author's note: Shae's POV. Freddie and Shae are about 19 and a couple. Freddie is just recovering from a head injury after a motorcycle accident (a hematoma, due to an injury months ago and a slight hit to the head some weeks before this scene; [it's possible, I checked]). How stupidly melodramatic is that? I know. But you gotta see the bigger picture here.;) Shae is mute, but can hear.
 

This is our first night back home. In our bed. At night. Sleeping together. Well, Freddie is sleeping. I’m not. I can’t. Wonder why I always end up being the one with insomnia and the fucker sleeps like a log. 

Wonder if he ever watched me sleep, thinking, wondering. Being glad I was there. I’m sure glad he’s here with me. I know I could have lost him. But he’s here. Resting. As he should be. I’m more than glad. Grateful. Happy. Ecstatic. And terrified. Why doesn’t the fear go away ? Ever since I saw him lying there, pale, unmoving, it’s there, this constant nagging, deep inside me. 

Freddie never gave me any indication he was scared. He just seemed to take it. Passing out, hospital, surgery, recovery, medication. The fact that he cannot remember certain things, names, words, that he keeps forgetting things, that sometimes he starts to stutter. It’ll get better, we were told. And he just seemed to accept that. 

I know another version of Freddie would have freaked. But not this one. Not this Freddie who struggled through Cade’s illness, Ryan’s breakdown, who yelled at me he fucking hated the fact I couldn’t speak and shocked himself with saying it, who let me make love to him afterwards. This Freddie who told me he loved me in the parking lot on my first day at university. He seemed happy for the first time. Really happy, ever since I knew him. And that’s an awfully long time. Not long enough. Never long enough. It could have ended all within the blink of an eye, as they say. But he’s here, taking it all. Why can’t I do that ? 

I wonder if he’ll ever talk about it. Despite his new and improved self, he is still not one for talking. He tends to bury it all until, maybe, some day it all comes bursting out with a vengeance. Like the day he admitted he wished I could talk, wished he could hear my voice. I don’t think he ever considered it’s the same for me. And that’s just it. It wasn’t that any of us wanted a solution, it just needed to…be out there. Said. In whatever way. So we know where we’re at. The fact that he can never hear me say how much he means to me, that I can never whisper anything sweet, or naughty, in his ear doesn’t mean we cannot be together. Or don’t want to be. We’ll just have to deal with it. Like we did for years. Maybe that is what has learned to do with his imperfections. Deal. Cause there isn’t much you can do. 

Personally, I can deal with the fact that I’m a fucking mute. It’s harder to see man I love ending up with a goddamn bleeding in his head because of some- Don’t go there. It’s no use. He’s here. I tell myself over and over again, like a mantra. He’s here in my arms, lying against my chest. Breathing through his mouth. Something he only does when he’s exhausted, or drunk. Somehow I wish he was only drunk. It looks kinda cute.
Hell, he is cute. But I don’t think he’d like me to tell him that. He doesn’t even want to hear he’s beautiful. Even if all of it is true, to me. Sometimes he looks at me and says “You’re pretty.” Then he scrunches up his nose and grins, like he was kidding. But we both know he isn’t. And that’s okay. Anything else, Freddie doesn’t care for. He’s terribly vain, but it’s about himself only. I know he would never judge anyone for looks. It’s admirable. 
I have no idea how he does that. 

I let my fingers run through his hair and pull him closer to me with my other arm. The fear washes over me again. I could have lost that. I remember the feeling of it slipping through my fingers at the hospital. When he- A whimper from below brings me back to the present. Freddie’s right comes up to his ribs, which I realize I have in a death grip. Shit. 

Quickly, I release him. He rubs his side and blinks up at me. 

“Sorry”, I sign. I have no idea if he gets that upside down, if he gets it at all so shortly after waking up. Sometimes he doesn’t immediately remember where he is. Or who he’s with. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again. Probably he didn’t get it.

But then I hear his voice “Stronger than you look, are you?” 

He opens one eye again and looks up, I shrug and smile a small smile. Okay, he knows who I am. I climb out from under him and watch him settle down, snuggling into the pillow. Cute. Beautiful. Aware. Moving.  Breathing. Joking. I don’t want him joking, I want- I don’t know what I want. 

Suddenly I want to get away. And return to holding him at the same time. 

“Shae?” 

I meet his eyes. He’s been watching me. I want to answer him, yet I cannot get my arms to move. His eyes flit across my face and he reaches out and rubs my thigh. I know that gesture. He is figuring out what to do. Bites his lip. Yeah, he doesn’t have a clue. He entangles his fingers with mine, sits up, I feel him pushing me back down on the bed. I oblige, even though I want to run. He lies down half on top of me. He can’t possibly be thinking of fucking me now, can he? With Freddie you never know. I look at his eyes. No. No sex. He reaches up and caresses my cheek. He’ll make me cry, the fucker. I try to choke it back, but I know he heard it. Leaning down, his face is so close to mine. I can feel his breath wash over my face. I can’t even begin to describe how good that feels. His weight, his warmth, his touch. He backs a little and smiles at me. 

“Hey,” he whispers. 

Now, I’m the one having no clue. So I just attempt another smile and mouth back a ‘hey’. 

He grins, leans in again and rubs my nose with his. Then I feel his lips on my own. It’s a gentle, sweet kiss. Reassurance. 

When he pulls back, his face is serious again. “I’m still here,” he tells me. 

Fucking amazing. He did get it. “I know”, I mouth. 

“Good,” he says, then lies back down, pulling me against him, making spoons. His leg over mine. 

“Now go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere,” I hear his voice at my ear. 

I know that, too. Still, I’m scared. But for tonight, I guess I’ll let myself believe him and sleep.
 

[ return ]
 

Prior: I'm not ... distracted, I'm doing research. Harper: On Mormons ? Prior: On ... Angels. I'm a ... an Angelologist. Harper: I never met an angelologist before. Prior: It's an obscure discipline.