by Kallysten
Calden has never told anyone about the nickname, nor does he plan to ever do so. He never talks about Riley; it hurts too much. He wrote this note, he’s sure of it, the same way he is sure he wrote the tattoos on his body.
Closing the file, Calden looks at his text messages. They look normal enough. His conversations with his mother are as biting and confrontational as ever, and about silly, unimportant things—thank God. His messages to Eli are infrequent, and Calden guesses that’s because, more often than not, Eli is with him. Scrolling back, he finds three instances in which he sent Eli a single word. Twice, it’s ‘Hallucinations.’ Once, ‘Sleepy.’ Every time, Eli’s answer is immediate. ‘On my way,’ or ‘Wait for me.’
Setting the phone and notebook aside, Calden links his fingers over his stomach and tries to relax, taking in deep breaths through his nose and closing his eyes, the same way he always does before surgery. Earlier in the bathroom he did a quick check of his memories, accessing them without referencing any cues, taking shortcuts. Now, he approaches from the outside and mentally walks up to the front steps of his grandparents’ home, then inside from room to room, checking that each and every visual cue is where it belongs.
On his way, he mentally steps out into the backyard and stands by the pond. The three new stones he created earlier are still there, their meaning easily accessible, like every other cue’s. Reaching for his phone again, he creates a new note for himself.
11/15. Added 3 new step stones to koi pond. Are they still there?
Putting the phone away, he closes his eyes again and returns to his memory. One room after the other, he continues to tour the home, taking inventory, vaguely aware after some time has passed that there is noise around him.
Water running in the bathroom upstairs. Steps down the staircase. Coffee maker. Porcelain on wood. All of it is unfamiliar; it’s been years since he lived with anyone. Still, those quiet sounds don’t draw him out of his mind. Eli’s voice, on the other hand, does. Or maybe it’s not so much his voice as the fingers gently running through Calden’s hair.
“Coffee?”
“Busy,” Calden replies, mindlessly tilting his head out of Eli’s reach. He likes the contact, but it’s too distracting. “I’m—”
“Checking your memory palace, yes,” Eli says with a small sigh. “Would you believe me if I said you’re not going to find anything out of place?”
Unvoiced is the corollary. You never do.
Part of Calden wants to object that he won’t know for sure until he does it. But that’s the point Eli is making, isn’t it? Calden has done this before. Probably repeatedly, since it was his first instinct. The result is unlikely to be any different now than previously, and if he’d found something wrong, then Eli would surely know.
“Yes, coffee,” he says, opening his eyes to look at Eli.
He’s wrapped in a terrycloth robe, the front drawn tightly over his chest. Calden wishes he could see the words on his skin again.
With a small smile, Eli nods and returns to the kitchen. He comes back with two mugs. Calden sits up to take his and watches, slightly bemused, as Eli sits at the other end of the sofa, briefly lifting Calden’s feet to reposition them on his lap. His fingers remain curled around Calden’s right ankle, as possessive as his arm when Calden woke up.
After taking a sip of coffee, Eli says, “Go ahead. I know you’ve got questions, and it always annoys you when I answer before you ask.”
He’s looking straight ahead of him rather than at Calden. Why? Not something he’ll ask, but definitely to ponder.
“Why is there nothing about you in my diary?”
Eli nods as though he expected the question.
“My request. I don’t think you ought to learn about us from words on a page. I’d rather tell you myself.”
Us. The word rolls easily on Eli’s tongue. Why it makes Calden’s insides feel like they’re dancing a jig is another question that will remain unvoiced.
“How long have we been ‘us’?” he asks instead.
A small smile curls Eli’s mouth. He hides it in his mug before answering.
“September fifth.”
Thinking back of what he read in the notebook, Calden makes two connections. That was the day he worked on a heart transplant and wasn’t allowed to take part in the aftercare, or even wait for the patient to wake up. Also the day when he noted that Eli had changed his mind and would allow up to four days of wakefulness. How these things are all linked, however, he cannot guess.
“Is that when…” He doesn’t know how to word it. He doesn’t care much for grand declarations as a rule, but something within him aches at the thought that those words were said and he can’t recall the moment. Absently, he touches his chest and the sentences inked there. The movement draws Eli’s eyes to him.
“That’s when I said it, yes,” Eli says quietly, but not so quietly that Calden can’t hear the hitch in his voice.
Calden absolutely hates that he needs to ask, “And what happened?”
Eli’s face takes an amused expression. “What happened was that you ran out. You were gone for three hours. Scared the hell out of me. I had to call your mother to ask her to track you down. In the end, you came back before her people found you. And you had this—” Letting go of Calden’s ankle, he reaches out and traces two fingers along the first two lines on Calden’s skin. “—on your chest. You said you wanted it there because that was information as important as your diagnosis and something you should never question.”
Still shivering from Eli’s brief touch, Calden looks down at the words. The explanation sounds like something Calden would say; something he can easily believe.
“So… you said… you said this. And I ran out right away? So I didn’t actually say it back?”
Eli smiles a little wider. “It didn’t occur to you at the time that I might actually want to hear it rather than watch you run away. Jerk.”
How many times has Eli recalled this story? Does he always end it by calling Calden ‘jerk’? It’s frustrating not to know. It’s also frustrating not to know what Eli’s voice sounds like when he says it, or the way his lips curl around the words, or whether his eyes tighten a little at the corners, the way they always did when he talked about—
“What about Bryce?”
Calden regrets the question as soon as it passes his lips—as soon as Eli’s smile fades into a pained line. Waiting for Eli to answer, Calden makes a mental note. Before he goes to sleep, he needs to write in the diary.
Do not bring up Bryce.
“We split up,” Eli says quietly, now staring into his coffee mug. “We were already shaky, and then…”
In his tense shrug, Calden reads a word. Illness. He’s the reason ‘shaky’ turned into ‘over.’ He feels like maybe an apology would be warranted, but it’d also be disingenuous. He never liked Bryce, never liked how little time his mere existence left for Calden’s friendship with Eli—and he’s fairly certain the dislike was mutual. Eli forgave him for past missteps, but Bryce always found a reason to bring them up again.
“I’d like to hear you say the words,” Calden says abruptly, sitting upright and folding his legs in front of him. “I can’t imagine what they sound like in your voice, and it’s annoying.”
Eli’s smile returns, a little crooked, a little softer than before. He turns sideways on the sofa, one foot still on the floor, the other folded under him as he faces Calden fully.
“Nope. That’s not how it works. I learned my lesson. You only get to hear it if you say it first.”
Calden’s eyes widen in outrage. “Are you blackmailing me?”
Eli chuckles. “Is it blackmail when you have the truth tattooed across your chest?”
Glancing down at his chest again, Calden touches the second line, running his fingers along the words from left to right as he says them.
“I told Eli I love him.” His cheeks feel awfully warm when he looks up and meets Eli’s eyes. “I’ve never… never
told anyone that.”
He never wanted to, not until Eli, but even then he missed his chance to say it. Or at least, he thought he had.
Eli takes the mug from Calden’s hands, and sets it and his own on the floor. Then, he shifts a little closer, and slides a hand to the back of Calden’s neck. He’s never done it before as far as Calden can recall, and yet it feels oddly familiar. Comfortable, even.
“You’ve said it plenty of times,” Eli says. “Heard it just as often. But because you’re a lucky bastard, you get to hear it again like it’s brand new. Ready?”
Calden’s throat tightens, and he nods. Eli leans a little closer still, until he can murmur right against Calden’s lips.
“I love you.”
(next chronological chapter)
June 2nd
“You are a complete asshole,” Eli said as he stormed into Calden’s house. “Do you even realize that? Is that something you can comprehend?”
It took him no time to find Calden, sprawled on the sofa in his boxers and dressing gown, an arm curled over his face like a swooning regency heroine, his dark hair untamed and wild.
“I don’t know if I comprehend,” Calden said, his voice muffled by his elbow, “but I’ve been told often enough. What did I do this time?”
“What did—”
Eli bit back a curse and stood by the sofa. His glaring was completely lost on Calden, who still hid behind his arm.
“You know damn well what you did!” he exploded. “You’ve been hounding me to meet at the café for lunch for a week instead of just eating in the hospital cafeteria. I took time off especially for that—”
Got in an argument with my husband about it when I told him, but that part he only said in his mind.
“—I waited for you for an hour before ordering, with Lola giving me the stink eye the entire time because she’s still convinced I dumped you and you can’t be bothered to tell her we’ve never been more than friends. And the entire time you’re just here, lounging in your robe like…”
An awful suspicion rose inside Eli. Taking hold of Calden’s wrist, he pushed the sleeve up, exposing the inside of his arm. Nothing there, he was relieved to see.
“Let go,” Calden protested, trying to tug his arm free, but Eli wasn’t done.
Leaning in close, he sniffed Calden’s breath. No alcohol. Unless…
“Hungover?” he asked, too annoyed to even make it a proper question.
Calden gave another weak tug on his arm, and Eli finally let go, watching him cover his face again.
“I wish,” Calden muttered. “It’d mean there was at least something pleasant before this. To the risk of being boring, I’m sober in every sense of the word. I just have the most horrible headache.”
Eli was trying to hold on to his annoyance—if Calden wasn’t feeling well, he could at least have called him!—but Calden surprised him by peeking from under his arm and mumbling, “Sorry about lunch. If I’d realized it was so late, I’d have told you I wasn’t up for it.”
His eyes were bloodshot, his pupils contracted. Headache severe enough that not only he wasn’t whining but he was also apologizing. What else? Was that a cold sore at the corner of his mouth?
“Do you have a fever?” Eli asked, slipping into doctor mode. He reached past Calden’s arm to press a hand to his forehead. “Pain anywhere else? Did you take anything for it?”
“Fever, yes. No other pain. Out of aspirin.”
He shifted his head into Eli’s hand, maximizing contact. He definitely felt too warm, and not just because Eli’s hand was cool. And of course he was out. Medical supplies, even something as basic as aspirin, were hard to come by. The city was, after all, officially under siege.
“Right,” Eli said wryly, pulling his hand free. “I’m going to downgrade you from complete asshole to big baby who can’t take care of a little headache. And you owe me lunch when you’re better.”
Calden mumbled something, but Eli, on his way to the kitchen, did not understand.
“What did you say?” he called out as he ran a towel under cold water before wringing out the excess.
“Said it’s a big headache,” Calden said, slurring the words a little.
“Of course it is. Drop your arm. There you go. Does that feel nice?”
His forehead and eyes covered by the cool towel, Calden hummed something that might have been a thank you.
“I’ve got aspirin at my apartment,” Eli said, squeezing Calden’s shoulder once. “I won’t be long, all right?”
Calden made a vaguely affirmative noise.
As Eli left the house and climbed into his car, a little voice that sounded awfully like Bryce’s whispered in his ear.
He’s taking advantage of you. Like he always does.
But Calden hadn’t asked for anything, Eli replied to the little voice. In fact, he hadn’t asked Eli for his usual favors since Bryce had confronted him about taking advantage of Eli three weeks ago. Calden had stormed off then, and he hadn’t said a word to Eli at the hospital for days, until he’d asked to meet over lunch. He’d said he had something to tell Eli.
Eli knew better than to expect an apology. In all the years they’d known each other, Calden couldn’t possibly have uttered the word ‘sorry’ more than a couple of times, despite having cause far more often than that. Still, Eli had vaguely hoped for an acknowledgment from Calden that, yes, he’d been overly needy in the past months, both at the hospital and out of it. Something was up with him, but Eli couldn’t figure out what it was.
Needy was Eli’s word. Bryce called Calden’s behavior obnoxious. He couldn’t understand why Eli tolerated it from Calden when he’d have called anyone else on it. Eli had tried to explain that he’d been Calden’s best friend before they started working together at the hospital, and that he was used to his antics. Calden couldn’t be bothered to keep to his schedule, and he always tried to trade patients he considered uninteresting for more challenging cases, but the truth of it all was that he was the best surgeon the town had. Eli knew that firsthand and owed him, if not his life, at least his right arm. Whether Calden was needy and obnoxious or not, they needed him. Bryce had glared daggers at Eli when he’d said that.
As familiar as Calden’s behavior was, Bryce’s response had taken Eli by surprise. Others complained about Calden, doctors and nurses alike, but after seeing what he could do with a scalpel or needle, they grew more tolerant. Bryce, on the other hand, simply couldn’t stand him, and he didn’t even work with them directly, instead driving one of the ambulances that ran back and forth from the hospital to the walls that had been built to protect the city every time the demons attacked.
Calden had told Eli to ask Bryce about his ex-husband, that it’d explain why he was so suspicious. Eli had managed to hide from Calden that he hadn’t known Bryce had been married before. He had yet to ask Bryce if it was true. It probably was; Calden had a knack for discovering things about people.
His apartment wasn’t far. In ten minutes, Eli was there and back. Coming back into Calden’s house, Eli hung his jacket and stepped into the kitchen. He popped a pill from the bottle, filled a glass with cold water, and took both to Calden, who apparently hadn’t moved since Eli had left.
“Hey. I’m back. Sit up for a bit.”
He had to shake Calden’s shoulder before his body jerked, the towel sliding off his face. He blinked repeatedly, frowning up at Eli.
“Eli?” he said drowsily. “What are you doing here?”
“Got you aspirin like I said. Sit up.”
Calden did sit up, and he took the glass and pill Eli was handing him, but he sounded—and looked—downright confused. “Like you said? What? When?”
Eli frowned. “When I was here earlier. Don’t you remember? I called you an asshole and a big baby?”
Calden was beyond confused now and well into mystified territory. “You called me what?” he swallowed the pill, chasing it down with the glass of water. “God, but my—”
His body froze, his mouth becoming slack, the empty glass sliding from his grasp and onto the cushion next to him.
“Calden?”
Eli’s eyes widened. He had to fight his instinct to shake Calden by the shoulders and grabbed his wrist instead. He took his pulse while leaning in close enough to watch his pupils; they weren’t dilated to the same degree, one a small dot in an ocean, the other wide enough to swallow most of the blue.
“Calden! Can you hear me?”
“—head hurts,” Calden said, blinking once, then again when he realized how close Eli was. “What… Eli?”
“You just had an absence seizure,” Eli said, releasing his wrist. “I’m taking you to the hospital. Don’t even think about arguing with me.”
The fact that Calden did not try to argue only added to Eli’s worry. Calden hated being in a hospital as a patient and would do or say anything to avoid that situation. His passivity now was disturbing, and he barely said a word when Eli went to find some clothes up in his bedroom and helped him into them.
When Calden had another absence seizure in the car, Eli drove a little faster, beginning to regret not having called an ambulance. The city wasn’t under attack at the moment, which meant that the streets were busy, small electric cars like Eli’s weaving around each other in near silence and making the ride to the hospital that much longer. There were talks of restricting traffic to preserve resources now that the demon attacks were becoming more frequent and making the supply roads unsafe.
Finally parking his car by the emergency entrance, Eli told Calden to wait in the car while he went to get a wheelchair. The fact that Calden actually listened to him didn’t bode well. As he wheeled Calden inside, Eli mentally reviewed the staff schedule. Being in charge of it, he knew who was on duty at the moment.
Doctor Bonneville was their neurologist, but she only had a few years of experience. Doctor Samford, an emergency doctor and surgeon, had been practicing longer than anyone else and still had the steadiest hands in the hospital, except for Calden. There was also the fact that she was one of the few people Calden didn’t try to antagonize on sight.
