Marcus was just waking up, feeling very weak. His head was throbbing, a dull, persistent ache that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat. He blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog from his vision, and when his eyes finally focused, he froze.
Ryan was standing there by the door, looking at him.
For a moment, Marcus thought he was dreaming. That maybe the medication had made him see things that weren't really there. But Ryan didn't disappear. He just stood there, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on Marcus with an intensity that made Marcus's chest tighten.
Marcus was so shocked that he wanted to sit up immediately, to say something, to explain, but the moment he tried to move, pain shot through his body like electricity. It slammed him back into the bed, and he let out a sharp breath, his hand instinctively reaching for his head.
Ryan ran over the moment he saw the pain flash across Marcus's face. He didn't say anything at first, he just moved quickly, his hand reaching for the controls on the side of the bed. He pressed a button, and the bed began to rise slowly, lifting Marcus into a more upright position. It was gentle, careful, like Ryan was afraid of hurting him more.
Once the bed stopped moving, Ryan sat down on the edge of it, right beside Marcus. He didn't ask if it was okay. He just sat there, close enough that Marcus could feel the warmth radiating from him.
Then, without a word, Ryan placed one hand over Marcus's, his fingers resting lightly on top of his knuckles.
Marcus felt his breath catch. The touch was so gentle, that it made his heart beat faster in a way that had nothing to do with the accident.
Ethan said something from somewhere near the door. Marcus could hear his voice, could tell he was speaking, but he couldn't make out the words…something about going back, about giving them space.
But Marcus couldn't focus on that. He was just looking at Ryan, taking in every detail of his face. The way his hair was still slightly damp from the rain outside. The way he clenched his jaw, like he was holding something back. The way his eyes were softer than Marcus had ever seen them.
"How are you feeling?" Ryan asked, his voice low and careful. He sounded so concerned, like he had been holding that question in for a while and it had finally found its way out.
Marcus opened his mouth to answer, but his throat was dry and his voice came out hoarse. "Did Ethan call you?" he asked instead, looking apologetic. He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't wanted Ryan to worry, to drop everything and come here. The guilt settled heavy in his chest, mixing with the relief of seeing him.
Ryan nodded slowly. "He did," he said. Then, as if Marcus hadn't heard the question the first time, he asked again, "How are you feeling?"
Marcus swallowed, his throat still rough. "I'm fine," he said automatically, the words coming out before he could think about them. It was what he always said, what he had been saying to the nurses and to Ethan and to everyone who asked. But as soon as he said it, he knew it wasn't true.
They just looked at each other for a moment, the silence stretching between them. It wasn't uncomfortable, not exactly, but it was heavy. There were so many things neither of them was saying, so many feelings swirling in the air between them that Marcus didn't know how to name.
After a while, Marcus let out a slow breath and admitted, "I'm not fine." His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. "I'm sorry for making things awkward with the voice note I sent."
The words hung in the air, and Marcus couldn't look at Ryan anymore. He stared down at their hands instead, at the way Ryan's fingers were still resting on his. He felt embarrassed, exposed, like he had opened himself up in a way he couldn't take back.
Ryan was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Don't worry about it." His voice was soft, reassuring. "I didn't feel weirded out by it."
Marcus looked up at him, surprised. Ryan's expression was honest, open in a way that made Marcus's chest ache.
"I just didn't know what to say after that," Ryan continued. There was something vulnerable in his tone, something that made Marcus realize Ryan had been struggling with this too. That the silence hadn't been dismissal or disinterest. It had been uncertainty.
Marcus felt something loosen in his chest, some tight knot of anxiety that had been sitting there for days. He looked at Ryan, at the way he was sitting so close, at the way his hand was still covering his, and before he could stop himself, he asked, "Can you hug me?"
The question came out quietly, almost tentative, like he was afraid of what Ryan might say. But he needed it, he needed to feel something solid, something real, something that would ground him in this moment.
Ryan didn't hesitate. He leaned in carefully, mindful of Marcus's injuries, and wrapped his arms around him. It was gentle but firm, the kind of embrace that felt safe, Marcus closed his eyes and leaned into it, his face pressed against Ryan's shoulder. He could smell the faint scent of rain on Ryan's clothes, he could feel the warmth of his body against his.
Both of their hearts were beating fast and uncomfortably, loud enough that Marcus wondered if Ryan could feel it too. The hug lasted longer than it probably should have, neither of them pulling away, neither of them willing to let go just yet. Marcus felt something shift inside him, something that had been tightly wound for so long finally beginning to unravel.
When they finally pulled apart, it was slow, reluctant. Ryan kept one hand on Marcus's shoulder for a moment before letting it drop back to the bed.
Ryan's expression had changed slightly. There was still concern there, but now there was something else too. Something Marcus couldn't quite read. "What happened?" Ryan asked, his voice quiet but steady. "How did you get into an accident?"
Marcus looked down at his hands, trying to find the words. He didn't want to lie, but he didn't want to tell the whole truth either. Not yet. Not when everything still felt so raw and uncertain.
"I crashed into someone else's car by mistake," Marcus said finally, his voice still hoarse. "On my way home. I didn't see them in time."
He didn't tell Ryan the details. He didn't tell him that he was sure it was a planned accident, that the way the other car had swerved felt too deliberate, too calculated. He didn't tell him that he had been on his way to meet Ryan, that he had been so distracted by the thought of seeing him that he hadn't been paying enough attention to the road.
Those were things he couldn't say right now, not when his head was still pounding and his thoughts were still scattered.
Ryan nodded slowly, his jaw tightening slightly. Marcus could tell he wanted to ask more, that there were questions forming behind his eyes, but he didn't push. He just accepted the answer Marcus gave him.
Marcus was feeling sleepy again. The exhaustion was creeping back in, heavy and insistent, pulling at the edges of his consciousness. But he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to keep looking at Ryan, to memorize the way he looked sitting there beside him, the way his hand was resting on the bed close to his. He wanted to hold on to this moment for as long as he could.
But he couldn't fight it. His eyelids were getting heavier, his thoughts starting to blur at the edges.
Ryan seemed to notice. He shifted slightly, his hand moving to rest on top of Marcus's hand again. This time, he started stroking it gently, his thumb moving in slow, soothing circles over Marcus's knuckles. The touch was so gentle, so careful, that it made Marcus want to cry.
"It's okay," Ryan said softly. "You can sleep. I'll be here."
Marcus wanted to say something, wanted to tell Ryan how much it meant that he had come, how much it meant that he was here now. But the words wouldn't come. His eyes were already closing, his body giving in to the exhaustion.
The last thing he felt before he slept off was Ryan's warm hand on his, and the quiet assurance that he wasn't alone.