[ Tylor snuggles up to Hani with a yawn, closing his eyes and settling back in all cozy. It was never very hard for him to fall back to sleep when he had someone to hold.
Wow look is it morning. What a convenient time skip. ]
( Visitor hours at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Beverly Hills start bright and early at 8:00 AM, and the hospital - well known for being a hospital for the excessively rich and famous - is bustling, even at these early hours.
Mithrun is checked in under John Doe at room 379, and his parents have arranged for no visitors - it's bad press! - so they wouldn't have much luck at the front desk if they'd asked. Going directly up, however, lands them an encounter with Kabru just on the outside - good timing, too, since he looks like he arrived awhile ago, and was stepping out to get himself some breakfast. He's seen Hani (in passing if not briefly introduced before), and while he regards Tylor with uncertainty, he seems to know him once they offer Tylor's name - Morgan's talked about you, he says.
He tells them to just not be too noisy, and tells them when the nurses will make their rounds - so hide or be quick. He'll try to smooth things over if they get in trouble. Also - Morgan's pretty out of it. He forgets things, and doesn't remember some things. So just be gentle with him.
With that, he steps out, though he seems a little unsure about leaving at first. And then you're left with safe passage into Morgan's hotel suite-like room (a big, well-furnished hospital space, the equipment top of the line; there's a room with couches, a television, a small dining table; a big and proper bathroom... and so on). And then there's Morgan himself on the bed, IVs hooked up to him, a heart rate monitor there - a lot less equipment on him than you'd expect for someone just come out of a coma.
He seems groggy and near about to sleep again, but he shifts as the door closes behind the two of them. There's a vague sense of acknowledgment as he attempts to turn his gaze toward them, though he doesn't attempt to focus. Kabru...? No... )
[ not the vibrant tone hani usually takes, but something that leans more earnest, more honest. it holds hope and cautious joy like they’re learning both again after a long winter, popping out of the snow a sight as familiar as arrival of spring. it’s been a while.
they’re dressed in their sunday (strawberry) best, holding flowers in one hand and justy’s hand in their other.
the first step over the threshold is the scariest, and they shake a little, casting their first uncertain look at justy. what if -
but he’s there on the bed and beautiful. hani - hani drops the bouquet, the hand, everything, and rushes in with a sob. they stop short of throwing themself on mithrun, standing there with clenched hands and eyes and lips. everything left overflowing. ]
[ Tylor is polite through the pleasantries, giving Kabru his best smile while he grips Hani's hand tighter than he means to. He isn't even aware he's holding his breath too, until Hani rushes from him with the air in his lungs. Their hand slips free, but there is no lingering cold. Not in this room suddenly bright and heavy with relief and love and --
Tylor doesn't expect the feeling that washes over him, seeing Morgan alive again. It's overwhelming, an echo of a dizzying and historic pang. For once, he finds his missing star alive.
His eyelids flutter to combat the burn, the welling. But there isn't room for surprise on his face as he follows behind Hani, and he doesn't want to lose sight of Morgan to blink the wetness away. He's here, real. In person.
Eyes only on their sought after atom as he moves, knees threatening to give with every step he takes, it's as if nothing else in the world exists. Only the three of them; here, together, in this little universe for this little time in life. Found again, pieced together. The magnetic force draws Tylor to his side, to carefully lean over and delicately brush the hair out of Morgan's face, to cradle his face as gently as precious glass. The first time he's actually touched him.
His smile is warm, wobbly, a single tear threatens an escape down a cheek above Morgan's when he moves to press a kiss to his forehead. ]
( It feels like the world's moving through water, and his thoughts drift sluggish through. They're coming better into view, and for a second he thinks he knows them, but then, he thinks, he doesn't; these faces are unfamiliar, the way they look with these tears - whether or not their tears fully fall.
But their voices are.
He closes his eyes and comes to ease into the touch at his cheek, and he feels calm. Yes, he thinks he knows them. He knows them, even if it's usually in a different style. He knows them, because with them he thinks - is this what it's like to be loved? as if it were a phrase that marked their shape in his mind, the way light signals sun.
He feels like he spoke to them just recently, but he wonders what was said. )
... You don't have to stay so far...
( He murmurs, the way he rounds his vowels and shapes his consonants a little strange and inarticulate, but at least he can speak. He isn't fully sure what he means by what he says, and he doesn't think much on it - it just feels strange that these two feel a little far away. They seem like they should be closer. That's all. )
[ the words trip and fall out, clumsy, stumbling like hani's still not ready to fully believe that they've found mithrun. it's been a little over seven days, more than a week, not even close to two. but seven days is enough for a world to be born; each sunset without their third felt like another star dying. and the drag of each day is still felt, rubbed raw on their hands and knees.
following their words are more tears; they fall and fall, and hani does nothing about them at first. they've only cried three and a half times in their life now, and never once have they learned to catch their own tears. though - there's no need to catch them now that everything that matters has been found and put back, emotions as all-consuming as planets slotting back into perfect rings. and grief, it stays at the edge of everything, small and distant, but forever there now that they've learned it.
but at a very center: a planet with its sun and its moon. and the seasons continue, sudden.
the relief is almost as crippling as the grief they had felt the day before. winter's departure leaves too many tears, ice melting rapidly from their eyes. it's overwhelming, so much, and they don't - don't want to show it. so they hide behind justy, pressing their face into his back. splotches of tears paint the canvas of his shirt in shades of relief and hope and love; a painting dried and sealed by the breath of their quiet sobs. it's not beautiful, foiled by their shaking shoulders, miniscule yet too much for their small body.
but they hope - they hope that, unlike the impression on fabric that will inevitably fade into nothing, everything here in this room will last forever.
it's hope that keeps hani from hiding forever, and mithrun's words that draw them out, draw them closer to grab his hands.
each pale, fragile appendage held up to hani's face for fear that one of them might reach for mithrun's own throat again, single eye wide and empty. hani would rather he reach for theirs. they kiss the palm of each, where the lines of life continue to run, then the inner lines of his fingers, the tips, the scars. ]
I never stopped wanting to be close.
[ never stopped trying to find him. even in that moment when he had logged out (seconds too soon, seconds too late), and all hani was left with was this black hole of loss, they used their tears to soften the grave, to dig for all the remaining parts of him they couldn't let rot. ]
[ Tylor's eyes still don't leave their third star, the one to look for to be guided home. A molecule, a universe, restored. Reality rushes to greet him, the welcome tug of gravity and longing. His expression softens as Hani's grief, relief stains the back of his coat.
He had been so confident that Morgan was okay, his gut triumphant. But every day that passed in his absence was a greater ache than the last, a compounding and familiar feeling, ready to bury him. Loss was a harsher and darker beast than simply being ignored. Unfair to thr progress they'd all made in communicating with one another.
It's these moments that smooth the wrinkles most, that allow each star to shine brightly, twinkling with succor and longing to be one. And Tylor feels hope tangled up in his own relief.
Caught up easily in the present, it's easy to forget the little things that had reminded him of Morgan. In game and out, alcohol, distraction, and unbridled optimism can only placate the crater of loss so many times before it etched a permanent design on his heart. A Morgan shaped piece of him, cut and ripped out with increasingly jagged edges.
It's effortless to fall back into orbit with their missing star. The hot and outsized atom, hungry and molten and clueless about the field of gravity he creates in his only want beyond revenge to understand more.
This feeling, warm and blooming, is a willing sacrifice to the monster called grief, lying in wait to consume Tylor wholly when he finds himself alone again. For now, it is pinned to the depths by the love held in his hands. Darkness pushed back by presence, the wholeness of three, Tylor feels it when Hani kisses at Morgan's hands. But he doesn't dare tear his glossy eyes away.
A sweet sigh escapes him at Morgan's words. Tylor moves closer, drawn up by the single knee on Morgan's bed and the pull of his proper place in orbit. The shift to slip in beside Morgan is languid and slow, in the careful way reserved for important and fragile things. His arm falls over him, protective around his waist as he pulls Morgan close to press chaste lips to his temple.
He keeps his answers simple, slow, and full of love so thick it drips from his words like honeyed balm so the meaning is simple, even if one doesn't understand the words. ]
Don't worry. We're here, M&M. Morgan. Always.
[ His kisses travel between hushed words; a light brush of lips to lips and then to his closed eye, his hair, reveling in the fact that this is real. There is no heat to it, in this pure celebration of life and renewed bonds. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2023-09-11 05:37 am (UTC)hani breathes him in, sleep-mussed and all heat like the best sort of blanket. ]
But it still feels like a dream. And at the same time, like we’ve woken up from a long nightmare. Justy-kun, look.
[ they pull back to show him their phone screen. numbers and a name that mean everything. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-09-11 05:45 am (UTC)Braincell defrosting from sleep.
Turning slowly.
Then all of a sudden he sits up again and takes Hani with him as he leans over the phone. ]
AH! Morgan? Is it really him? Is he okay? Did he say anything else?
[ A blink, very awake now though he still hangs on Hani. ]
Oh, can we go see him?
no subject
Date: 2023-09-11 06:01 am (UTC)He didn’t say anything else, but - um…
[ hani scrolls to another message, this time from winter, with a hospital and a code name. they show this to justy, too. ]
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, we can. [ as visiting hours are over, considering the time of night. ] First thing.
no subject
Date: 2023-09-11 06:33 am (UTC)[ Tylor snuggles up to Hani with a yawn, closing his eyes and settling back in all cozy. It was never very hard for him to fall back to sleep when he had someone to hold.
Wow look is it morning. What a convenient time skip. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-09-11 07:17 am (UTC)Mithrun is checked in under John Doe at room 379, and his parents have arranged for no visitors - it's bad press! - so they wouldn't have much luck at the front desk if they'd asked. Going directly up, however, lands them an encounter with Kabru just on the outside - good timing, too, since he looks like he arrived awhile ago, and was stepping out to get himself some breakfast. He's seen Hani (in passing if not briefly introduced before), and while he regards Tylor with uncertainty, he seems to know him once they offer Tylor's name - Morgan's talked about you, he says.
He tells them to just not be too noisy, and tells them when the nurses will make their rounds - so hide or be quick. He'll try to smooth things over if they get in trouble. Also - Morgan's pretty out of it. He forgets things, and doesn't remember some things. So just be gentle with him.
With that, he steps out, though he seems a little unsure about leaving at first. And then you're left with safe passage into Morgan's hotel suite-like room (a big, well-furnished hospital space, the equipment top of the line; there's a room with couches, a television, a small dining table; a big and proper bathroom... and so on). And then there's Morgan himself on the bed, IVs hooked up to him, a heart rate monitor there - a lot less equipment on him than you'd expect for someone just come out of a coma.
He seems groggy and near about to sleep again, but he shifts as the door closes behind the two of them. There's a vague sense of acknowledgment as he attempts to turn his gaze toward them, though he doesn't attempt to focus. Kabru...? No... )
no subject
Date: 2023-09-11 07:42 am (UTC)[ not the vibrant tone hani usually takes, but something that leans more earnest, more honest. it holds hope and cautious joy like they’re learning both again after a long winter, popping out of the snow a sight as familiar as arrival of spring. it’s been a while.
they’re dressed in their sunday (strawberry) best, holding flowers in one hand and justy’s hand in their other.
the first step over the threshold is the scariest, and they shake a little, casting their first uncertain look at justy. what if -
but he’s there on the bed and beautiful. hani - hani drops the bouquet, the hand, everything, and rushes in with a sob. they stop short of throwing themself on mithrun, standing there with clenched hands and eyes and lips. everything left overflowing. ]
Found you…!
no subject
Date: 2023-09-11 08:09 am (UTC)Tylor doesn't expect the feeling that washes over him, seeing Morgan alive again. It's overwhelming, an echo of a dizzying and historic pang. For once, he finds his missing star alive.
His eyelids flutter to combat the burn, the welling. But there isn't room for surprise on his face as he follows behind Hani, and he doesn't want to lose sight of Morgan to blink the wetness away. He's here, real. In person.
Eyes only on their sought after atom as he moves, knees threatening to give with every step he takes, it's as if nothing else in the world exists. Only the three of them; here, together, in this little universe for this little time in life. Found again, pieced together. The magnetic force draws Tylor to his side, to carefully lean over and delicately brush the hair out of Morgan's face, to cradle his face as gently as precious glass. The first time he's actually touched him.
His smile is warm, wobbly, a single tear threatens an escape down a cheek above Morgan's when he moves to press a kiss to his forehead. ]
We missed you a lot.
no subject
Date: 2023-09-11 09:21 am (UTC)But their voices are.
He closes his eyes and comes to ease into the touch at his cheek, and he feels calm. Yes, he thinks he knows them. He knows them, even if it's usually in a different style. He knows them, because with them he thinks - is this what it's like to be loved? as if it were a phrase that marked their shape in his mind, the way light signals sun.
He feels like he spoke to them just recently, but he wonders what was said. )
... You don't have to stay so far...
( He murmurs, the way he rounds his vowels and shapes his consonants a little strange and inarticulate, but at least he can speak. He isn't fully sure what he means by what he says, and he doesn't think much on it - it just feels strange that these two feel a little far away. They seem like they should be closer. That's all. )
no subject
Date: 2023-09-12 10:15 pm (UTC)[ the words trip and fall out, clumsy, stumbling like hani's still not ready to fully believe that they've found mithrun. it's been a little over seven days, more than a week, not even close to two. but seven days is enough for a world to be born; each sunset without their third felt like another star dying. and the drag of each day is still felt, rubbed raw on their hands and knees.
following their words are more tears; they fall and fall, and hani does nothing about them at first. they've only cried three and a half times in their life now, and never once have they learned to catch their own tears. though - there's no need to catch them now that everything that matters has been found and put back, emotions as all-consuming as planets slotting back into perfect rings. and grief, it stays at the edge of everything, small and distant, but forever there now that they've learned it.
but at a very center: a planet with its sun and its moon. and the seasons continue, sudden.
the relief is almost as crippling as the grief they had felt the day before. winter's departure leaves too many tears, ice melting rapidly from their eyes. it's overwhelming, so much, and they don't - don't want to show it. so they hide behind justy, pressing their face into his back. splotches of tears paint the canvas of his shirt in shades of relief and hope and love; a painting dried and sealed by the breath of their quiet sobs. it's not beautiful, foiled by their shaking shoulders, miniscule yet too much for their small body.
but they hope - they hope that, unlike the impression on fabric that will inevitably fade into nothing, everything here in this room will last forever.
it's hope that keeps hani from hiding forever, and mithrun's words that draw them out, draw them closer to grab his hands.
each pale, fragile appendage held up to hani's face for fear that one of them might reach for mithrun's own throat again, single eye wide and empty. hani would rather he reach for theirs. they kiss the palm of each, where the lines of life continue to run, then the inner lines of his fingers, the tips, the scars. ]
I never stopped wanting to be close.
[ never stopped trying to find him. even in that moment when he had logged out (seconds too soon, seconds too late), and all hani was left with was this black hole of loss, they used their tears to soften the grave, to dig for all the remaining parts of him they couldn't let rot. ]
no subject
Date: 2023-09-13 12:39 am (UTC)He had been so confident that Morgan was okay, his gut triumphant. But every day that passed in his absence was a greater ache than the last, a compounding and familiar feeling, ready to bury him. Loss was a harsher and darker beast than simply being ignored. Unfair to thr progress they'd all made in communicating with one another.
It's these moments that smooth the wrinkles most, that allow each star to shine brightly, twinkling with succor and longing to be one. And Tylor feels hope tangled up in his own relief.
Caught up easily in the present, it's easy to forget the little things that had reminded him of Morgan. In game and out, alcohol, distraction, and unbridled optimism can only placate the crater of loss so many times before it etched a permanent design on his heart. A Morgan shaped piece of him, cut and ripped out with increasingly jagged edges.
It's effortless to fall back into orbit with their missing star. The hot and outsized atom, hungry and molten and clueless about the field of gravity he creates in his only want beyond revenge to understand more.
This feeling, warm and blooming, is a willing sacrifice to the monster called grief, lying in wait to consume Tylor wholly when he finds himself alone again. For now, it is pinned to the depths by the love held in his hands. Darkness pushed back by presence, the wholeness of three, Tylor feels it when Hani kisses at Morgan's hands. But he doesn't dare tear his glossy eyes away.
A sweet sigh escapes him at Morgan's words. Tylor moves closer, drawn up by the single knee on Morgan's bed and the pull of his proper place in orbit. The shift to slip in beside Morgan is languid and slow, in the careful way reserved for important and fragile things. His arm falls over him, protective around his waist as he pulls Morgan close to press chaste lips to his temple.
He keeps his answers simple, slow, and full of love so thick it drips from his words like honeyed balm so the meaning is simple, even if one doesn't understand the words. ]
Don't worry. We're here, M&M. Morgan. Always.
[ His kisses travel between hushed words; a light brush of lips to lips and then to his closed eye, his hair, reveling in the fact that this is real. There is no heat to it, in this pure celebration of life and renewed bonds. ]
We love you.