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“I heard it was a hit and run,” said Chester.
Tara blinked.
“Really?” she asked, making notes on the John Doe’s vitals.
“Yeah. Crossing some street in NoHo. And just – ”
Chester mimicked a car running over a man along with the sounds.
“Fucked up,” continued Chester, as if playing out the accident wasn’t a little messed up in and of itself, “Car didn’t even stop. Just ran him down. Possibly hit the windshield; probably went right over the roof, judging by the glass cuts. The car apparently kept going, though.”
“Didn’t even stop?” echoed Tara, a little horrified by the thought.
“Yeah. Fwacked him and wasn’t even bothered by it. Sped up even, judging by the person who called 9-1-1. Turned the corner too fast. Didn’t get a plate. A streetlight burnt out, so no one could clearly discern the make or model or even the color, from what I’ve heard from my guy. The one who runs one of the evidence lockers over in Noho. The person who called it in only saw the tail end of the accident. Mostly saw the aftermath,” said Chester as he changed out the IV bag, “It’s a miracle he’s still alive.”
The man had been in that room for a week and a half.
John Doe.
He was a bigger man.
Tall.
And muscular.
He was tanned. Not too tanned, but he definitely tanned more than burned in the sun. He had an aquiline nose, distinct cheekbones, and a cleft. He had curly hair; curly, chestnut brown hair. He was banged up from the hit and run. Cuts and bruises, though, the swelling was going down and the fresh red-purple was seeping into a yellow. Had three casts and almost lost his spleen. Dry lips from a week and a half asleep.
He was breathing, though.
Breathing steadily.
He was Tara Kaplan’s first John Doe.
And no one was sure if they would ever figure out who he was before he woke up.
“Really teaches you not to jaywalk, huh?” said Dr. Lane a little callously, setting the chart back down, “There are crosswalks for a reason.”
“Harsh,” said Chester, walking out with the doctor.
And.
Leaving Tara to finish her work.
She stared at the man; a man she had seen every shift this week, wondering how long this would go on; if there was any way to help.
No one had come looking for a John Doe, yet he had been dressed as if – as if he had been on a date.
There was a bag.
Bag of his things to the side.
Despite knowing how wrong it was, Tara – Tara found herself drawn to the bag. The bag filled with –
With.
Those date night clothes.
A watch that looked old, but not necessarily expensive. Well taken care of, though.
And a phone.
A smart phone with photo of a very hot guy as the lockscreen; this curly dirty blonde with pale skin and muscles almost as big as the man in a coma and friendly blue eyes and this goofy, loving smile and this distinctive birthmark over on the edge of his eyebrow.
He was in these dressed down, casual clothes; something he would probably only where at home; a tank top and boxers.
He must have taken the photo like a selfie; maybe stolen John Doe’s phone.
He was on a couch. He was using a lap as a pillow and Tara knew it had to be John Doe’s lap. There was an arm just like John Doe’s loosely wrapped around him.
Laughing.
Tara was pretty sure the guy was laughing – maybe he had been playing keep away with the phone as he took the picture? It was a little blurry.
It was cute.
Maybe – maybe they were boyfriends?
They were at least friends.
And.
Tara knew it was a bad idea.
She knew this could get her into so much trouble.
But.
But there had been no signs of anyone looking for this man for a week and a half and Tara couldn’t believe the man had no one who loved him. Not when he had a photo like that as his lockscreen. Tara couldn’t believe that.
So.
Maybe.
Tara.
Saw if she could open the phone with a face.
Which.
Was an option.
And okay.
Maybe.
Maybe Tara possibly.
Put.
The phone.
In front of.
John Doe’s.
Face.
And.
It.
Opened.
Onto a series of texts to a – an Evan?
EVAN: Are you on your way?
JOHN DOE: Yep. Bee there in 15
EVAN: Great. Will meet you downstairs so you don’t have to come up
JOHN DOE: See you soon
And, okay, maybe Tara panicked a bit when she accidentally typed a few letters, quickly deleting them before giving this Evan guy the wrong impression; Tara didn’t want a loved one to know Tara had broken into their phone when the patient was in a coma.
She quickly exited messages, going to settings before the phone died. She was barely able to get to settings before she found the name.
Tommy Kinard.
The screen turned black right as she got that name.
Tommy.
She glanced down at John Doe – at Tommy Kinard.
Well.
Tara supposed he sort of looked like a Tommy.
“I’m going to find your family,” whispered Tara, smiling as she patted Tommy’s arm, “I’m going to find someone who knows you.”
Tara gently placed the phone back inside the bag of belongings, making her way out of the room and to the closest computer.
“Where’s the fire?” asked Chester curiously, watching Tara as she began to look through hospital records for anything about a Tommy Kinard – or – or maybe a Thomas?
Probably Thomas Kinard.
“Fire’s the John Doe,” mumbled Tara as she found something in the database – a Thomas “Tommy” Kinard who had come into the hospital after a gas explosion on the job.
He was a firefighter.
Well.
Tara supposed he looked like a firefighter.
Had the right build.
“Wait. No. You didn’t finally – ?” whispered Chester, glancing at the screen, “You did open his phone.”
“Look. Better to ask for forgiveness than permission,” whispered Tara as she showed Chester the screen, “Besides, I think I figured out the name of the boyfriend.”
“The boyfriend?” Chester echoed.
“Yeah. The one on his lockscreen. I think that was his boyfriend,” said Tara as she pointed at the name, “Salvatore Deluca.”
“Salvatore Deluca. Sexy name,” said Chester, grinning as Tara started to tap out the number on the hospital phone.
“He’s the emergency contact. He has to be the boyfriend, right?” said Tara with a shrug as she heard the phone ringing, ringing, ringing.
And.
“This is Sal.”
Tara grinned.
“Salvatore Deluca?” asked Tara.
“Yeah?” said Sal on the other side of the line.
“Do you know a Thomas Kinard?” asked Tara, grinning; excited to get two boyfriends back together.
*****
“You’re Sal Deluca?” asked Tara.
Because.
That definitely wasn’t the man on the lockscreen.
He was a big, burly man. Pale and crew cut and rough around the edges. It looked as if he had put on last night’s clothes. They looked a little crumpled and a little quickly put on. Maybe he had been on shift before he came to the hospital?
He did at least look worried.
“What’s it to you?” asked Sal a little defensively before.
Seeing the nurse outfit.
“Shit. Sorry. I just – hearing an old friend’s in the hospital was… shit. Tommy never got hurt on the job. Never. It only happened twice in the over a decade we worked at the same station,” said Sal, wiping his face with his hand, “To have it happen just – just randomly like this is…”
Rattled.
The man seemed absolutely thrown for a loop that this even happened. Which made Tara wonder what kind of man evaded death so much in such a dangerous profession only to not check both ways when crossing the street?
What happened?
What made such a man so reckless and find himself in such a devastating accident?
“Room seven-oh-five. Do you know where it is?” asked Sal, “Could you point me there?”
“Y – yeah. I’m – I’m actually the nurse for seven-oh-five,” said Tara as she walked Sal over to the hospital room, “You said old friend?”
“Yeah. Haven’t seen him in… in a while, really. Poor bastard. He really needs to change his emergency contact,” said Sal softly, “Though. Maybe he just liked the idea that he could still lean on me. He was a bit of a sap like that.”
Sal was.
A little sad.
Kind of like this was the worst, somehow kindest punch to the gut in the world to Sal. Either Tommy was a very lonely man, very loyal, or very hopeful that he could patch up his relationship with Sal. Maybe he was a little of all three things, judging by Sal’s reaction.
Sal.
Sal wiped his eyes.
“Fuck. I can’t believe I waited this long to see him again. Now he’s in a fuckin’ coma,” said Sal into his hands, “I’m such a fucking asshole. I was an asshole last time I saw him.”
Oh.
“Hey – hey, it’s okay,” said Tara, wondering if she had stumbled into an ex accidentally while looking for an emergency contact, “All signs point to him waking up soon. Most coma patients actually wake up.”
They walked into the room and.
And.
Sal faltered.
Right then and there.
“Shit,” breathed Sal.
Just.
Staring at the man.
Sal crumpled a bit right before Tara’s eyes.
“Never seen him so beat up,” whispered Sal, “This was seriously a hit and run?”
“Yes. Unfortunately,” said Tara as she checked how Tommy was doing; the machines, the IV, everything, “But. Again. He’s okay now. This is Tommy Kinard, right? If you can positively ID him, then we’ll be able to update the police on the John Doe.”
“Yeah, that’s – that’s him. Good ol’ Tommy,” said Sal, his voice hitching as he seemed to stop a sob; pulling up a chair next to the bed to sit close to the guy, “Tell the police you’ve positively IDed Tommy Kinard as their John Doe.”
And.
Tara knew.
Tara knew that she shouldn’t bring this up.
But she had to.
She had to because.
Well.
There was a different person on the lockscreen.
“What?” asked Sal, watching Tara as if he had assumed she would leave him be and contact the police right away.
And she would in a moment.
But.
“Um,” said Tara, walking a little closer; leaning in, “Do you – do you know who the man on the phone was? On his lockscreen?”
Sal.
Grinned.
“I’ll be damned. I heard he got a himbo boyfriend, but I wasn’t sure if it was just scuttlebutt,” said Sal fondly, “He – he didn’t know. That I knew. Not that I had been all that good of a friend to him back then. Probably made it uncomfortable for him to come out, honestly. I fucked up there. I know that. I’ve known that for a while. But, you know, I always hoped he’d be more open about it. And he is now. A fuckin’ boyfriend. Good for him.”
Boyfriend.
So, the lockscreen was probably a boyfriend.
“Wait. Do you know the guy’s name?” asked Tara, trying not to sound desperate for answers.
Sal let out a long sigh.
“I – I don’t know, honestly. I think it’s that punk from the 118. That – that guy with the birthmark,” said Sal, snapping his fingers as he tried to remember the name, “I don’t know. Bub? Chud? Jerry? The jabroni who used to be the most annoying fire inspector the city had ever known. The nerd who accidentally rented an actual corpse for the Halloween haunted house then thought he was cursed by Billy Boils for a week.”
Sal.
Snickered.
“Man. When I heard that over the radio, all I could think was – how do you mistake a corpse for a prop? What a dunderhead,” said Sal, smiling, “Of course Tommy found that sort of guy. Always loved a dork with a big heart and big muscles, even if he wouldn’t admit it to me.”
He looked at Tommy so kindly.
“Was like a big brother to this kid once. Really. I – I took him under my wing. I – I didn’t protect him as well as I could have from our bastard boss. He was just a kid. This fucking – fucking timid, soft kid and I – I was a fucking idiot and a coward. Taught him the wrong ways to protect himself. Wrong fucking lessons. But I got better with him. I – I tried to be better for him. Until I fucked up that last time,” said Sal bittersweetly, “Can’t believe I just – I just let that friendship slip like that.”
Sal rubbed his eyes again, swearing under his breath.
“God, it’s weird seeing him hurt like this,” said Sal, maybe still in a little shock at the sight of Tommy, “He really never gets hurt like this. Two decades of knowing him, never seen him so hurt.”
And.
Tara didn’t know what he did.
She didn’t know the situation between the two.
But she felt like she should say something.
“Hey. Maybe – maybe you can patch things up,” offered Tara, “When he’s awake.”
Sal gave Tara a weak smile.
“Maybe,” said Sal, though, he didn’t sound exactly confident about it.
“I’ll contact the police,” said Tara, giving Sal some space with Tommy.
*****
Tara had never had to actually meet with a police officer at the hospital before. She never really thought about it as a thing that would happen – help solve at least one mystery of a John Doe case.
But here Tara was.
Speaking to a Sergeant by the name of Athena Grant.
A woman with rich, ochre skin, warm eyes like deep sard gemstones, and a stylish bob wig. She walked with Tara mostly in silence, her demeanor cool if not a little intimidating.
“So. You figured his name out by…?” asked Athena, and Tara just knew Athena knew what she did.
“Does it matter?” asked Tara, letting out a nervous laugh as the elevator opened to floor seven, “As long as I figured out his name?”
Athena seemed to size Tara up.
Until.
She sighed.
“Better to know, I suppose,” said the sergeant as they walked over to the hospital room where Sal was sitting.
Sal.
Froze.
Athena.
Quirked an eyebrow.
“Sal Deluca?” said Sergeant Grant, as if she knew the guy.
And.
Tara supposed Sergeant Grant did, because the man stood up.
“Sergeant Grant. Shit. Of course. Out of all the officers,” said Sal, laughing like it was just his luck, “I hope Bobby’s doing well?”
“Yeah. He is,” said Athena pointedly neutrally, “You’re seriously still Tommy’s emergency contact?”
Sergeant Grant.
Knew who Tommy was?
Wasn’t that against some sort of rule or something? To work a case on a person you knew? Especially when it was someone you knew well enough to question who their emergency contact was?
Was this allowed?
Sal shrugged.
“I guess so. Honestly, I don’t think Tommy really thinks about hospitals. I kind of assume he thinks he’s either going to make it out without a scratch or die,” said Sal, possibly a little too honestly.
Because.
Fuck.
To believe you’re either making it out with nothing or dead in a profession like firefighting? What kind of death wish was that?
Athena frowned.
“Sounds like Tommy,” sighed Athena as she glanced at Tommy, “This is why no one’s heard from him recently? Why – why he hadn’t contacted Buck after – ?”
Buck?
“That the boyfriend?” blurted Tara, and immediately knew it was a mistake to remind them both of her presence.
Athena.
Blinked.
“Yeah. Sort of. They kind of – Buck said they broke up. That’s what he told Bobby, at least,” said Athena, confused, “He’s really been here the whole time?”
“In a coma,” said Tara awkwardly, feeling like she somehow inserted herself in the middle of a soap opera, “Yup.”
“Wait, he broke up with that Labrador incarnate?” asked Sal, furrowing his brow, “But – why?”
“Don’t ask me. I don’t know all the drama. Kind of sounded like they both loved each other so they broke up?” Athena shrugged, “I don’t know if I should even – I don’t know if Tommy would want me to tell him.”
“What are you talking about? That’s his boyfriend. He should know, right?” said Sal, “I – I’m the emergency contact. I’m okay it.”
“Not for nothing, Sal, but you really haven’t been in this man’s life for years,” said Athena as she glanced back at Tommy.
She just.
Stared at him.
“That man saved my life,” mumbled Athena, “He stole a helicopter, flew through a hurricane on a hunch from Hen, and landed it on a capsized, sinking cruise ship to save mine and Bobby’s lives.”
What the fuck?
This guy did that?
“Sounds like Tommy,” said Sal with a shaky breath.
And.
By god, this guy did have a death wish, didn’t he? Strange to think that the man only got seriously injured by not looking both ways.
“How’d he come out of that walking and he crosses a street and…” Athena started to say.
Faltered.
“It’s weird. He wouldn’t usually make that sort of mistake,” said Sal, frowning, “Do you know what night that breakup was? Maybe – maybe he wasn’t thinking straight and he… He…”
Tara could see it now.
Tommy.
Ready for a date.
A date that maybe never happened.
Running out.
Distraught.
Maybe to get to his car.
Maybe to get back to that apartment to apologize.
Only – only for the universe to have other plans for him.
“I can’t see him not wanting his boyfriend here,” said Sal, pacing a bit now, “He doesn’t open up much. He – he doesn’t get close to people often. He’s always been so protective of himself. So – so scared of people rejecting him like his parents did. He wouldn’t date someone if he didn’t really feel something strong. He wouldn’t take that chance. If Buck was his boyfriend, if they were that close, if what you said about the break up was true – I think he would want Buck here.”
That was devastating.
Someone was so scared of the hurt of a relationship that they forgone them unless the urge was too powerful? The love was too strong?
What kind of life was that?
Athena seemed to be grappling with those words.
“Wait – wait here,” said Athena as she pulled out her phone, “I – I’m going to talk to Bobby. I know they just started their shift right now but – but I need to ask him about this before anything else. Get some advice about – about the Buck of it all. I’ll be right back to get your statement, Sal. Stay put.”
“You think I’d leave Tommy all alone?” asked Sal as Athena walked out of the room, taking her talk with this Bobby guy away from prying ears.
Sal.
Sighed.
Looking exhausted.
He had been at the hospital for almost twenty-four hours already. Tara had said he could go home for a change of clothes or something; that someone could call him to the hospital once the officer came, but he had refused.
He wanted to stay with Tommy.
Because Tommy always woke up alone. Each time he went to the hospital, he woke up alone. Not this time.
Which was.
It was sweet.
It was kind of Sal, even if it seemed unnecessary.
Though.
That seemed like an added layer to Tommy. Another tick for loneliness. And it wasn’t as if Tara bending some rules hadn’t been specifically so that Tommy could have loved ones there when he woke up.
So that Tommy didn’t feel unloved when he found out no one went looking for him.
“I still think Buck should be here if he can be,” mumbled Sal.
“Do – do you know his full name?” asked Tara curiously, “Or have a number?”
Sal shook his head.
“I wish I did,” said Sal.
Tara wished he did too.
“I’m – I’m going to do my rounds. But I’ll be back soon,” said Tara, knowing full well she had other patients to attend to.
“Well. You know where I’ll be,” said Sal, heading back to his chair.
*****
Tara had been on her phone.
She had been on her phone, trying her best to look up this “Buck” guy. It didn’t help that she didn’t have a full name. If that was a nickname or a first name or a surname. Didn’t help that she couldn’t remember the number of the station. She tried 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, and 117 – all busts.
She was about to type 118 when she – she saw someone new wandering her floor with a visitor’s nametag that said – that said “CHIMNEY”?
Chimney was an East Asian man, maybe five-foot-six, just a few inches shorter than Tara. He had kind eyes like fields of western cornflowers and short, straight onyx hair that looked soft to the touch (not that Tara was going to test that out).
He seemed tired.
Like long, terrible no-sleep shift kind of exhaustion and he seemed to be wandering the maze of the seventh floor aimlessly.
He had to be a firefighter, right?
With a nickname like Chimney.
Though.
Tara knew what assumptions made people.
“Excuse me,” said Tara as she waved to get Chimney’s attention, “Do you need help finding a room?”
Chimney blinked.
He.
Rubbed his eyes, chugging the thermos of presumably coffee down before he answered.
“Yeah,” said Chimney, screwing the thermos top back on, “I’m looking for room seven-oh-five. This guy. Tommy Kinard. Maybe – maybe under Thomas Kinard? He should be here. Can you help me find the room?”
Not the boyfriend.
They hadn’t sent the boyfriend.
But at least they sent another friend?
“Yes. I can help you, sir,” said Tara politely as she ushered the man deeper into the depths of the seventh floor toward the room, “Your friend is right this way.”
“Chimney’s fine,” offered Chimney as he took a bit of a shaky breath, “Honestly, I’m a little nervous. It’s not like I haven’t seen a friend in rough shape, but… fuck. I should have known it was weird that he wasn’t texting back. I thought it was because of Buck. I thought – I mean. I wasn’t mad or anything. I understood. It was a fresh wound. It might hurt to talk to people close to Buck. But he is my friend too. I knew him before I went by Chimney. I – I just wanted to know that he was okay. And I thought he just needed space. He’s – he’s an insular guy like that. I thought he needed space.”
Oh.
“He’s going to be fine,” offered Tara, trying to be as kind and as honest as she could be for this man, “He’s – he’s going to look like he’s in rough shape. He still is kind of in rough shape. I’m not going to lie about his condition. It was very touch and go that first week. He might have died. But – but he’s doing really well. He really is. The doctor says he should make a full recovery from this, even if it might take a while. His wounds aren’t fatal. They were dire that first week. But they’re not fatal.”
“That’s good to know,” said Chimney, letting out another jagged breath, “Fuck. It’s – it’s not really even Tommy necessarily, it’s – I was the one. Who was here when he was last in the hospital.”
Chimney seemed lost in the memory of it.
“There was this gas explosion and – and I was the only one who went in there before it got to Tommy,” explained Chimney, the words just flowing from his mouth like a waterfall, “I road with him to the hospital. I stayed for as long as I could, but I had this family emergency that happened shortly after. He woke up alone. No one was there for him. No one went to visit after I left. He checked himself out of the hospital before I could come back to visit again.”
Chimney.
Collected himself.
Took a few deep breaths.
“Sorry for that. I – I just can’t leave him alone like that again. Besides – I need to see the damage myself,” said Chimney.
“Bobby sent you?” asked Tara, which might have given away that Tara’s a little too invested in her once John Doe’s situation at the moment, “I mean. The sergeant yesterday said something about talking to a Bobby.”
Chimney.
Raised an eyebrow.
But.
He seemed to concede some information.
“To tell you the truth, I overheard some of the conversation,” explained Chimney, “I don’t even know what Bobby’s going to do about it. I didn’t hear the end of the conversation. But I knew I was at least going to see if it was really true before reporting back to Buck.”
Buck.
The maybe ex, maybe not ex-boyfriend.
“You know the boyfriend?” asked Tara, because fuck it, she wanted to know.
Chimney.
Might have raised his other eyebrow now too to join the first one.
“Yeah. He’s my brother-in-law. And he’s going to kill me if this is seriously Tommy gravely injured and I don’t tell him about it soon,” said Chimney as they finally got to the room.
And.
Well.
Sal seemed to tense up when he saw Chimney.
But.
Chimney didn’t seem to even notice Sal. Not yet, at least.
No.
Chimney.
Chimney first stared at Tommy; at in a coma, gently breathing, very much in a bad state Tommy Kinard.
Chimney.
Seemed to shrink a bit.
Felt a little smaller than the charismatic, if a little frazzled, man Tara found lost in the hall.
“Shit,” breathed Chimney, “I – I need to call Buck.”
“That’s what I said yesterday!” Sal blurted, finally getting Chimney’s attention, “Thank you!”
Chimney.
Laughed a bit.
“Shit. He hasn’t changed his emergency contact information since the last time, has he?” asked Chimney.
“Yeah. He hasn’t,” sighed Sal, “But I’m kind of glad he hasn’t. I – I’m glad I can be here for him.”
Chimney smiled.
“I get the feeling,” Chimney confessed honestly, “I’m – I’m going to call Buck. He should hear this on the phone. Not – not get it in a text.”
And Tara could feel it. The excitement prickling.
The boyfriend was coming.
The Schrödinger’s boyfriend was coming.
*****
“EVAN”.
The nametag said “EVAN”.
Tara stared at the man from Tommy’s lockscreen and finally, finally felt like she got the right person to come to this hospital. Not that friends weren’t important, but – but something about this mattered.
She just knew it.
Buck.
Evan.
They had to be one and the same, right?
Who else would those previous messages be for but Tommy’s not but possibly still boyfriend?
He was taller than Tara expected. Tara wasn’t sure what she had expected, but his height made Tara wonder who was taller between the two of them – Evan or Tommy? Or were they the same height?
They could be the same height.
He looked not okay.
Utterly in shambles.
Uneven fuzz on his face and clothes that looked like what the poster child of depression would wear and this immense sadness and yearning in his eyes and the worst bags Tara had ever seen under someone’s eyes and maybe – maybe flour in his hair? He was carrying the largest basket of just baked goods all wrapped beautifully in clear bags and curled ribbons. Tara wondered if this man had somehow made all of those intricate baked goods on his own.
Evan.
Locked eyes with Tara.
And made as beeline straight to her.
“Seven-oh-five?” Evan asked a little too quickly, the words fumbling across one another in a slurry of panic and Tara could tell he was trying to hold back how frantic he felt, “Do you know where room seven-oh-five is?”
Tara.
Nodded.
“I’m – I’m one of the nurses who has been taking care of Tommy – ” Tara started, but before she could finish the thought, she was pulled into a big, eclipsing hug; Evan holding her tightly and shaking a bit like he might be crying.
Maybe he was crying.
Tara could feel the wetness of maybe – maybe tears on the back of her shoulder.
“Thank you,” Evan said, and god, Tara could hear the relief in his sob; the fear and hope and relief, “Thank you so much. I thought – I thought maybe – maybe it was that he needed more time or – or maybe he didn’t want to see me again. The way he called me Buck.”
The way Evan choked up remembering the end of what had to be a terrible fight.
“The way he said that when he left instead of saying Evan? I – I really thought it was over. I held onto so much hope, but it was – he had never called me Buck before and I – I’m bothering a random stranger with my problems now, aren’t I?”
Tara.
Hugged this man back.
This grieving, terrified man who hadn’t even known that his boyfriend was missing for almost two weeks.
“Don’t worry. It happens all the time,” said Tara.
And.
Okay.
Tara wasn’t sure if it happened all the time. But the guy needed a little comfort. Tara could stretch the truth a bit.
“How did I not know?” Evan seemed to be whispering more to himself than he was to Tara, “How did I not even know?”
Which was a terrifying thing.
Tara knew it was.
It was the reason she bent the rules in search of someone like Evan, after all. Because it was bad both ways; not having anyone there when you woke up and not knowing you should have been there at all.
“Thank you,” Evan said again, sounding like he was pulling himself together a bit, “Thank you so much for taking care of him.”
“He’s going to be okay,” said Tara gently, giving the man a little, soothing rub on his back, “He’s hurt. He is. He’s in bad shape. But – but he’ll wake up from this. He’ll recover. He’s really going to be fine.”
For half a second, the man almost collapsed then and there; almost made Tara buckle under the weight.
But.
He collected himself.
He took a deep, long breath.
In.
And.
Out.
And.
Let go of Tara.
“Here,” said Evan as he pulled out – a whole entire angel food cake?
What?
“For – for taking care of him. For taking care of Tommy,” Evan explained as they made their way to Tommy’s room, “It’s not enough. I know that. It will never be enough for what you did for him. But it’s what I have. My fridge is, uh. Full of baked goods. Every time I wanted to text him, I just…”
Baked.
Evan grimaced.
“I should have known something was wrong. Even when he almost bubbled me, we – we always have big discussions in person,” mumbled Evan, “Though. I guess the bubbling was a fluke.”
Shit.
“That – that was me,” said Tara, a little embarrassed, “I broke into his phone to figure out his identity. He was a John Doe. I – I wanted to find his loved ones. Let them know he was here.”
Evan smiled at Tara; tired, but so happy.
“Thank god you did,” said Evan as they got to the door, “I – I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to Tommy and I didn’t know about it. If he woke up before I came, I don’t think I would have ever known. Tommy, he – he falls inside himself when he’s feeling too much. He doesn’t like bothering people. He wouldn’t have told a soul he was here… he would have been all alone.”
Evan tried to blink away a tear but was unsuccessful.
It slid down his face.
“Fuck,” Evan said, wiping his eyes, “He said some things in that last talk that hurt. Genuinely hurt and – and I knew it was fear talking, but – fuck. How was he so insecure about how I felt about him? How did he not know how serious I was? How could he say things that were so biphobic? I mean – the entire talk took a complete one-eighty. It was such whiplash. I didn’t even know he was breaking up with me until he walked out of my door. How could he not see how much I felt about him? I’ve never felt more like myself with a partner in my entire life. I don’t care if he was my first. A first can be a last. Who hurt him to make him think otherwise?”
Evan.
Choked out a sob.
“I let him leave without telling him I loved him,” Evan continued, “I should have told him I loved him before asking him to move in together. I – I should have said move in together instead of move in with me. He lives in a fucking house. I live in a loft that has one parking space. Where was he even going to put his Muay Thai stuff and car shit? I should have phrased that better. I should have said I loved him first. He wasn’t even out when gay marriage was legalized. Why did I act like he was part of why it became the law of the land? How did he not see that I saw a future with him when I said we weren’t getting married now? Why hadn’t I run to catch him?”
And it felt like Evan had needed to say that.
Say all of that.
As if he had been keeping it pent up inside for almost two weeks.
“Talk to him, then,” said Tara, not sure if she should be giving any advice, “When he wakes up. Talk it out.”
“I – I’m definitely going to,” said Evan resolutely.
Evan.
Reached the door.
Chimney and Sal must have stepped out for a moment; maybe they knew Evan was supposed to come visit.
Tara.
Grabbed the enormous basket of baked goods before Evan dropped it.
Evan seemed to tunnel vision.
His gaze, his attention, his everything – he could only see Tommy. Tara had seen that look before. She knew what that meant. Tara’s heart swelled as she heard a broken, “Tommy?” come from Evan.
And.
Fuck.
Tommy.
Tommy was stirring.
Eyes blearily opening as he croaked out in a voice not used for almost two weeks, “E – Evan?”
And.
Evan practically stumbled.
Tripping over himself and almost faceplanting on the ground before his hand caught the side of a table, pushing himself back up as he frantically sprinted toward Tommy.
“Tommy!” said Evan, throwing himself on Tommy with a loud oof (from Tommy); Evan’s hands touching whatever part of Tommy he could see to know Tommy was real before cradling Tommy’s face and delivering one of the most devastating kisses Tara had ever seen in her life.
And.
Tara left them there.
To their privacy.
To be with each other.
Happy that she had found Tommy’s loved ones just in time.