My Better Half (Sequel to My Cup of Tea)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Simon was released after two nights. He felt fine (or as fine as he could, he supposed) when he woke up from his surgery, but they had still wanted to keep him for observation. With the pain meds, the pain in his head had been reduced to a dull throb and the his legs just felt stiff. Logically, Simon knew that when he left the hospital and didn't have the medicine attached to him like he did now, things would be different. The doctors said it would be hard for him to talk for a while, that breathing might be difficult, and that his brain would be fuzzy. Baz and Penny sat by his side on the last day in the hospital, each of them holding one of his hands as the doctor explained all of it. 

"So what can we do?" Penny asked. "Is there some sort of therapy thing or exercise we can help him with for cognitive function and walking?"

The doctor sighed and set down her clipboard. "I would recommend physical therapy for the legs, which should be easy enough, and I can recommend some basic cognitive exercises and I can give you the name of a colleague who could prove useful for this sort of thing. But I'm not sure how much it will help."

Simon felt his breath hitch in his throat.

It had been admittedly difficult for him to think and speak over these past two days, but he thought it was purely circumstantial. His mind had always been a bit foggy, anyway, so he hadn't really thought of it as an issue. Stringing sentences together had always proved difficult, especially if those sentences were in some important context (like talking about his feelings). Struggling with speaking wasn't abnormal, but he figured that the increased difficulty he had experienced since waking up would just go away when he went home and things could get back to normal. 

But now, as the doctor distantly explained something about brain structure and the extent of his injuries, Simon realized that this––the whole physically not being able to think thing wasn't temporary. This thick, impenetrable mind fog was a part of him now. Maybe it could improve with therapy and cognitive whatever, but the truth was that things were different now. He looked nervously to Baz and Penny, his heart thumping inside his chest.

Penny would stick by his side, even if it broke her. He knew that. 

Baz...

Well, he wanted to believe that Baz would stick by him, but Baz was smart. He was an intellectual type who wanted to have thought-provoking conversations and heated, well-argued debates about the uselessness of the letter "J." Before, Simon could hardly keep up with it all. And now...

Baz squeezed his hand as the doctor left to give the three of them a minute to process (or, more likely, for Baz and Penny to explain) what had been said. Breathing was growing hard for Simon now––he could feel a panic attack coming on. He looked to Penny with fear and pain in his eyes, wordlessly explaining what was happening. 

She started doing her breathing exercises with him and Baz rubbed circles on his back slowly to keep his breaths measured and calm. Simon closed his eyes and gave both of their hands a squeeze to thank them. 

"That's just one doctor's opinion," Penny argued. "And she's not even a brain specialist. She hasn't got a clue what she's saying."

To his right, Baz nodded in agreement. "Exactly. We'll see a thousand specialists before we admit defeat, you hear me? And Bunce and I...we're both here for you during your recovery. We'll be there every step of the way both literally and metaphorically and we will love you infinitely until you get sick and tired of us and cast us out."

Simon managed a chuckle but he was still trying to think through and process everything that Baz had said. It was like there was a delayed reaction––like he didn't have a good signal and the words and Baz's mouth weren't synched up. 

Baz must've noticed that Simon's chuckle was fake or he must've noticed the light go out in his eyes when he tried to think about the words. 

"Sn––Simon?" Baz asked, using his free hand to cup Simon's cheek. "Are you okay, love?"

"I...can––Pen, can we have the room? Me and Baz? For...a moment?"

Penny nodded and gave him a quick squeeze before leaving the room.

"Baz," Simon said, turning to face his stupidly beautiful boyfriend (he'd never get used to that). "I...it's okay. If––I know you said you wanted me..."

"I do, Simon."

Simon shook his head. "It's okay if you don't any...anymore. With the way I am. With my brain like––"

Baz cupped his face again, running his delicate fingers across Simon's jaw. "I love you," he said. "I love you when you cry, I love you when you laugh, I love you when you yell at me, and I love you when you just cuddle against me because you don't know what to say. And, honestly, you've never been much for words. I don't mean that to be cruel, love. I just mean that you, Simon Snow, are who you are because of you actions, not your words. Every touch, every smile, every tear, every bloody thing you do shows me who you are. And maybe this doctor is right and maybe you won't have one hundred percent mental clarity again, but it doesn't matter to me one fucking bit. I am so ridiculously in love with you, so if you continue to be in love with me, or if you continue to even tolerate me, I'll stay right by your side and continue to show you how much you mean to me. If you want to go through the therapy, I'll be with you for every triumph and every setback. I adore you for who you are in your entirety––your spirit. And I will always adore you."

Simon kissed him then because he had no words to describe the way that Baz's words made him feel. There was no response suitable to convey the depth of his emotions and the endless pool of love that he felt for Baz in this moment. Baz kissed him back slowly and softly like he was afraid that Simon would break if he pressed too far or gave too much.

When they pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other, Baz smiled at him. "I know, Simon," he said. "I know."

Maybe it would all be okay. Maybe Simon could carry on doing this––kissing Baz, touching Baz––instead of speaking to him. Maybe these physical affirmations were all that they needed to keep themselves together––to keep Simon from falling apart.