Parasite║LGBT+ Romance 🏳️‍🌈

21: Epilogue

Dawn's half-light streams into my little room. When I'd first seen the sun I'd been astonished by its inescapable brightness and warmth, never quite replicated accurately by sims.

Shy drags me out of my thoughts by flying in and signing manically, "He's awake."

I spring out of bed then crash back against the blankets, my head in a whirl. But Shy's smile is worth the nausea. The past three days have shot by in a blur: I've been interviewed countless times by Earth authorities in the search for Meg. The inquiry into Kida Biotech's practices has already uncovered eleven grievous crimes that Meg must be brought to trial for. Shy has barely slept with helping to analyse the PCR files brought to Earth. She's leading on the project to develop a controlled freezing procedure to remove nematode colonies safely from her partner, Zichen, and from the others working as underground automata. As urgent as the investigation into Kida Biotech is, my priority has been to keep watch over Shiro.

But now my love is free, on Earth, and awake.

"When?"

"Four hours ago." Shy sits heavily in the bedside chair, itching her belly.

"Four hours?" I scramble up and hop around the room, signing in between shrugging on hospital clothes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"He has short-term memory loss. He doesn't remember you yet, but he's ready to meet you now."

Thoughts scatter and reunite in a ragged jumble. "He doesn't remember me? What did you tell him about me?"

"Everything. Memory loss is common, and only lasts a few hours. Don't worry."

Shy's reassurances mean nothing. The fears that infiltrated my brain on arrival on Earth multiply with abandon. What if Shiro's radiation sickness is too severe to recover from? What if his ankle doesn't heal? What if the extraordinary events of the past weeks have caused him irreparable trauma? What if he no longer loves me?

As if she can read my floundering mind, Shy prods me unceremoniously through the door. We pad along corridors, the Fukuoka sunrise flooding through gaps in hospital blinds as we go. I halt at the door to Shiro's room. Having wandered in and out of his room as his partner for the past three days, I'm now entering as a stranger. Shiro doesn't remember me. I pat down my hair and straighten my clothes hoping that he isn't disappointed by his unkempt and unknown love.

Shy and Shiro sign to each other at an incredible speed. My lenses offer glimpses of a risible exchange between them. I wait at the door until their bickering peters out.

Shy then signs slowly enough for me to follow along, "This is Heems."

I peek at Shiro, unsure if I should approach the bed. He's propped up on pillows, all drowsy and pale. I'm supposed to be wearing the bravest of faces but the sight of him carries me a few careful breaths away from tears. Shy signs indecipherable instructions to him and then leaves us alone.

Piercing eyes explore and characterise and analyse. A pale hand emerges from under sheets. Shiro pats the bed and says, "Come and sit."

"Are you feeling OK?" I nestle at the foot of the bed, afraid to gaze in case it all overwhelms Shiro.

"Just tired." Shiro blinks and grimaces as if it's taking a monumental effort not to let his head loll on the pillow. "Come closer."

I move to the chair near his head, the very chair I've been sleeping, eating and interviewing in for almost three days. "Sleep if you need to."

"I want to talk first. Shy says you've not left my side for the past three sols. I mean days."

"I haven't." I stare into my lap, my face twitching in an effort not to cry. But it's no use. Sobs shake me. Before I know it Shiro has me tight in his arms and I'm weeping into his shoulder. "I've been so scared, Shiro."