. “Theo, shut up.”

Squeezing his hand, he sat back and tried to smile, even though all he wanted to do was weep. He hadn’t realised how scared he’d been until then, that Theo might not wake up.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, softly. “Do you want anything? Water? Juice?”

Waking up to Wren next to him was the best thing in the world. 

It was overwhelming. Comforting. Too much. But, good. 

He kept his eyes on Wren’s face when he knelt before him, drinking him in, squeezing his hand tighter around his fingers the best he could, trying to offer him some amount of comfort. He tilted his head towards him, an action which required a vast amount of energy, eyes closing briefly as he felt him press kiss after kiss to his face.

It was the best thing in the world. 

When he opened his eyes again, he saw the tears in Wren’s eyes. He’d never let him see him cry before. Not really. His cheeks were wet again, the tears welling up in his eyes overflowing. He wished Wren would join him in bed, where they could watch the ocean together and Theo could feel his hands on his body, pulling him closer. 

His thumb soft against his skin, brushing the tears away, would have to do. 

He smiled when Wren told him to shut up, despite the absolute weariness that weighed his eyelids closed. Wren’s voice cracked when he said it. Theo had meant to laugh, like he always did when that happened, but the breath just wasn’t there. 

But they were both smiling, then. Together. And that was what mattered. 

Wren asked him how he was feeling, and if he wanted anything. The room seemed too small for his wants, the bed too big. It seemed like an impossible question to answer.

“My throat hurts,” he whispered, finally. It was the easiest thing to say. The easiest problem to fix. And then he closed his heavy eyes, falling silent as he listened to the sounds of the room, the beeping and the soft voices outside. It was drowned out by the feeling of his hand in Wren’s. 

“When can we go home?” He asked after a while, and when Wren smiled his tight, watery-eyed smile, Theo felt like crying some more. He felt Wren’s hand squeeze his, and it was all the answer he needed. 

The nurse came into the room shortly after. She spoke for a while, but he wasn’t sure what she said, and he stared at Wren while she was there. She told him he had pneumonia. That he’d been on a ventilator for a few days, that was probably why his throat hurt. Wren stared at him while she spoke, and Theo found he only wanted to look at his face. She pressed a button that made the room lurch, made him lose his breath, before he was sitting up a little. He was coughing, which made him want to throw up, made it feel like an anvil had dropped onto his chest. The lights swam, and his vision almost went black. She asked if he could move his toes, and he tried. She asked him to squeeze her hands, and he had to let go of Wren’s to do so. She wrote something down. She asked about his pain, and he looked at Wren, like he had the answers. He stared back at him with his red, wet eyes.

He considered it, for a moment. 

“Seven, maybe.” A slow inhale, to test it. “I’m not really sure.” 

She smiled, reached over to press a button to one of the lines. “We’ll take care of that. It’s important that you focus on getting some rest.” 

She said a few more words, more to Wren than himself. Which was fine, really. He was quite tired, actually. Despite having rested for … Oh, who knew how long. 

Finally, she came up close and slipped something from his face – something to help him breathe, he knew – and lifted his head to allow her to wrap something around his head. Quickly, he felt something pushing into his skin. A mask, or something. It hurt, and then it didn’t. Nothing did. He felt weightless, his vision clearing up as it got easier to breathe. 

He felt a pressure in his hand, a weight on his shoulder. He looked over, and it was Wren. His hand was in his, his other gentle on his shoulder. 

He looked up at him, slowly smiling as he took him in. His messy hair, his deep, eternally sad, blue eyes, his beautiful skin. The scruff on his cheeks, shadowing his jaw. How he only smiled with teeth when it was with him. That soft crinkle at the corner of his eyes. Like relief. If only Theo could verbalize his gratitude in that moment, his absolute, terrifyingly powerful and all encompassing love he had for him. He was aware of the painkillers slowly coursing their warm current through his body, casting a lovely glow that made him want to sink into the bed. It made it hard to put together a coherent thought. But they seemed to amplify everything else. He felt secure. Safe. Cared for. 

“I love you, Wren,” Theo whispered. "So much." 

A few days passed, judged only by the sun setting outside, and Wren’s coming and goings. He became more and more aware of his wakefulness, of Wren sitting by him. But it had been slow. He spent most of it sleeping, with what felt like brief consciousness that interrupted bizarre, long running dreams. 

The first day he’d felt up to it, the first day he’d properly felt boredom while still lacking the energy to do much of anything, he’d asked if Wren would read to him. In the beginning it was because he’d wanted to give Wren something to do when he’d had no energy to converse, but it had transformed into something else. In a bid for comfort Theo had asked him to read him a novel he’d already read before, but hearing it read to him in Wren’s voice, placing emphasis on verses he’d never thought much of, had turned it into a deeply enjoyable experience. He loved Wren’s voice. It was deep and thoughtful, and he didn’t rush his words and seemed to wrap his tongue around each letter. He read aloud like he might in his head - slowly, like he was digesting every word. He had the same look on his face that he did whenever Theo found him reading back at home - furrowed brow, active eyes, relaxed mouth. It would be the only thing he enjoyed from that hospital bed. 

That, and the flowers. 

The bouquets that seemed to sprout in his unconsciousness had always been a sacred pleasure he’d taken in being hospitalized. It was poorly to think, but the best flowers he got were always from hospital stays, eclipsed only by those Wren picked for him from the woods around his house. Their house, he reminded himself. His and Wren’s house. 

Their home.

“Are you ready?” 

Ashley’s voice came from the door. Theo looked over, glanced at the clock on the wall, and closed the book he was reading. He relished the feel of the pages flipping against his thumb. He didn’t much like this new book, something Ruby had picked up for him from the gift shop, but was deeply grateful that he was able to read it, and not set it down to sleep some more. Boredom was becoming a very real problem. 

“He’ll be here in twenty minutes. He’s never late.” 

She laughed and made a face. “Let’s get to it.”

It had been a day since he’d last seen Wren, the longest period they’d been apart in weeks. The day before, in an odd moment of kindness, his mom had offered - or rather demanded - that Wren stay at her place while they were still in New York. As he understood it now, he’d been sedated for a little over three days, and Wren had stayed by his side for the duration and then some. 

He couldn’t begin to put his gratitude into words. Nobody had ever done anything like this for him before. He didn’t like thinking about it, to be honest. That he’d put Wren into this situation. But he couldn’t deny that it made him feel better about this whole fiasco. Safer. 

So, he decided staying at his mom’s apartment a good thing. Wren deserved it, and he was glad he was finally able to take a break.

Meanwhile, he’d been busy. His first and second walk around the ward had been with a team of medical professionals: a respirational therapist, a physical therapist, and an RN. Since he was only left with an oxygen line, central line, the chest tube, and an NG tube, he might be able to take a walk on his own, with Wren. He was done with the steroids for the MS symptoms and all their side effects – the bloating, the metallic taste it left in his mouth. The itching burn left over in his veins. He’d been going to the bathroom by himself as well, after getting the catheter removed (thankfully Wren hadn’t been present for that - he vaguely remembered telling the student nurse that she had soft hands). 

Ashley checked his counts, recounting the numbers as she read them. Theo nodded along. The only thing that gave her pause was when she frowned after his oxygen counts. But he was cleared, and she went about setting up his walker, with the oxygen tank and various lines needed to keep him from leaking fluids everywhere. 

“One, two … Three.” 

Theo swung his legs over the side of the bed, eyes clenching shut with the suddenness of the vertigo. He took a deep breath to steady himself, trying to remember the exercises he’d done with the therapist, followed by a coughing fit, which by now was predictable. Ashley had a hand at his waist, and when he was ready, pushed himself up so he was standing. The strain on his thighs was immense, just from being in bed nearly a full week. His chest was tight, and he felt a little light headed. Ashely watched the monitor by the bed for a few minutes, and when she was satisfied she nodded.

“You’re good to go.” 

He stood like that for a few moments, enjoying the pain in his feet, which he could feel, from his heels to his knees, his already aching back, and a profound sense of achievement that was difficult to put into words. 

It wasn’t until Wren showed up in the doorway, in his soft hoodie with the zipper done up halfway and the jeans he liked, did he realize he was smiling. 

When he saw him, Theo laughed. And when he felt suddenly overwhelmed, he covered his face with his hands. 

He didn’t want to cry again. 

Wren had his hand on his lower back as they walked down the hallway of the ICU

He had a walker, with all its accompanied equipment hooked up to it. He wore slippers and bright yellow socks, along with a bracelet that declared he was a fall risk. He wore the hospital gown with a pair of pyjama pants Ruby had picked up for him. 

They were outside in the courtyard after a short elevator ride and a walk down another hallway. He paused when they stepped outside, when he felt the sun on his skin, closing his eyes as the warmth bathed his face, the breeze sifting through his hair. The sound of the city was muffled, but he could hear traffic beyond the rustling leaves of the maples in the courtyard, music coming from car radios. The air even tasted good, despite it being city air. After the stifled atmosphere of the hospital room, it was … Wonderful. 

He was breathing heavily by the time Wren led him over to one of the benches. He helped him sit, but didn’t let go of his hand, intertwining their fingers instead. Theo rested his head against his shoulder, breathing deeply in an attempt to catch his breath. 

They were alone. He wouldn’t have a doctor or nurse or specialist interrupt his time with Wren every fifteen minutes. He was free, for the first time in a week. He was thinking clearly, he was somewhat mobile. He could feel his independence coming back. He felt like a human again, and knew he’d be able to leave the hospital sometime soon. This feeling alone motivated him to start working harder. 

This came with other problems, of course. There were words unsaid between him and Wren, and while Theo truthfully didn’t remember much about what he’d said to Wren the day of their fight, he knew why they’d fought. Wren meeting his mom had been hanging over him since he’d known this was something real (which was quite early on). And he knew he’d handled it in the worst possible way. 

He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say, how he wanted to apologize. He’d tell Wren he’d been anxious about them meeting because his mom never approved of his boyfriends and he thought she would judge him for being unemployed. He’d worried he wouldn’t be able to handle himself around her, but he shouldn’t have doubted him. He knew he was smart and capable but he hadn’t given him enough credit and that he was sorry for that. He’d tell him he was anxious to see her himself, because he’d started using a cane since the last time they’d been together, and he’d known she’d be upset when she found out. 

He knew what he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to start. It was truly beautiful outside, warm but with a cool breeze shuffling through the orange and golden leaves of the maples, and he should have felt some sense of ease for the first time in days. But he was still anxious. He tugged at the neck of his hospital gown, and Wren pulled away, worry furrowing his brow. 

“I’m okay,” Theo said, addressing his unspoken question. He smiled then, looking away. “I just wish they didn’t make hospital gowns out of polyester. Cashmere would be a better choice.” 

Wren laughed, and Theo smiled in response. It gave him the courage he needed. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about what happened, before all this.” He breathed, before looking up at him, squeezing his hand. “I wanted to tell you how ..."

The clatter of heels on concrete had him pausing his thought. It couldn’t be her. But then he heard his mother’s voice, and he felt the sinking feeling of defeat, coupled with immense frustration. He’d only wanted a few minutes with Wren. A few precious moments of privacy that he'd worked so hard to get. 

“There you are!” She called. As she came closer he knew he wasn’t having another opioid induced hallucination, since there was no mistaking the massive crocodile Birkin slung over her shoulder, or the way the back of her heels flashed Louboutin red in the warm afternoon sun.

“Ashley told me you were out on a walk and I couldn’t believe it. You’re up! Oh, Teddy, I’m so happy for you.” To her credit, she sounded genuinely pleased, and almost emotional. She was pursing her lips, hands outstretched awkwardly. Tentatively he reached out, and she gripped both his hands tightly in hers. It was an odd sensation. When she was done with him, she sighed, smiling fondly at Wren, squeezing his shoulder. 

“You look worlds better after a good night’s sleep. What a difference.” To Theo, she added, “Wren slept about fourteen hours straight last night. Not that he doesn’t deserve it, with what he’s been through.”

Theo managed a smile, looking at Wren. “That must be a record.” 

“I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done for Theo and I, and since I figure you haven’t been able to have a proper meal in about a week I made reservations at Le Coucou for tonight. It’s a little much but I think we deserve a treat.” 

Wren looked at Theo, and he faltered, lost for words. He wasn’t sure how to feel - or rather, he felt everything at once, and wasn’t sure how to sort through the sudden influx. Trepidation at Wren and Lisa spending more time together, anxiety at the thought of spending the evening alone, jealousy that he wouldn’t be able to join them. He tore his attention away from his wrist, where he still had the arterial catheter taped into his skin, the bracelet that exclaimed he was a fall risk, and smiled at Wren, as encouragingly as he could despite the sudden rush of anxiety. 

Maybe this would do as an apology, for now. Words didn’t count for much if his actions didn’t back them up. 

“That sounds like a good idea." Theo said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt. "You deserve a good meal. Besides, I’m still trying to get through Tender is the Night. With any luck it’ll help me get some sleep tonight.” 

Wren waited for the nurse to leave before pulling his chair up as close to the bed as he could get it. Resting his elbows on the mattress, he took Theo’s hand, taking great care to avoid the IV, and watched him drift off as the sedative did its work.

He didn’t know whether he wanted to laugh or cry. It was just unfair, having him then losing him again. He’d been worried, obviously, but more than that -- he hadn’t realised how much he’d just missed him, and while he’d known their reunion was going to be fleeting, he hadn’t understood how much harder the wait was going to be after getting him back once already.

He could be patient, though. Despite everything, this was so much better than the alternative.

One minute it was the middle of the night and they were alone, and the next he was being gently shaken awake. Someone had opened the blinds and the room was filled with a warm, natural light. He thought he could even hear birdsong, though he could have (must have, surely) been imagining that. His neck and back hurt like hell, and he didn’t remember falling asleep, but none of that mattered. It was still the best he’d slept in a very long time.

Theo was still out, but the person who had woken him up was Lisa, armed with coffee and what looked like a breakfast burrito. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. It was easier than normal. And although she’d been incredibly composed throughout all of this anyway, Wren could sense she felt it too.

Ashley had almost certainly gotten her up to speed, but as he sipped on the coffee he told her what had happened again anyway.

“You should go back to your hotel and get some rest,” she told him.

He was about to object -- he didn’t want to leave now, not when Theo might wake up again at any moment -- but even he had to admit a shower and actual sleep in an actual bed sounded good. Especially since he wouldn’t have it for much longer -- he’d have to check out in… shit. It was Sunday. He’d have to check out in just a few hours. That answered that.

“Maybe later,” he said ruefully. “We’ve only got the suite until today, so I need to pack up and take everything over to my friend’s place in Queens.”

Lisa frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. You should stay with me. My apartment is much closer and I have a spare room.”

“But--” he said, starting to protest, only to be immediately cut off.

“Wren, please. I’ll have Ruby give you a set of keys. She’ll meet you at the hotel and help you move.”

A few hours later, Wren was in Lisa Ronstadt’s apartment, wondering how the hell this had happened to him.

Lisa’s apartment was everything he’d expected it to be, but somehow more. It didn’t even really look lived in, not like Theo’s house -- it could have been a set in a movie, with its perfectly matching furniture all upholstered in immaculate cream. As Ruby showed him around, pointing out the essentials, he became uncomfortably aware of just how grimy he was. He wouldn’t be able to touch anything until he scrubbed it all off, out of fear of leaving a stain.

He jumped in the shower as soon as he was alone. The plan was to get clean, change, and go back to the hospital, because he wanted to be there when Theo woke up again, but when he got out, he realised he’d underestimated how tired he was. Well… he was here now, and the bed was right there. A nap couldn’t hurt, right?

He napped for fourteen hours.

Theo was walking and nobody had told him. It was weird, how something so mundane, something he’d fully taken for granted, could suddenly be so monumental. But he’d been awake for two days and he was on his feet already and arriving at his room to see him smiling and actually laughing was more than Wren could have ever hoped for.

He made Theo come to him, obviously. And then he wrapped him in the biggest hug he could.

Ashley suggested a walk around the courtyard, which sounded like a great idea. There was so much Wren wanted to say to him, but he didn’t know where to start, how to articulate a lot of it, whether now was a good time, if there ever would be one. How to say, I missed you, I’m sorry, I was so scared, I thought you were going to die, and not have it sound trite? Was there even a need to speak it out loud? They would need to talk about this eventually, probably, even if only because Theo would want to, but to be honest a selfish part of him just wanted to ignore all of that. Theo was awake and he was mobile and maybe they could pretend that things were normal, just for now, while they could.

For such a nice day, the courtyard was surprisingly empty, but that suited him fine. It was almost like being back in Cannon Beach, sitting on Theo’s deck, looking out at Ecola State Park. Almost like his dream. He closed his eyes, settled against Theo, pressed a kiss to the top of his head, squeezed his hand. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t normal. Maybe it would never be again. Maybe it didn’t matter.

Theo shifted, cracked a joke about cashmere, catching Wren so off-guard he laughed more than he should have, only to stop suddenly at the expression on Theo’s face. It made him ache.

“Theo... “ he started, wanting to tell him they didn’t have to talk about this now, when they were interrupted anyway. Lisa always knew how to make an entrance. He was grateful for her appearance, kind of, though her arrival seemed to impact on Theo, who suddenly looked a little more subdued.

It occurred to Wren that this was the first time all three of them had been together since he had accidentally gatecrashed their brunch (at least the first time where everybody was conscious), which seemed like a lifetime ago. That was weird to think about. Normally he wouldn’t have hesitated to accept a dinner invitation -- or at least, his reasons for hesitating would have been much different -- but given what had happened after that brunch... he glanced at Theo, trying to gauge where his head was at. At the end of the day, if he wanted him to stay that evening, he would stay. But it didn’t sound like he had any objections. And dinner might be nice. Lisa was right -- they did deserve it.

Wren smiled at him and squeezed his knee. “If Ashley says it’s okay, I’ll bring you back some food,” he promised.

Ashley said it was okay, but maybe she wouldn’t have if she’d known exactly what the food at Le Coucou was like. (Wren had to believe she didn’t know, because if she had, surely she would have warned him?)

Really, this was on him. He should have googled the restaurant, or at least told Lisa he didn’t like fish, and also tried not to eat most meats, and also had the palate of a five-year-old, but he hadn’t done any of that. The only thing he’d done right was to crack out his suit again, because he’d had a feeling Lisa’s idea of decent food would involve somewhere with a dress code, but he almost wished he hadn’t bothered to, just for an excuse not to have to eat here.

Half of him was tempted to let Lisa order for him, but the other half of him knew that had the potential to go very badly wrong, so he settled for the least offensive things he could find -- poireaux, which looked like the only non-meaty thing on the menu, and ris de veau a l’estragon, which he thought may have been non-meaty but was in fact very meaty (apparently a ‘sweetbread’ was not a sweet bread, which, what the fuck) -- and just hoped for the best. At the very least, it would make a good story for Theo, whom he desperately wished could have joined them.

Lisa was good company though, despite the food, and it was nice to sit down with her and have an actual conversation outside of a stressful brunch or, well, the hospital. She was easy to talk to, and they did turn out to have a lot in common aside from work, though that was where they inevitably ended up anyway. He had been sort of apprehensive about it, considering the last thing he’d told her about his job is that he’d had to quit it, but she tactfully didn’t bring that up. Instead, she asked him a bit more about his career and what he’d enjoyed about Deloitte, and recounted a few stories about Carina dating back to their law school years, one of which almost made him choke on his wine.

In a bid to try to preserve his image of his ex-boss, he got his phone out to show her a few of the job listings he’d been thinking of applying to in Portland, and although she didn’t seem too impressed -- he had the feeling she still couldn’t wrap her head around why he wasn’t considering staying in New York -- she wasn’t exactly discouraging either. She told him about how DRW was expanding, and mentioned he should drop by the office sometime that week for lunch, and he’d agreed.

Somehow he managed to eat almost all of his food, and they parted ways at eight -- Lisa headed home, and Wren went back to the hospital with the food he’d promised Theo (he’d asked for lamb, but the closest thing was the côte d’agneau grillée, oignon farçi, which Wren hoped was okay).

When he got to Theo’s room, he could hear talking from behind the door. He pushed it open, ready with a joke about how he must be feeling better if he had enough strength to face The Bachelor, but the TV screen was quite resolutely blank. The voice had actually belonged to a woman -- mid-twenties, long blonde hair, wearing expensive-looking clothes and an even more expensive-looking ring. Wren paused, taken off-guard as he tried to figure out who she was. Something about her seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place it. He was sure they hadn’t met before. Maybe he’d seen her at the Honey! afterparty? Would one of Theo’s old friends really have come to visit?

“Uh… hi,” he said after a moment, then held up the bag. “I brought dinner?”

Theo woke up to a nurse standing over him, drawing blood from the catheter in his arm.  Accustomed to the interruptions in his sleep by now, he wearily offered up his arm for her to take blood from. As she reviewed his numbers, he noticed a frown spreading across her face, but before he could ask why a porter came by with his dinner. He must have been asleep for some time, and checking the clock on the wall, he noticed it was a record three uninterrupted hours. The man rolled over the bed tray and set the plate down, and Theo had to stop himself from looking disappointed. He peered skeptically at the offerings of flaccid green beans from a can, thawed corn kernels, a dinner roll with packaged butter, and an ominously grey slice of meat slathered in a brown sauce. 

“Thank you,” he called after the porter, as he hustled through the door to make the rest of his deliveries. He knew better than to ask for anything else. And if he didn’t eat it, he’d get the NG tube back. 

Wren had offered to bring him something from the restaurant, he reminded himself. He had that to look forward to. 

He set his book down in his lap. Try as he might, the only option that didn’t send his stomach rolling with nausea was the bread roll, so he started with that, fumbling with the package of butter in an attempt to get it open. 

A movement from the door distracted him, and he looked up, expecting a nurse or a doctor. However, standing in the doorway was perhaps the last person he expected to be visiting him in the hospital.

(Not entirely true - that would have to be his dad, or Ben perhaps. Or a list of ten or fifteen other people).

“Em?” He asked, not hiding his surprise. She smiled uncomfortably, shifting in the doorway.

He barely recognized his sister. He hadn’t seen her in two years, after all. She looked older, he realized rather stupidly, as she stood by the door, holding a Wholefoods shopping bag clutched in one hand. She looked like she’d walked out of a Kate Spade catalogue. So, not everything had changed. 

Emily smiled, but didn’t come closer. He concluded that she did look older than her 24 years, although he couldn’t pinpoint how exactly. 

“You look like you’ve been hit by a train,” she said, finally.

Theo laughed despite himself, and then winced sharply. They’d never been close, with Theo essentially leaving home at twelve to attend boarding school, but trading insults brought him back to their childhood together. 

“You look like you walked off the set of Gossip Girl.” 

She smirked, and when she didn’t come closer he beckoned her over, nodding towards Wren’s chair. 

“You can come in, I’m not contagious anymore,” he said, only noting then how hoarse his voice still was. 

She walked into his room, eyeing the remaining machines he was hooked up to. As she sat down, she pulled the Wholefoods bag up into her lap and dug around inside. “I remember how bad the food is here after having Hudson, so I brought you a few things. Mixed nuts, a box of granola bars… Dry shampoo. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Theo responded. He opened his mouth to say more, but wasn’t really sure how to explain the rest. How he was tired all the time. How when he did sleep, his dreams were bizarre and sometimes terrifying. How breathing without the cannula strapped to his face was all but impossible. How frustratingly slow his progress had been. How guilty he felt about Wren. 

He shrugged instead. “The pain meds help.” Emily seemed relieved. 

They talked for a while. He asked about her husband Yates, and her two year old son. He told her about Cannon Beach, and she informed him she had a new job at the Trescott family’s charity as an event coordinator. It was surprisingly nice, and Theo realized it was probably the longest conversation he’d ever had with his sister.

A lull eventually came, Theo took the opportunity to ask if she’d been talking to their mother. 

“No,” A paused, while she sorted through her words. “She called to tell me you had been admitted to the ICU, but not much beyond that. We go for lunch sometimes but Yates thankfully does most of the talking.” A pause. “Why, are you talking to Dad again?” she asked, and Theo laughed. 

“Of course not. Mom said he stopped by, but I think it was more to play former chief and boss around the nurses. It wasn’t out of any concern for me.” 

Emily frowned, and Theo could tell she wanted to admonish him for being hard on Roger. But she didn’t, and he knew why. It was pointless. And he was sick. A familiar tension settled over them then, and Theo fumbled with the bag of almonds and cashews she’d brought him, trying to get it open. When his numb fingers failed him once again, Emily reached over to tear off the seal and peel open the bag for him. Theo paused, feeling strange about this, until she dug around for a cashew and asked her next question, possibly as a distraction. 

“Mom said you have a new boyfriend. Wren? How on Earth did you meet someone in Cannon Beach?” 

Theo looked up, and smiled. He couldn’t help himself. 

“I do. He’s been great, with all of this.” 

“Where is he?” she asked, and Theo had to pause before responding, mulling over his words. He wasn’t sure whether to expect shock, suspicion, or jealousy. If he’d been feeling better, or at least a little more awake, he might have added more mystique to his answer. But, alas. 

“Actually, he’s out with Mom. She took him to dinner because he’s pretty much been here for five days straight.” 

Emily paused mid chew, widening her eyes. “What? That must be a first. She’s never liked any of our partners.” She then composed herself, reaching for another cashew in a perfect mimicry of casual nonchalance. Jealousy, then, Theo thought to himself. It almost made up for how uncomfortable he felt about Wren and his mom spending time together.  

“I don’t mean to sound rude, but … Why does she like him?” she asked, and Theo shrugged and tried not to smile. While her husband Yates was nice and came from a wealthy family, Lisa rarely had much to say about him besides his looks and breed. It was a fair question. 

“He’s a lawyer too. Finance or … Contract law or something. Or consulting. Who knows. But he went to Harvard and really is very smart. But also very charming in an accidental, completely genuine way.” Emily nodded, like his explanation made any sense. And it sort of did, Theo only just realized then. Lisa didn’t like hiring ladder climbers or brown-nosers. 

“Anyway,” he continued, “They run in the same circles. She went to school with his old boss, or something.”

“God. Dad might even like him,” She said, which made Theo want to laugh, but then continued her thought. “You don’t think Mom’s trying to poach him, do you?” 

“What? No. No way. She knows he’s moving in with me.”

Emily shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Mom does what’s best for Mom.”

Theo opened his mouth to reply, but couldn’t find the words to argue. It couldn’t be true, and he wondered if Emily was just trying to get under his skin. But she wasn’t smiling. In fact, she looked pretty serious. It left him with a sinking feeling that he wasn’t really prepared to deal with. 

“Even if she did offer him a job, he loves me too much to accept it.” Theo replied, grinning smugly. 

Emily laughed, and pretended to gag. “It’s good to know you haven’t changed.”

---

Emily stayed for another hour. It was tiring, but he couldn’t think back to a time when it had been this easy just to talk to her. A nurse had stopped by once or twice and had perhaps given him more pain meds, but all the same. They avoided the trouble subjects, like their relationships with their parents. They talked about her son, Hudson. They talked more about Wren and his job in Portland. They’d moved on to what Theo liked about Cannon Beach when Wren walked in. 

He couldn’t help but light up when he saw him. He looked absolutely handsome, wearing the suit he’d bought back in Portland for their first date. Emily looked at Theo, raising her eyebrows in surprise. She likely thought the same. 

“You’re a saint,” said Theo when he handed him dinner, grinning widely. “They brought me something to eat but I don’t even know what animal this came from.” He pushed aside the tray, accepting the clamshell takeout box with both hands. His appetite had returned with a vengeance, and for the first time in at least a week he realized just how hungry he was. 

And Wren had brought him lamb. With a roasted onion, stuffed with something savoury and tasty. 

“This is my sister, Emily. Emily, this is Wren. My wonderful boyfriend.” 

Emily smiled, and stuck out her hand for Wren to shake. “My pleasure.” 

The exchange was bewildering. From the view of his hospital bed, Emily actually seemed to flush when he took her hand, while Wren unconsciously stooped his shoulders in an attempt to meet her eye level. It was a good attempt, but ultimately futile. There was at least a foot difference between the two of them. 

“How was dinner?” Theo asked, while pulling the meat from the bone with his fork. He didn’t even need a knife, it was so tender. 

Wren smiled, the kind where he looked at the floor, and then shrugged. “It was nice spending time with your mom.” He glanced at Emily, then settled on Theo. “But you could have warned me about the menu.” 

Theo laughed, while Emily looked puzzled, possibly by both statements. “What do you mean? Daniel Rose is an internationally acclaimed chef. And a friend, I should add,” she added unnecessarily, while still blushing. 

“Wren doesn’t really eat meat.” Theo supplied, rather diplomatically he thought. “I forgot that French cuisine is basically just that and butter,” he said, and reached out to squeeze his hand, but couldn’t help his grin. 

“I’m sorry,” Theo apologized, and Wren smiled graciously, occupying His Chair that Emily had vacated, before leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“She invited me to her office tomorrow. Is that weird?” Wren asked once he was settled, and Theo felt his smile slide. He felt Emily’s eyes on him, and he tried to subdue the sinking in his stomach. 

“She probably just wants to show off the office,” Emily hypothesized, and Theo found himself grateful for her quick thinking. 

“She just got it renovated,” Theo added. Emily nodded in agreement.

“Anyway, I need to get going. It’s past Hudson’s bedtime and if I’m not there he’ll throw a tantrum. Wren, it was so nice meeting you. Good luck tomorrow.”

She paused on her way out, placing a hand on the door frame. 

“Theo … Call me next time you find yourself back in town. For real, this time.” 

Theo smiled, and decided that he might actually do so. They looked towards the door as she walked down the hall, and he reached for Wren’s hand and exhaled heavily. His fingers closed around his, and Theo rested into his pillow, feeling fairly content. It was warm and soft, and he ran his fingers along his knuckles. 

“God. I haven’t seen her in a few years and it was … Weirdly nice.” He stared at the ceiling, before glancing at Wren. He looked much better, after a decent meal and a good night’s sleep. 

“You look amazing,” he whispered, switching gears. He squeezed his hand as best he could, tugging on the sleeve of his suit. “Very handsome.”  

He was exhausted. His entire mouth felt dry, so Wren fetched him ice chips and water with a straw. He told Theo more about dinner, about how Lisa had been friends with his old boss, and how he’d accidentally ordered sweetbreads for his main, thinking it would be a sweet bread. Theo giggled as he told him it was pancreas, and he laughed even harder when the colour drained from Wren’s face, so hard it made his chest hurt and he had to cough. 

“I’m glad dinner went well, all things considered.”

Theo didn’t have much to tell him in return. He could have told him how it felt getting the NG tube out, but he didn’t think Wren would appreciate a story that largely involved him gagging. Particularly after accidentally eating organ meat. He could have told him about his nap, or his weird dreams about being stuck in a life raft. Or his first pee after getting the catheter out, which involved him standing over the toilet while a nurse held him steady. But it didn’t seem very interesting. 

“Come into bed with me,” Theo whispered instead. “I miss it.” 

With some convincing, Wren carefully eased himself into the narrow hospital. At this moment he didn’t care that he hadn’t showered in nearly a week, or that he still had a tube in his side draining fluid from his lungs. Or that his skin was dry and his lips were chapped and flaking. He lay his head on Wren’s chest, listening to the beating of his heart, and the warmth coming from him. 

“Do you want to watch something?” Wren asked, his voice reverberating in his chest with a low, husky note. “The Bachelorette, maybe?” 

“I love you,” Theo whispered, and looked up at him. He smiled, and then Wren did as well. He tried not to think about Lisa inviting him to her office. About her trying to get Wren to stay in New York, for whatever reason. And he found it was actually quite easy not to do so in that moment, but he suspected it was the painkillers. 

“Don’t sleep here,” Theo warned. “I’m doing better, I think. I’ll be okay by myself.” 

---

He woke up sometime later. The lights were still on but dimmed, which as he learned last night was typical for the ICU, but it was dark outside. Blearily, he glanced at Wren’s chair, where his boyfriend slept upright. His hand remained on the bed, outstretched and open. Theo turned over on his side and laced their fingers together.

He couldn’t begin to describe how good it felt. He pressed his lips to his knuckles, and held his hand against his face as he fell back asleep. 

---

“He was fired from Deloitte. I don’t know Lisa, it just doesn’t bode well.” 

“Everyone gets fired from Deloitte,” Lisa countered, tapping her finger against her phone. “It’s a new-grad factory, Brad, where the old eat the young and the old piss blood. He lasted five years in the shit there, which is four years longer than most. Including Iveys.”

Jana, the morning receptionist, pretended not to listen to the conversation as the two partners lingered by the front desk. She dutifully typed into the scheduling software and took calls, directing inquiries to the various associates and law clerks who worked at DRW. She was good at filtering out distractions, Lisa noted. 

She sighed, setting her phone on the desk. “He wasn’t fired, anyway. He took time off for personal reasons. Family, I think,” she said, before glancing at her phone again, lest Wren called. Security in this building was tight, and she’d forgotten to let the security guard downstairs know she was expecting a visitor who wasn’t on the list.

“You’re the last to fault anyone for that, Brad,” she said softly, tilting her head towards him.. Bradley Woods, who had taken two months off to care for his dying mother, frowned and looked down at his shoes. 

“Meeting him won’t hurt.” Brad admitted, lowering his voice. “But hiring externally is risky, when we already have so many fighting for the position.”

“High risk, high reward,” Lisa smirked, clapping him on the shoulder. 

Theo’s house was different to how Wren remembered it.

Not a lot -- the blankets on the couch were a different colour to what he’d thought, the furniture arranged slightly differently, the view from the deck a little more sparse than the image he conjured when he closed his eyes -- but enough to be unsettling. They’d only been away for a couple of weeks, maybe two and a half. It should have felt like coming home. Instead, it felt like it had been months, and everything was foreign. Days later and Wren was still getting used to it.

The trip back from New York had been exhausting. Although Theo had slept the almost whole way (fitfully, but better than nothing), Wren hadn’t been able to, too filled with nervous energy about something he wasn’t able to pin down to relax at all. By the time the taxi had pulled up to Theo’s house on Radar Road, Wren barely felt human.

He’d paid the driver, dragged the luggage in, and bundled a half-asleep Theo off to bed, barely remembering to text both his mom and Lisa to let them know they’d made it back before collapsing into bed too.

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would have been of New York.

Their last days in New York went by slowly. Theo was in hospital, tired and angry after being told he couldn’t go home, and Wren spent his time going between the ward and Lisa’s apartment. Some days they’d meet for lunch, and sometimes she brought her colleagues along. The firm was hiring, and he passed on Katie’s details. Scotty came to see Theo one night, and they played go fish over Theo’s hospital bed with a pack of cards bought at a convenience store near the hospital.

Wren spent an afternoon in a laundromat even though Lisa offered to get his clothes dry-cleaned, just for something to do.

And it was fine. He wasn’t impatient. He would happily wait, for as long as Theo needed. It was just weird, being in New York and not being busy. Weird having to sit on the sidelines and do nothing -- not be able to do anything.

He didn’t dislike it. It just gave him time to think, while he counted down to their flight home.

Home.

In the days that followed their return to Cannon Beach, New York occupied Wren’s thoughts an unsettling amount. He’d missed it the first time, of course he had, but it was far worse now, knowing he wouldn’t be going back. The worst part was how much life here mirrored his last week there. Theo spent most of the time sleeping, and was often grouchy when he woke up (upset, thought Wren, at how long his recovery was taking), and while Wren had things to do -- groceries, job applications, driving Theo to and from medical appointments, trying not to think about the bills they were racking up -- they were brief and fleeting moments in a long stretch of time. It was weird. It was disconcerting. It was supposed to have been temporary.

He knew it was a change of pace, and one he’d have to get used to, but a part of him kept whispering, would it always be like this?

He didn’t know. He was scared to find out.

Lydia and Martin came up often, to deliver food or because they were ‘just passing by’, but really to check on them. Wren didn’t mind as much as he might have normally; their presence provided a welcome break from pacing around the house, restless. It wasn’t as though he could have stopped them, anyway; they were worried about Theo, just the same as him. Even Robin dropped by a couple of times, and while they gave each other a stiff hug and silently vowed not to bring up their last conversation, the mood was decidedly awkward. Neither visit ended up lasting very long, which Wren was grateful for. He didn’t need her judgement too, while he was still adjusting, trying to work out how he fit in here, in Theo’s big, quiet house. It was hard enough without it.

By far the best part of being back was being able to sleep in the same bed again. Wren couldn’t match the amount of rest Theo needed, but they spent hours in bed together anyway, cuddled up with their legs entangled, Wren’s face nestled into Theo’s hair, into the crook of his neck, his cold hand on Theo’s warm belly. He’d missed this so much when they’d been in New York, hadn’t known how much he would until he couldn’t any more. Theo was at his most content while asleep, and Wren revelled in it.

It was almost enough to make him forget the everything-else.

When Lisa called, it wasn’t a surprise. Wren had spoken to her a couple of times already in the ten days they’d been back, updated her on Theo and how his appointments were going, on how his job hunting was panning out, how they were settling back into life in Cannon Beach.

“Surely you must miss New York,” she said.

There was no use lying. “Of course I do.”

“Well,” she said, “what if I said there was a position waiting for you at DRW?”

She told him the details, but they sounded too good to be true -- an associate position with Davis-Ronstadt-Woods, a six-figure salary and a very generous benefits package, including (of course) top tier health insurance. There was even potential for a flexible start date, if Theo needed more time to recover before the move, as long as he could provide her with a rough timeline. He listened to her spiel in silence, stunned, scarcely able to process what she was saying. A position at DRW was all he’d ever wanted, but they were like gold dust. Even just a year working with Lisa would make his career. He should have said yes. He wanted to say yes.

Instead, he said, “Can I think about it?”

If she was surprised, she didn’t show it. “Of course, Wren. I can give you two days. Talk to Theo and get back to me.”

And that was the problem, he realised, hanging up. He didn’t know how to talk to Theo about this. But it seemed like this could be the answer to all their problems.

He was still mulling it over the following evening, stood at the sink washing dishes that had piled up over a couple of days, when a sleepy Theo emerged from the bedroom while he was busy washing dishes.

“Hey,” he said, offering him a smile. “How are you feeling?”

The distance between New York and Theo’s home in Cannon Beach was a little more than three thousand miles. A considerable distance, both by flight - six hours, if you could get a direct flight to Portland. And by car, a measly fifty. Not accounting for traffic or sleep. 

In most ways, it certainly felt so. Cannon Beach was quiet, for one. He lived by a highway in name only, nothing like the packed eight lane spans of the I-90 or I-78 that ran through New York. It was lucky to hear the distant rumble of an eighteen wheeler, or the fetterless roar of an unmuffled rat-rod once or twice a day. The loudest being was the ocean itself, and the winds that skipped across its surface.

His solid, immovable home had almost sucked the noise of the city out of him as soon as he’d breached the entrance. The smells had been overwhelming, of cedars and organic matter. And the ocean. He’d nearly teared up, relieved as he was to be back, and was glad Wren had bustled him off to bed as quickly as he had. 

Yet, in other ways he felt like he was confined to yet another hospital room. The same static view out his window. The same sounds of someone pacing outside his bedroom door, anxious, but for a reason beside his own well-being for once. A new haul of medical devices and medication that had taken up residence on his bedside table.

He couldn’t walk much. A trip to the deck left him exhausted, even with Wren’s help. Which he needed, still, as he couldn’t feel much below his knees besides the burning bees nest of nerve pain, like someone was flicking a lighter against his skin. But that was it. He’d fallen in the bathroom once, which he hadn’t told Wren, unable to bear the thought of his partner insisting on helping him go to the toilet. He hadn’t hurt himself too badly, anyway. Just a bruise to the elbow. 

There were the coughing fits, still. The ones that had him tasting blood. Where he had to refer to the sheet of paper to recall how he was meant to clear his chest now that the problem had been figured out. MS is a neuromuscular disease, so the muscles in your chest are too weak to properly clear your lungs. It’s likely why you got sick so quickly. It will happen again, which is why I’ve reached out to your local hospital for physical therapy ...

Lydia and Martin had driven up a few days after they’d gotten settled, a rare sunny afternoon where he’d had the strength to make it out of bed and onto the couch in the living room. The unannounced knock at the door had him feeling a short-lived sting of annoyance, but it dissipated as soon as he saw who entered. Lydia, draped in her typical swath of jewel toned knitwear that made her silver hair look like a halo, and Martin behind her, with an armful of Pyrex containers. The way she said his name, Theo!, like she’d been worried about him, like she was happy to see him. It made him crumble, after so many weeks of being …

He wasn’t sure how to describe it. He couldn’t, not yet. 

She’d joined him on the couch before he’d even realized what was happening and hauled him unapologetically into her strong, warm embrace. He didn’t resist. She smelled like fresh cut chives and thyme. Like rosemary and green. He hadn’t even meant to, but he tightened his hold on her, pressed his face closer to her body. When she pulled away her hands lingered on his arms, and she smiled that tight, reassuring smile that reminded him so much of Wren. 

Martin asked how he was feeling, but his head was a fogged up jungle of missing and misplaced memories. 

“A little better,” he’d said. And smiled, looking up at Wren. 

Your MRI shows a relatively minor remission. There are new plaques, likely brought on by pneumonia. Mostly on your spine, but there’s a new one developing here we’d like your team to keep an eye on. This dark spot, on your brain stem …

He didn’t even have time to feel guilty. Between sleeping and Wren carting him off to physical therapy, which only resulted in even more sleeping, he was just ... tired. There was no place to think about Wren. About how awful it must have been for him, to not only find him like he was when it had happened, but the weeks they’d spent in the hospital together. He’d nearly died, he’d been told often enough. If Wren hadn’t found him he very well may have. He was a fighter, and should be proud. 

He didn’t feel like a fighter. It felt like another letdown in a series of letdowns. A single huge leap backwards from the progress he’d been making since his last hospitalization. 

The ICU had been a breeze, to be honest. He’d been doped up for most of it, and didn’t remember much besides the emotions and flowers and cards. The step-down unit, less so. And then General Medicine had just been awful. It had been loud, with his room just outside the nurse’s station. And he’d had a roommate, a man in his fifties having a routine procedure that required funneling in his family four at a time. He’d had tests and procedures, and bad news delivered on a near daily basis. 

New plaques. Upped dosages. New disabilities, possibly. We’ll have to see how recovery goes. Your lung capacity is severely reduced, this is a training plan to increase it. Phone numbers for our physical therapy contacts in the area. We’ll want to schedule another MRI in a few months to see if you need a change in medication. Switching to infusions might be the way to go. 

Wren couldn’t stay the night either - which Theo had wanted, at first anyway. He’d desperately missed him, those first lonely nights in the noisy ward. But as the days passed in General Medicine, and his roommate had changed to two more roommates, and Wren could only stay for a few hours at a time and conversation had worn slowly to nothing, as there was nothing more he wanted to talk about. Not the results of the MRI, or his physical therapy, or respiratory therapy, or any of the other therapies.

His patience had worn thin. 

He didn’t feel bad about trying to check himself out early, despite his mother’s admonishments and Wren’s worrying. He would have done it, had he not been stopped. 

Which left him here, at last. In his own bed, at home. And it was undoubtedly better than the hospital. But there was something missing that he wasn’t able to figure out, after so many long stretches of days and nights in bed of the same thing, with no visible improvements to his mobility or endurance. When he slept he often had nightmares of someone holding him down and choking him. He woke up panicked and often sweaty, fumbling to tear the new CPAP machine from his face. The odd time he could stay awake, the medications and the painkillers and the CBD left him fuzzy and tired and … Grey. He’d gotten what he wanted, when he’d finally been able to go home. But now he wasn’t sure what else there was to fight for. 

It was one of those rare evenings when Theo had managed to get out of bed. He’d showered earlier that day, waking up a few hours after Wren before they’d headed off to a respiratory therapy appointment in Seaside. And then back to bed. After nearly two weeks at home they’d established a routine, something a little closer to how it had been before. 

But it wasn’t the same. The worst part was that he knew Wren agreed. He could hear it in his pacing, the sound of his socked feet sliding against the floor, back and forth throughout the house. The small sounds of Wren trying to keep himself busy, a compulsion he’d never seemed to have before. The hushed conversations he had over the phone on the other side of the house, which Theo would hope was simply Wren being mindful of the noise. Wren never spoke on the phone before, allowing the battery to die on more than a few occasions. He wondered which part of himself Wren had left behind in New York. 

It wasn’t quite dark yet when he left his bedroom, though the sun was definitely setting. It felt like they’d left in the summer and now it was suddenly autumn, with the ferns curling up and dying and the leaves of the deciduous trees turning a burnt orange. A reminder that time didn't stand still, no matter how much it felt like it had. 

The concrete was cool against his bare feet. He’d worn little else but sweats and t-shirts for the last few weeks, opting for comfort over anything else as the nerve pain and muscle soreness made anything else unbearable. He’d lost weight over the past month besides, weight he’d fought so hard to gain, and couldn’t bear the idea of wearing his other clothes. There wasn’t much point, anyway, when he felt so little like himself to begin with.

He kept his left hand trailing along the wall as he navigated his home to his second most occupied spot - the couch, in the spot closest to the kitchen. Wren had helpfully moved a side table closer, where he’d neatly assembled some of the items Theo reached for most often: bottles of water and CBD-infused juice, his pain medication, and some snacks. 

As he eased himself into the couch, he smiled thinly at Wren’s greeting, but ignored the question. He didn’t have an answer anybody wanted to hear, so instead he pulled a blanket over his lap and grabbed a bottle of juice, watching Wren from his spot on the couch. His back was turned to him as he worked away at the dishes, the hot water rising in clouds of steam. His sleeves were rolled up the elbow, and he wore rubber gloves that were too small for his hands. 

They seemed to be living an easy truce now that they were back home, a welcome change from New York. While their fights still lived somewhere in the back of his mind, they were far away enough for now to seem inconsequential. It was a lie, he knew. But a comforting one. 

“You don’t need to do the dishes, you know,” Theo reminded him, pointlessly. Was it a reminder when it was repeated near daily? 

“Patricia has her own system,” he added as he fumbled with the lid to the bottle of juice. A tactful way of saying that his cleaner didn’t like how Wren put the dishes away. 

And that was it. He searched for something else to say, but he wasn’t sure what the point was. They both knew how their days had gone, they both knew what lay in store for tomorrow. Instead, he settled on something easy, something he knew the answer to. 

“Have you eaten?” 

Theo took a seat on the sofa, ignoring his question. That was fine, thought Wren. Everything was fine.

“I know,” he said evenly, turning the tap off. He was finished anyway, and it had just been something to do rather than a real desire to wash up. Patricia could get annoyed with him all she wanted; he lived here, and it was ludicrous to say he couldn’t do his own chores in his own home.

Peeling off the gloves, he draped them over the edge of the sink, then turned around to look at Theo. His expression softened as he noticed him struggle with the bottle, but Theo managed to get the lid off before he had a chance to do anything about it. He crossed over to him anyway, winding around the kitchen island, perching on the edge of the couch and gingerly placing a hand on his leg over the blanket.

He shook his head. “Not yet. I was just about to throw something in the oven, but it’s heating up. Are you hungry? I can fix you something too.”

The words felt hollow, distant. There was a tension here he didn’t like, didn’t know how to dissipate. Where had it even come from? When had Theo started caring how he did the dishes? He hated it. He hated tiptoeing around him, being stuck indoors, having nothing to do, and most of all he hated that he didn’t know how to fix it.

He’s sick, he reminded himself. It won’t last.

But if it did?

He didn’t know what he would do, if it did. All he wanted was to make things better, but he couldn’t help but feel useless, like he was annoying Theo, that his worry was just building and spiralling and going nowhere. He needed to do something with it, something constructive.

He needed to talk to Theo about the job offer. He needed to talk to Theo about the job offer tonight. But he seemed like he was in a bad mood, and Wren didn’t know how to broach the subject in a way that wouldn’t make it worse.

Maybe there wasn’t a good way to bring it up. Maybe there would never be a good time. Maybe he just had to be brave and go for it.

“So,” he said, after a moment. “I, uh, spoke to your mom yesterday.”

Wren knew about the dishes. 

Theo didn’t want to get annoyed, but a silent huff of irritation passed through him regardless. Not with Wren, exactly. And not about something as inconsequential as the dirty dishes sitting in the sink. Yet he couldn’t help the way it still tugged at him, not when Wren’s words could so easily be twisted into something condescending, like he knew better than Theo. 

And that’s what it was, really. How everyone seemed to know more than Theo did about the workings of his own life. His illness had brought on a slew of sudden intrusions to his daily routine, and each person who’d decided to voice their opinion on what was best for him or how to take care of himself - something he’d been doing for decades - caused his resentment for this whole situation to quickly mount. He was no longer the expert in what was best for him, having apparently given the title away to Wren, Lisa and the slew of medical professionals in New York and Seaside. 

He should have felt grateful that he had people who cared. The last thing he wanted was to get annoyed.

But he couldn’t help it.  

He got the lid off the bottle, finally, and raised it to his lips as Wren approached. He shook his head as he swallowed slowly, grimacing when his throat refused to cooperate. 

“I’m not hungry,” he replied after a moment, the lump going away. He didn’t really have much of an appetite when he first woke up, before his meds had a chance to do their thing. 

Wren sat down on the arm of the couch, and Theo pondered their closeness. The nearest thing to intimacy they'd had in the last couple of weeks had only really occurred when Wren had decided to join him for a nap. And it had been nice, the sort of closeness that he’d coveted during his restless sleeps and frequent nightmares. This, on the other hand, was rather deliberate, and Theo looked down at Wren’s hand perched cautiously on his leg. He was wearing his soft hooded sweater, and those jeans with the hem on the pockets that had worn through from age. He met Wren's eyes, and his expression softened instinctively, as Wren had the same apprehensive look he’d once worn when they’d first started dating. 

He decided that this too, was nice. It was familiar. 

“Thank you for asking. Maybe later,” he responded, softly. He looked back down and deliberately covered Wren’s hand in his own, hooking his fingers through his.

He took another sip from his juice and twisted the bottle closed, when Wren mentioned he’d spoken with his mother. 

“Oh,” Theo said. He felt his brows push together as he tried to parse the meaning behind his sentence. He’d known he’d been speaking with Lisa every couple of days - he’d over heard him at least once or twice. So what was so different that he’d waited an entire day to tell him? He looked up at Wren, whose apprehensive expression had yet to fade. 

“Don’t tell me she’s coming to visit,” he said, hoping it sounded like a joke.