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 Posted: Sun Jul 23, 2017 9:14 am
( backdated to May 17th )Quote: (( Dark themes warning ))
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dcnd55tLCv8
It was never supposed to end up like this.
They’d promised each other they would be together forever, and after forever.
Michael had finally started feeling as though there was purpose that tied him more securely to this life. A beautiful, bright, multi-colored light full of energy and kindness and passion. A light that had given Michael hope when he had none left, a hand to hold to keep him from becoming too lost to himself, a chance to be himself and to pave his own path out from under the shadow of others.
A light that had come dangerously close to being snuffed out one too many times already.
That light flickered now, Michael knew. Caspian’s chances of surviving what General Obsidian had done to him was low, and if he did survive it would be a long journey to a full recovery.
The images flashed through his mind, the scenes of the battle that unfolded not too long ago on repeat over and over, Michael trying to determine where he’d messed up, trying to pinpoint the moment he failed. They never should have gone out that night. He never should have agreed to locate the source of the General’s aura.
He never should have left Remus’s side.
The force at which Michael slammed his fists down onto the bathroom counter had the long mirror on the wall above shaking.
He was still covered in blood; most of which was Caspian’s. He’d sat beside his unconscious fiance on the ambulance, helping the EMT by keeping pressure over the wound while he made sure Caspian was still breathing and fed him oxygen.
Michael thought they would never make it to the hospital; it felt like a million years had passed, and each minute he could see Caspian growing paler and colder as he lost more and more blood.
Now Michael was in a daze. He’d watched as they’d rushed Caspian off to surgery. He remembered feeling dizzy and nauseous and ended up slumping up against one of the walls.
Someone had tried to get him to at least sit down, but he couldn’t picture their face, or be able to pick out their voice. Had it been someone who was fighting Obsidian with them? Was that person in the ambulance with them?
He’d been ushered to the bathroom, a plain tee shirt with the hospital logo given to him to change out of his bloody one.
Michael didn’t recognize the reflection he saw. It was that of a pale faced, pathetic man who was splattered with blood. He tried to wash some of it off, but no matter what he did, the water kept running red.
Eventually he found his way back out to the waiting area. He didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t look at anyone. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart, his hands clasped so tightly together they were white. He couldn’t think, he could barely breathe.
How he hadn’t broken down completely, even he wasn’t sure.
All he could do was wait.
“Michael Gallo?”
He wasn’t sure what time it was, or how long he’d been sitting there. He heard his name, but his chest tightened, unable to decipher the doctor’s tone.
If Caspian hadn’t made it. If Caspian had died, Michael didn’t know if he could do this any more. He didn’t want to start over, to keep going, even though he knew that would have been what Caspian wanted for him. Because Caspian only wanted what was best for him.
But Caspian was best for him. Michael needed him to survive. He would just be an empty shell without him. There would be no light life, no hope, no second chance.
Slowly, Michael raised his eyes to the doctor and forced himself to stand from his chair. He felt unsteady on his feet, as though this was a complete out of body experience.
“He’s still in critical condition, but stable enough for now,” the doctor said, and Michael felt his heart beat hard against his chest.
It was unfair. He couldn’t take the uncertainty. There was a chance for one way or another, and that only meant both he and Caspian would suffer longer. He knew he should be overjoyed that Caspian was still alive, but at what cost?
He’d seen what the General had done to him, what he’d done to the other knight as well. Caspian not dying instantly was already miracle enough. But how much could Caspian’s stubbornness hold out? His body would break down at some point, and there was nothing any of them could do.
“He’s asking for you -”
“He’s awake?” Michael heard his voice crack with emotion, his head immediately snapping up and taking a helpless step forward, unsure of which way to go to find his fiance.
“You need to understand,” the doctor held up his hand as though to stop not only Michael’s movements, but to keep him grounded to reality as well. “His wounds… He might not make it through the night…”
Michael swallowed thickly, his own face still pale from shock, but he knew that every moment mattered now.
He needed to stay calm, needed to make sure that if this was Caspian’s last few hours with him that Caspian knew how much he was loved.
It wasn’t as though Michael was trying to be pessimistic about everything, but he’d seen strong, military built soldiers die from less.
He was silent as he was lead to Caspian’s room in the intensive care unit, and Michael thought he would cry just from the sight of all the machines that were monitoring his vitals. But he reminded himself that this was important. Probably the most important thing he could ever do in his life.
“Cas,” he greeted quietly, swallowing back the emotions that welled up as he smiled at his fiance. Caspian was sickeningly pale, hair still matted with blood, but that didn’t stop Michael from quickly moving to the side of his bed so he could lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips.
“You should be resting,” he gently scolded as he pulled back, if only for some semblance of normalcy. He lifted a hand up to card his fingers lightly through Caspian’s hair, his other reaching to take Caspian’s hand, his thumb playing with the blue jeweled ring on his finger, the one that matched his own.
A painful, hazy, bloody blur. Caspian could remember almost nothing, from the time he'd been run through by Obsidian's sword, to the flashing, flickering lights of the ambulance, to Michael's face waning in and out of his line of vision, blood streaked and gaunt, desperation in those blue eyes of his. Caspian wanted to reach out and reassure him, wanted to take his hand, wanted to pull him in for a kiss, a hug, tell him that everything was going to be all right.
He couldn't make his body move.
He didn't even know if his head was still attached to the rest of him. He couldn't really feel anything except pain.
Screeching, agonizing, nauseating, all encompassing pain that traveled from the top of Caspian's head to the toes of his feet, so that it was all the same. It felt like he was being burned alive, like he was being flayed from the inside out, made to watch while his body rejected itself, so that he couldn't think beyond the need for relief.
He wasn't aware of screaming, but his throat was aching, throbbing along with the rest of his body. Every little movement made him cry out, every jostle of the ambulance made his eyes flutter and close, because he couldn't keep them awake. He wasn't aware of anything at all, barely recognizing Michael's steady presence before everything went black.
He let it happen. The blackness was better than the pain.
Anything was better than the pain.
He faded in and out of consciousness, wandering through reality and horrific dreams, unable to fully grasp at either one of them. There was a lot of beeping, a lot of voices, a lot of people in surgical masks. Caspian's torso was a bloody mess, he somehow knew this, even if he couldn't see it, because he could still see Obsidian's snarling, grinning face in his head, laughter ringing in his ears.
He wanted Michael.
He couldn't think.
The blackness overtook him again.
When he next surfaced, all he said was, "Michael," before the nurse beside his bed disappeared. Caspian's throat felt dry; the pain had subsided into something that was less a bonfire across his entire body and more a throbbing, burning thing that was still horrible but less agonizing, enough so that he could focus, at least somewhat lucidly, on his surroundings.
"Michael," he said again, and his voice didn't sound like his own.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, whether or not he was even really awake. Time was a jumble of sounds and images that he couldn't put together, but at some point, Caspian opened his eyes and found that the world had righted itself once more around him. Michael was standing over him, blue eyes staring down at him, his face white with pain and grief.
Caspian could have cried with relief. He did, actually, a tear sliding down his cheek. He opened his mouth, found no words, and tried again.
"Hey, hot stuff," finally came out. Caspian's fingers twitched, though he didn't have the energy to lift them, as much as he desperately wanted to touch his fiance's face. Lips touched his in an aching, precious thing, a hand in his hair, a hand on his own, taking the desperation and putting it to physical form, Michael doing everything that Caspian couldn't.
"I missed you."
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Posted: Sun Jul 23, 2017 11:05 am
”I missed you too,” Michael said as softly as he could, trying to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack and betray his heartbreak at the sight of his fiance. Caspian shouldn’t look like this. He shouldn’t be sickly pale and weak and covered in blood. He should be vibrant and alive.
It was difficult to swallow back the nausea that Michael felt, and even more difficult to keep himself calm for Caspian’s sake when all he wanted to do was break down and cry for the young man he loved and wanted more time with. To beg and plead for the supernatural forces whom he didn’t think was fair to rely on when humans got themselves into their own messes.
“You’re going to be fine, okay? They’ve got you patched up and now you need to rest. Can you do that for me?” he asked, his fingers carding through the strands of Caspian’s dark hair that wasn’t matted with blood. He felt like he was lying to him, even though he knew there was a chance that Caspian would make it through this. But there was a sickening feeling in his stomach, burrowing deep in his heart that he needed to cherish these final moments.
Despite himself, his eyes welled up with tears that he desperately tried to keep from falling. People looked at him and probably expected someone who kept his emotions to himself and didn’t let things affect him. And they were right to an extent. But he’d always been a romantic, even if he’d locked that part of his personality away years ago. He couldn’t as easily separate himself from how he felt now that Caspian had broken down those walls inside him, the walls that protected his heart from feeling this way about anyone.
Michael leaned forward again, his lips brushing once more against Caspian’s, trying to keep himself from seeming desperate, instead being as gentle as he could.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked, shifting to press a kiss against Caspian’s forehead, making sure his tears were in check before pulling back. Caspian was probably too drugged up with pain medicine for him to really take notice, anyway.
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Posted: Sun Jul 23, 2017 6:00 pm
He wished his hands would move. He wished his body would cooperate, but nothing was working the way he wanted to. Everything was a dull throb of pain resounding throughout his limbs and a fuzzy, lightheaded sensation that felt like he was underwater, somehow.
"I'll be okay," Caspian mumbled, his voice very low and very faint. He was drinking in the sight of Michael, letting the simple presence of him be like a balm to his heart. Everything about him was so - solid, so real and so very there. He wasn't gone. He was still here, he was still alive, Michael was still okay.
"Everything's gonna be fine," he tried to reassure Michael, except it came out sounding a little slurred, more than a little tired. Caspian's fingers twitched in Michael's, tried to hold them as tightly as he could, except he couldn't find the strength to do that, either. "Stop...worrying."
It was taking a lot of effort just to be awake. Caspian was struggling desperately to not dip below the surface, especially not when he could see Michael's eyes, red rimmed and glassy, and he could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen Michael be emotional.
He didn't want to be the cause of that now. He didn't want to be the one to make him look like that.
Michael's lips were achingly soft, achingly warm against his own. Caspian never wanted him to leave, his lashes fluttering, and this time he did manage to drag one of his hands up and touch the side of Michael's face, skimming the stubble on his jaw.
The blackness was threatening at the corners of his vision now. It was trying to drag him under, his heartbeat quickening, so that it felt like a butterfly in his veins, trapped and desperate to get out. On the monitor beside him, the little line monitoring his heart rate jumped and skittered.
"Just..you," Caspian said faintly. "That's all...I've ever...wanted."
His eyes fluttered shut.
The monitor jumped again. Caspian's fingers slid away from Michael's face, head tilting to the side.
"Just..."
There was a long, clear, despondent beep from the single red line that stretched across the monitor's screen.
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Posted: Sun Jul 23, 2017 7:47 pm
The worst part of it was that he could see Caspian slipping.
He didn’t need the monitor to tell him that Caspian was starting to fade.
“Cas,” he said, more to try and get his attention than anything, Michael’s hand gripping tighter around Caspian’s hand, as if that alone would keep him…
Caspian was lifting his hand to his face. He didn’t have to lift it far because he was leaning close, but he could only imagine the effort his beautiful, stubborn fiance had to put into the gesture.
Michael could feel himself shaking, trembling with the emotion that twisted his expression, tears falling from where they pooled in his eyes. He wanted to stay strong. He knew Caspian could see his expression and that it would worry him. He didn’t want Michael to worry.
His face was already blanched of all color, but now he was sure his own heart was stopping as the monitor beeped and held.
He was warned this could happen.
He was warned that Caspian might not make it through the night, that his injuries were too extreme, that there just wasn’t anything that could be done about a sword being impaled through his body.
Michael knew this could happen, and he’d spent the hours leading up to that moment trying to prepare himself for it.
There was no time for him to even say goodbye. Or to say that he loved him. A nurse was already pulling him out of the way, his voice mute to his own ears as he tried calling to Caspian again, feeling as though his whole body was betraying him because it was allowing him to be pushed farther back when he wanted to be by Caspian’s side.
Someone was pulling him out of the room and into the hall, Michael’s face covered in tears as he stumbled backwards into the hallway wall.
Michael couldn’t remember the last time he openly cried. Thick, heavy sobs racked his body, his chest heaving with the inability to draw in proper breath. Men weren’t supposed to cry, after all. Especially not in front of anyone. But he could so very clearly see the light fading from his life. Because Caspian was all he wanted, all he needed. How was he supposed to live without him?
Michael couldn’t remember the last time he prayed. He supposed it wasn’t really praying now, either. More like begging whatever otherworldly beings there were to please, please, let him have Caspian in his life just a little longer. He felt like it was selfish of him to expect anyone or anything to hear him, or want to help him, but maybe because he’d never asked for help before, maybe him spending his life trying to make up for his own failures and mistakes on his own without relying on god-like beings to fix things for him, he would be given this one reprieve.
Or maybe there was no god and nothing could be done because they could only do what they could as humans and live with that.
Michael Gallo, reduced to nothing. A man who was usually looked to for his strength was now curled up on himself with his back to the wall, knees pulled up against his chest as he hid his face against them. The tears were still pouring down his face when he was approached…
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Posted: Sun Jul 23, 2017 9:08 pm
The nurse on duty was cleaning.
It wasn't a particularly glamorous job. The ICU rooms were generally kept very well, but it was because of an excellent nursing staff, if he did say so himself. They were also, sometimes, some of the hardest rooms to clean, because they were at the front of every hospital, the starting point for so many people.
And the ending point.
He didn't like being in the ICU just for the sole reason of - it was hard. Being a nurse was hard in general; it could have been worse, really. He could have been working at an oncologist's office, or at a senior health care facility, both of which were less than positive places. And he knew he was doing good work here, trying his best to provide good care to those who passed through. The work was hard - extremely hard - and exhausting - extremely exhausting - but he'd spent years in medical school to reach this point.
And he was a damn good nurse. It was just -
- hard, sometimes.
The goodbyes were the worst, because most of them were unexpected, unwanted, out of the blue.
The room he was cleaning now belonged to a young man, a stabbing victim, it seemed. The bed was stripped down and sanitized, new sheets and new blankets put into place for whoever would come in next. The cabinet was doublechecked to make sure no personal effects were left behind. There wasn't an attached bathroom in the ICU rooms, so he didn't have to check that, but he peered under the bed, just in case.
He'd missed a spot of blood. The nurse wiped it up, sprayed the floor, and made sure there wasn't a trace of it left before straightening, putting all of his supplies back onto the cart. After another check, he pushed the cart out of the room and back to the nurse's station, stripping off his gloves and tossing them before padding down the hall.
The man he'd been looking for was sitting in the waiting room, looking gaunt and small and hollowed for such a big, muscular person. His face was as white as a sheet; the nurse wasn't even sure how long he'd been sitting there now, how many hours it had been. Quite a few, probably; there were dark circles beneath the red rimmed eyes. Possibly he was attractive, but right now he just looked like death.
The nurse felt sorry for him. He felt sorry for all of them, really, because sometimes there was just nothing to be done.
It was the worst part of this job. He had learned to work with it, because it was his job, but it didn't mean that everyone else had learned how to manage it. Not everyone was as used to seeing the things that he did, and he couldn't blame them for breaking down.
The nurse reached out, a gentle touch to the man's shoulder.
"Mr. Gallo? You can see him now. We've moved him to Room 206, on the second floor."
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Posted: Sun Jul 23, 2017 9:51 pm
How Michael’s own heart hadn’t crumbled into a million pieces, he didn’t know. He felt like an empty shell, not knowing what to expect, expecting the worst because how else could this end? Caspian had a sword run through him. Even if he lived, he was going to be in pain for a long time, and probably have complications after that. It would be miserable and exhausting and painful, but Michael also didn’t know what he would do without him. He didn’t want to do any of this without him. How could he? How could he move on?
His face was white and wet from tears when the nurse touched his shoulder, and he slowly lifted his eyes to the man and nodded in thanks.
Caspian was alive.
For now.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew this could happen again. He knew Caspian’s chances were very slim, that he was lucky he’d survived this long. Michael didn’t know how much more he could take, or how he was supposed to go through this again.
For a while longer, Michael didn’t move. He wanted to see Caspian. Desperately. But he didn’t want to see him die. He couldn’t handle that. His chest ached painfully as he recalled how Caspian had looked, fading into a temporary death as his heart stopped. Too much blood loss. Too much trauma to his body. He was stubborn, but stubbornness couldn’t stop physical wounds that easily.
Finally, Michael pushed himself up from where he was curled up, feeling young and naive and stupid.
And alone.
Without Caspian, what would be left for him?
On unsteady legs, Michael made his way towards the end of the hall to the elevator, his eyes unseeing anything else around him aside from the path his feet somehow knew to take him. This time, he couldn’t force a smile as he gently pushed the door open and let it shut behind him.
He felt broken.
His spirit was broken. Even though Obsidian hadn’t hurt him physically, the damage he’d done to both Caspian and himself in turn… Michael wondered if there was a way to repair it.
Quietly, he made his way over to the bed, pulled a chair next to it, and sat down so he could reach out and take Caspian’s hand into his own. He didn’t say anything. He just… sat there. Staring blankly ahead at nothing.
He knew his heart wouldn’t be able to take watching Caspian die.
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2017 7:42 am
The next time he surfaced, everything was white.
It was better than the blackness. It kept threatening at the corners of his eyes, like it was lurking just out of sight, ready to drag him back down into the depths again. It thrummed in his chest, curled through his thoughts, so that Caspian was very much aware of it, in spite of the fact that everything was white.
He was very aware of his facilities - or maybe lack thereof, since moving at all felt like a colossal effort, the proportions of which he couldn't even begin to describe. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, fuzzy and unmanageable; the pain seemed to have gone for now, at least the majority of it, replaced instead with a thick, weighted haziness that Caspian couldn't seem to drag himself out of.
He didn't know where he was.
The room was white; white walls, white shelving, white cabinets. The pictures hanging on the walls, when he could refocus his vision, were of sailboats and other marine things, anchors and oceanscapes. A curved bar ran in front of the doorway and held a pale green and blue curtain on rings so that, even when the door was left open, the curtain could be pulled shut for privacy. There was another door to his right that was partially open and looked as though it was probably a bathroom.
Caspian blinked, slowly, painfully awake.
That also took a colossal amount of effort, glazed eyes taking in the surroundings that he had skimmed over already with more certainty now. Caspian's dark head of hair had been washed and cleaned; the blood matting it was gone now, and everything smelled like soap and antiseptic. He was, when he squinted hard enough, in one of those stupid hospital gowns that tied in the back and left almost nothing to the imagination if he stood up.
He was not going to stand up. In fact, he was not even sure he ever wanted to stand up again, ever. He felt so tired that it was a bone deep weariness, settling over him and blanketing him without any need or desire to get up and move. He felt utterly and completely unable to do anything at all.
His arm shifted; there was an IV needle poking out of the crook of his right elbow, leading up to the IV stand beside his bed. Some sort of clear liquid was inside, sliding through the tubing. The monitors were silent, but the stats were still displayed on the screen, changing minutely every so often, his heartbeat apparently regular now.
Caspian's eyes went to the man sitting beside the bed, aware of a pressure on his fingers that had nothing to do with the medicine.
"Michael?"
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2017 10:46 am
He didn't know how much time had passed between the time he first entered the white room and the time he heard Caspian’s weak voice saying his name. Michael didn't look up right away, but instead tightened his fingers around Caspian's to make sure he knew he heard him.
His heart ached with a pain that might as well be physical. Michael wasn't used to not knowing what to do, to not having at least some control over a situation. Instead, he was completely helpless. All he could do was wait and hope and it might not be enough.
Slowly, he stood from where he sat, his eyes now dry, but still red. His face was still pale but nothing like Caspian’s face.
Silently, he leaned over his fiancé, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
There was still a chance, even now, that something could happen. There could be complications. There was no absolute guarantee that Caspian was in the clear just yet, even if things seemed okay for now.
“I love you,” he finally said, his breath hitching a little with the knowledge that he hadn't said it before. And that could have been that last chance he had.
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2017 11:00 am
Caspian had lost all sense of time. How much had passed between when he had been stabbed to when he had woken for the first time to now seemed like some sort of hazy, unfamiliar thing, a cloud of pain and confusion and disorientation.
But right now, it didn't matter, because Michael was here, and he wasn't alone anymore.
Michael's pale face was a mask of pain; even if he wasn't saying anything, even if he wasn't doing anything, Caspian could see it, could read him as well as he had always been able to read him, because even from the start, Caspian had known how to look past his exterior. He'd known how many layers there were to get past, how many facades he had to break down before he saw Michael as himself, and after all this time, Caspian knew him, better than he knew anyone else.
The kiss made his lashes flutter, made his heartbeat quicken. Caspian closed his eyes to it, forced his hand up so that his fingers brushed against Michael's cheek, his stubbled jaw, sliding gently along the warm skin of his face. His eyes had opened again, half lidded, and he was tracing every inch of Michael's expression that he could, memorizing every line and every dip and every inch of him possible.
"I love you," murmured Caspian, and fingers slid over the back of Michael's neck again, tugging him gently down. Caspian couldn't lift his head - and really, had no energy to do so - but he guided Michael down for another kiss, this one just a little longer, though still just as soft, an aching tenderness melting into it.
"I'm back."
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2017 5:53 pm
There were a million things Michael could say. There were a million things Michael could do. He could kiss Caspian silly, so very thankful that he was alive still. He could tell him how scared he’d been, how scared he still was, how worried he was about what was going to happen next. What if Caspian didn’t make it? What was Michael supposed to do? What did Caspian want him to do if that happened?
Michael couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t force himself to smile like he had before. He couldn’t cry either. He felt lost, even with Caspian right there in front of him. What happened if he didn’t have Caspian any more?
“You should be resting,” Michael finally said, clearing his throat as his words hitched on emotion he didn’t want to show, even though he knew Caspian could read him like an open book. Maybe he was too doped up on morphine to really be able to focus.
His voice was soft but pained, and his hand gripped tighter to Caspian’s as he leaned into the touch to his face. He wanted everything to be okay. He wanted things to be like they always were. He wanted to go home with his fiance and then they could finally finish preparing for their wedding and -
“Marry me,” Michael said suddenly, pulling back to be able to look into Caspian’s eyes, wanting him to see how serious he was. “I want to be your husband, and you mine.”
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2017 7:22 pm
He was starting to get a little worried. Michael was quiet - quieter than Caspian would have expected. Not stoic, not just being his usual stubborn self; there was something else, something lying just barely beneath the surface, as though Michael was thinking about something so intensely that he'd lost words.
There was no smile. No breath of relief, no tears of gratitude or frustration or anger. Nothing at all, Michael just staring at him, Caspian looking up at him in return, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart against his ribcage. Everything felt sluggish and muted; he was so tired, but sleeping wasn't an option, not now, not when he'd just barely managed to come back to the surface.
"I don't want to rest," he said, and would have shaken his head, if he'd had the energy to do so. Caspian's fingers flexed around Michael's, an expression of uncertainty crossing his features, trying not to overthink why Michael was acting strangely, trying -
Marry me.
Caspian's mouth opened and then shut, eyes wide and startled. Of all the things he could have - should have - expected - that was not one of them. A steady red flush began to make its way across his face, warming his cheeks as the sense of confusion and panic began to twist its way towards the surface of his heart.
"What do you mean?" He gave a somewhat shaky laugh. "I mean - we're already - you already proposed. We're getting married."
Right? Still?
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Posted: Mon Jul 24, 2017 9:16 pm
There were too many things that could happen. Too many uncertainties. For the longest time he thought Paris and Chris were fools for getting married at such a young age, for having a family in the middle of a war, but now he thought he sort of understood where they were coming from.
There was no guarantee that forever was going to actually last. There was no guarantee that he and Caspian would have enough time to make their plans and finally have a wedding like they wanted. They’d talked about eloping or having a big ceremony, and finally Michael thought it would be best for them and for their families to go ahead and have a wedding to share with them all.
But after their fight with Obsidian, after Caspian could have died before even making it to the hospital, or his heart stopping not too long ago -
“I want you to marry me right now. I don’t want to leave this hospital without being married to you,” he said, his voice thick with the emotion that threatened to resurface even after he’d spent hours thinking about how very likely it was for Caspian to die.
He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to mention how Caspian had slipped away with him standing right there because he was sure his heart would break more than it already had. He knew he wouldn’t survive without Caspian.
He didn’t want to try and survive without Caspian.
There was a part of him that was worried Caspian would see that in his eyes if he wasn’t careful; see how ready he was to just give up on his life if Caspian wasn’t in it with him. He wasn’t as strong as others might believe, and just as he’d always told Caspian… he really wasn’t that great of a person. His stubbornness had a limit, and it would only last as long as Caspian was there.
There was another part of him that knew Caspian knew he would give up. And from the way Caspian was looking at him with uncertainty and concern, Michael knew Caspian must know just how ready he was to throw in the towel the moment it was confirmed Caspian had died.
“We can still have another ceremony and reception when… when you’re better. We can make sure everyone we want is invited, but I don’t want to wait any longer. I don’t want…”
Again Michael trailed off, his expression shifting the more he spoke, his broken heart not as easy to hide as he’d hoped it would be.
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Posted: Tue Jul 25, 2017 5:36 pm
He didn't understand what was happening. The panic was twisting through Caspian, slowly unfurling, and he couldn't quite form the words necessary to talk this through. His mind felt sluggish and unhelpful; and the sudden fear had nothing to do with getting stabbed and everything to do with the fact that he was now terrified that Michael was going to say something about them breaking up, or maybe never getting married, and, well, he'd just asked, but he wasn't sure if it was a joke or not -
I want you to marry me right now.
Caspian's mouth fell open.
There was nothing but sheer, utter emotion in Michael's voice; he didn't have to even ask if he was serious to know that he was. Caspian stared at him, eyes as wide as saucers, and the rapid pounding of his heart was something else now, something else entirely that he couldn't name, that was akin to happiness but that he wasn't sure actually was.
He almost asked why.
Almost.
It didn't matter that no matter how hard Michael tried to hide it, Caspian knew. He knew, because the same fear was there in him, for Michael's life, for his own as well, but for Michael, because there was no life without Michael in it. He couldn't do it. And even with the fuzziness of his head and the confusion warring in his thoughts about timelines and figuring out where he was and what had happened, he knew, that in the space of the blackness where he'd been nothing at all, everything had stopped for Michael.
The world had stopped and Caspian never wanted that to happen again, ever, for either of them.
"Yes," he blurted out, and then took a shaking, shuddering breath, and he was trying desperately not to be more emotional than he already was, but the corners of his were stinging, and he could feel the weight of everything he was feeling rising in his throat.
"Yes," Caspian said again. His fingers tightened around Michael's. "Yes. I'll marry you. Right here. Right now."
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Posted: Mon Sep 18, 2017 8:46 am
Michael didn’t even have a few moments to think whether or not Caspian was going to question him, because he could see it in his eyes that he knew how much Michael wanted this. They’d pushed their wedding back not because they didn’t want to get married, but it was such a hassle to get everything organized, and even more of a hassle to deal with people.
But this… Michael knew if they didn’t do this now, they might not get another chance. Caspian might die and that would be it.
He swallowed back the emotion that threatened to rise up, wondering why he’d only shown this kind of emotion around Caspian, but he also knew that before Caspian, his emotions had been locked away. With the walls carefully and lovingly deconstructed, Caspian had found a way into his heart and soul.
Caspian, Michael knew, had worked hard to pull the bricks down until there was nothing but Michael left, just as Michael worked hard to build Caspian up in regard to his insecurities, to help him establish a stable foundation so he could grow and flourish.
Without each other, Michael was certain they would still be nothing.
Slowly, Michael leaned down over the hospital bed, careful not to pull on any of the cords or jostle Caspian for fear of hurting him more, and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“Okay. We’ll get married,” he said with a shaky breath as he pulled back once more, but he didn’t let go of Caspian’s hand. “I’ll… have to make some calls. I think Peter should be here. But… we need witnesses over eighteen right? There’s Chris and Paris… I don’t know if my parents are in town, but we’ll get in trouble if we don’t try to include them. What about your family? Should I call them too? I… don’t want to wait too long, but if they’re around,” he rambled nervously, as though he was realizing that even doing something like this would require much more of a production than he would like.
“Or we can say ******** it, and grab two people in the hall.”
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Posted: Thu Sep 21, 2017 5:55 pm
He was not going to let this go. He was not going to let any of this go, not when their lives were so precious and so fragile, not when he never wanted to see that look on Michael's face again. It was an ache in Caspian's chest, a throbbing pain every time he drew breath, and not just from his injuries, but from everything.
He wanted to be Michael's husband and he wanted Michael to be his and he didn't want to wait any longer. This was the life they had chosen together; this was the life they had built, the strenuous, exhausting, frustrating, aching, painful life that they had slowly but steadily grown from a small, unassuming thing into something that Caspian could no longer live without.
A bruised hand rose and pressed against Michael's stubbled jaw as he bent to kiss him, Caspian blinking madly to get the dampness out of his eyes. He curled his fingers around Michael's tightly - or at least, as tight as he could make it without it actually being painful.
Listening to Michael ramble on was almost as heartwarming as the proposal itself. Caspian watched him with what he knew was an overwhelmingly adoring expression on his face, but he couldn't help it. It was just so unbelievably Michael that the affection in Caspian surged just seeing him babble on about guests and people and their families and organizing and everything.
He would have laughed if he'd had the strength to. Instead Caspian just gently gave Michael's hand a soft ******** it," he said simply. "Right now. Grab two people, and let's get married."
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