Sasha Martin Stanford (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
beautifulday) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamlikenewyork2023-07-07 11:55 pm
beautifulday) wrote in dreamlikenewyork2023-07-07 11:55 pm
"If the memory fade of you, can the memory fade of me?"
Who: Sasha Stanford and Justin Campbell
What: Tiny steps of recovery
Where: Sydney, Australia
When: After this
It took some time for the nurses and a wardsman (who had been helping with various things related to Justin’s care since he had woken from the first surgery here and was always so kind and chatty to him) to get Justin transferred from bed back into the special reclinable wheelchair yet again. It had been a few days since Justin had been in to see Sash and the awful realisation hit that Sash didn’t remember ever meeting him. The same day, Justin started showing symptoms of what turned out to be a kidney infection, a complication resulting from the surgery he had to repair the bladder rupture, one of the multiple serious injuries he sustained in the crash. The catheter he still had and his history of kidney injury from an overdose put him at risk. It was another thing to throw on the shitpile. He wasn’t surprised. Just exhausted and feeling crappy with it. He had turned down the request for Sash’s parents to come talk to him and his dad told them it was probably best to wait until Justin wasn’t feeling so poorly for him to visit Sash again.
But he knew the longer he waited to face it all again, the harder it would be and the more he would struggle to push on. He still had pain in his back and side which was different to what he’d had with the injuries and was chilled from the fever but that morning, when Ava had told him Sash had been saying his name, he agreed to go in to see him. Only after plucking up the courage to ask her if he said his actual name or called him Ren or Bueller again. It should’ve been funny, like a joke. There was nothing funny about it and it terrified him to seek clarification. Ava was so gentle with him and he was glad there was a history between her and his dad because he knew he could trust her. She told him she heard with her own ears that Sash had said ‘Justin’ but it had seemingly been in the context of again wondering if he had imagined him there. Not seeing him again was confusing him when he was already confused neurologically. There was no way Justin could ignore that once he knew.
The nurse made sure his IV lines weren’t going to tangle on anything when they moved. Before the nurse could unlock the chair’s brakes, Justin held up a hand. “Can I just… have a minute, please?”
“Of course, you can, mate. How about I get you a heated blanket for your legs? I can see you’re still shivery, despite the cool bathrobe,” the nurse told him with a smile.
Justin nodded and murmured, “Thank you.” Once he was alone in the room for a brief window to try to brace himself to be taken through to Sash, he looked down at the bathrobe, a silky fluffy royal purple fleece with silver flecks through it and his initials embroidered in silver on his chest. Silver and purple were the signature colours of his brand. It was a present from Sash one time he had a long hospital stay. He was pretty much never without it when he was unwell and even slept in it during his worst depression episodes when he couldn’t get out of bed and all he could do was sleep. All of this was so fucking hard and making his stomach twist up with anxiety anticipating seeing Sash again. He didn’t want to fuck it up but he didn’t know how to deal with it either.
He took the time before the nurse returned to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths trying to calm his nerves. Every exhalation was shaky and he pulled his hands into the sleeves of the robe, desperately wanting to hide away in it and not think about any of this. Sometimes, the worst nightmares really were when you were awake.
Soon, the nurse returned and gently placed a fresh heated blanket over Justin’s lap, tucking the edges down beside his legs so it didn’t get caught in the wheels of the wheelchair. “Ready, mate? Ava just said she’s happy to go in with you if you want some support.”
“It’s okay. I know I can call for the nurses if I need help or he… if Sash… if he… something isn’t right.” Justin put a hand up to his mouth and looked at the floor. He could barely get his words out talking about Sash because it was agonising to think about him not knowing all they shared together. It felt like Justin’s heart was being physically ripped out of his chest cavity. “It’s fine. I—I’m ready.”
This time, the hospital room felt barren when Justin was wheeled through the doors. It was filled with medical equipment, screens, and a soundtrack of various sounds and tones coming from them all but other than the nurse pushing the wheelchair, it was only Justin and Sasha. Alone. Very alone. Inside, Justin was absolutely shitting himself and doing everything he could to draw on his acting skills to not show it outwardly.
As soon as Sash’s eyes fell to him, Justin wanted to burst into tears again and beg the nurse to stay because he didn’t know if he could do this without fucking it up. Sash didn’t even really look like himself anymore. His head was still heavily bandaged and Justin knew his hair had been shaved beneath it because of the surgery he needed to stem the bleeding and pressure from the injuries and also do whatever they did to treat the aneurysm. All Justin knew was he had brain surgery. It was too much for him to understand anything specific. There wasn’t a lot of heavy bruising left on Sash’s face but there were healing cuts that were sutured and grazes. His complexion was a sickly almost yellow colour and he had lost weight.
But his eyes. His eyes were still Sash’s, even if they were heavy and he was doing that thing where he was woozily gazing in one place, blinking slowly like he was trying to focus on what he was looking at. His face was expressionless, so Justin had nothing to anchor to here. He couldn’t know if it was because Sash couldn’t see him, didn’t recognise him again, or wasn’t even really conscious. So, after a couple of moments to really metaphorically grab his balls before he lost all nerve, he gently placed his hand over Sash’s like he would with any hospital patient he was meeting during one of his charity visits. He had to get through this without crying. Some fucking way, for Sash, he had to do it.
“Hi, buddy. It’s Justin again. I thought we could hang out for a bit. This place is a bit of a drag, huh?” Justin remembered to speak clearly and leaned close so Sash didn’t have to strain to see him like the doctor coached him. How would Sash go about this if their roles were reversed? He didn’t know but he was sure he would deal way better than Justin was.
Sasha blinked slowly a few more times, like he was coming through a haze and Justin saw the exact moment he recognised him again. At least, recognised the face of a celebrity he was a fan of. Is that what it was like for Sash’s brain, right now? Like being in a heavy haze until there was something he could tether his focus to? Justin understood that feeling. It was how he always felt regaining consciousness after a suicide attempt or any length of time he had been stuck in a psychotic episode. It was unnerving and distressing but Sash didn’t seem distressed. He had when he first began to regain consciousness but now it was hard to identify if he was feeling anything in particular. Justin now understood more about the cognitive process of emotions after talking with the brain injury specialist. Sash’s brain was seriously injured so the messages from his brain to the rest of him could be dodgy or scrambled for some time, until he healed. And if those injuries couldn’t heal, these sorts of things might be permanent, like they were with Jace. Though, Jace’s long-term injuries were less to do with emotional processing and more cognitive. How he couldn’t really read in the same way other people did, but he had been able to learn and understand the symbols of sign language and could do some short form texting. Yet, he was incredible at art and using artist tools like pencils, paintbrushes and his tattoo gun so expertly, Justin would literally never use another tattooist. It was too soon to now who Sash would be now, if he could ever be the person he was before and that was fucking terrifying.
And then, a smile when Sash’s gaze slowly explored Justin’s face and then looked down to where Justin was holding his hand. “This place…? I… dunno it. It’s… ni… night.” He stopped squeezing his eyes shut with a brief nose scrunch that had to be out of frustration. Justin didn’t interrupt him to correct him. “Ni—ce,” he eventually got out.
Justin returned the smile but his own nose scrunched a little. “Well, I don’t know if ‘nice’ would’ve been how I described it. It’s certainly very, uh…” Shit. It was shit. All hospitals were shit and it was even more shit being in one but he didn’t know if Sash could yet fully comprehend he was a patient. “White. It’s very white. Unless they’ve been giving you better food than I’ve been getting, in which case, I might need to speak to the manager. They must like you better,” he joked.
Something akin to a laugh came from Sash and for some reason, hearing it gave Justin a tiny burst of hope things weren’t as bleak as they seemed. “White,” he repeated after Justin said it.“Why are you…here?” Sash asked and he was looking at Justin’s hand around his again, a little furrow between his brows. He wasn’t pulling his hand away though.
“I got hurt in a car accident. It was super scary.” Justin cleared his throat and loosened his fingers around Sash’s in case he did want to try to pull away. The opposite happened. Sash turned his hand palm up, taking Justin’s hand too.
“Why am I here?” Sash looked back to Justin’s face.
Justin felt petrified now, both like a deer caught in headlights and probably what something like sitting the Bar exam unprepared felt like. He remembered how the doctor advised to take things with Sash, with his amnesiac state. Keep it simple, tell him the truth without telling him that truth — about them — and understand he would struggle processing some responses or getting his own words out. Fuck. There was so much Justin could fuck up. “You were in the car accident with me. You hurt your head. That’s why things feel fuzzy.”
“Oh.” Sash wet his lips. “But you’re not… I’m not… Broadway.”
“I can’t dance just now. I hurt my back in the car accident. I’ll go back to work when I’m better.” Justin nearly choked getting those words out. “How are you feeling?” he asked. It was worth a shot, though he suspected Sash either had no idea how he felt or, if he did, how to describe it.
“The… the thing. The… roll… roller thing.” Sash lifted his other hand, trying to make a gesture. “My head. Ow.”
Justin definitely had to give him that one. ‘Ow’ was a pretty damn fucking succinct way of putting it. “Your head feels like you’re rolling?
Sash scrunched his face up again. “Stomach.”
“Your stomach feels like… ohhhh. Your head hurts and making your stomach feel like you’re on a rollercoaster?” Justin tried to connect the dots. “You feel sick in your stomach?”
Sash’s reply was just the smallest of nods or maybe it was more of a shrug with the way Sash was frowning. It was hard for Justin to really tell. Maybe Sash just wasn’t really understanding what he was saying. What he did have though was the whole history of loving this guy more than life, which included his medical history. He wondered if Sash was blinking so much because the room was too bright and hurting his eyes, making him conscious of pain in his head. He had a long history of migraines and associated light sensitivity, it was probably unlikely that just went away because he had a head injury. He had a look at the bed controls on the panel of the bed rail and found the light dial there, so he turned the lights above Sash’s head right down as far as they would go. The room was a bit dimmer but definitely not starkly bright like it was. “There. That might help. If not, we’ll see if the nurses can turn some of the bigger lights out.”
Without the lights beating brightly down on him, Sash wasn’t squinting as much but he continued to watch Justin sitting beside him. Justin was used to being stared at and scrutinised but not like this. It wasn’t inquisitive, it wasn’t rude gawping (like some fans were experts at), it didn’t even seem like confusion. He was just watching him and Justin didn’t feel awkward or strange in the gaze. He just wished he understood more what Sash was taking in or how he was processing what he was being told.
“Is… Andi coming back?” Sash broke from looking at Justin, eyes skimming the room but clearly not clocking anything familiar to him. “She was here… the sun… it was water. It’s time to go.”
Justin drew in a ragged yet sharp intake of breath hearing the name. This was the part he was so fucking scared he was going to fuck up. He swallowed heavily, trying to get his throat to work around the thick, choked lump there so he didn’t tear up. He put his other hand over the top of Sash’s, now cradling it tenderly between his. He so wanted to believe Andi had been watching over Sash all this time and helped him come back but he was doubting all that more than ever now. Nothing bad should’ve happened to Sash in the first place. “You know,” he began but the words just came out in a scratchy whisper so he cleared his throat to try again. “I think Andi had to go see a doctor. Were you going somewhere with her?”
Sasha’s eyes got teary as he looked at Justin’s face with what looked like a mix of desperation and frustration at trying to understand. “I—I don’t… I…” he whimpered, the tears beginning to slip down his cheeks.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be scared, ba— mate.” Justin saw a box of tissues on the mobile tray table because hospital rooms always had them in easy reach and he grabbed some, softly patting Sash’s cheeks to mop up the tears. It was all he could do not to completely break down himself seeing Sash crying again. Not knowing why was so fucking hard, he knew Sash had to be terrified not being able to communicate what he was feeling. Justin had been there in the past and even though he didn’t remember the specific feelings at the time, he remembered being so frightened. “You’re not alone. It really hurts, huh?”
Trying not to cry was proving to be a challenge Justin wasn’t up to and he began to feel a panic bubble up inside him when he started to lose his footing with keeping up the act. He looked around the room, chewing on the corner of his thumbnail. Sash needed something to ground him, to anchor to, because he was sitting here with a complete stranger he thought he’d never met, frightened at the pain, frightened that he couldn’t get words out or help anyone understand what he was trying to communicate. “Okay. Shit…” he mumbled to himself and pressed the call button for the nurses, really not wanting to bother them for something that was urgent but he hoped it might be something that could help. “Sorry. My guitar is somewhere back in my room. I think behind the door, maybe. Can I have it brought through?”
He hadn’t played since before the accident but his grandparents brought the guitar to him just in case he felt like he wanted to. He hadn’t even been able to look at it, so terrified that the accident meant he could never perform again. On top of everything else, it was too much than he was ready to confront but there was no burying his head in the sand about the fact the reason he and Sash met and connected so deeply was music. If he kept trying to fly blindly with this and stumble around Sash not knowing how to communicate with him, it was going to be a disaster. He was already losing his footing. Sash was too. He couldn’t explain how he knew because Sash didn’t know how to communicate what he was feeling, but he was scared and he just hoped it was more to do with the fact no one would give him a straight answer about Andi’s whereabouts and less because Justin himself being there was freaking him out. He hoped if Andi really was somewhere she could read his thoughts and witness this shitshow, she forgave him for thinking that too. Her whereabouts could be justified. Justin being there when Sash thought he was a stranger, he didn’t think so much.
The nurse came back with his guitar, holding it carefully when she handed it to him. “Next time when I’m changing your dressings, you’ll have to explain to me how you make it look so effortless to play this on stage. It’s a lot heavier than it looks.” She smiled and scooped up the edge of his blanket that had slipped off his knees when he was wiping Sash’s tears for him.
“Blame my mom. She said Swarovski crystals are the best. That’s really not my gig but what I do know is they look awesome under stage lights. You kinda get used to handling your own equipment.” As soon as the words came out of Justin’s mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut and he winced, then shot the nurse an apologetic look. “Sorry. That sounded really wrong. I just mean, instruments are kinda like cars. You get accustomed to using your own. Only, instruments are more like an extension of yourself. Something about the extra weight of it grounds me on stage and some days, I’m packing it so much, any little helps. Thank you, though. Above and beyond your job.”
“Not at all.” The nurse softly patted his shoulder with a smile and once again, Justin was on his own with Sash.
Justin swallowed to wet his dry throat and rested his hand on the body of his guitar. He ran his fingers over the strings, that ever-familiar string noise bringing him a tiny bit of comfort. Sash’s eyes were on his guitar but his stare was still blank. It was only when he blinked again and Justin spotted Sash’s eyes follow his hand when it glided over the strings that he knew he was taking some of it in. “I know you’re feeling really awful and you don’t understand why. But I heard you really like music. So, I thought I’d play you something and you just have to listen. It won’t be loud. That can be the beauty of acoustic. But if it’s too much, you just say and I’ll stop. Okay? Don’t nod or move your head. I know it’s hurting. Just hold your hand up if you want me to stop.”
After finding a comfortable place for his guitar across his knee which wasn’t putting pressure on any part of him that was injured, he watched Sash’s face, he started to play an acoustic version of 'Beautiful Day' by U2, the song and band Sash told him were his favourite the day they met. Justin had played a full version of it on the piano for him that day, as a way to try to help alleviate Sash’s nerves about the meeting and connect with him. When he started to sing now, his voice was husky and definitely so very unconditioned but it wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t about perfection. All it was about was trying to find something — anything — that could help Sash feel better.
And something happened. Justin just wasn’t sure what. But there was a shift in Sash. At first, he still looked lost and confused about what was happening. Then he was watching Justin’s fingers on the guitar strings, almost like they were hypnotising him and he visibly seemed to relax and calm. It was when Justin got to the bridge of the song that something incredible happened. Sash’s eyes slowly moved up to Justin’s face and, although subtle and faint, a soft smile came to his lips. Justin would’ve given anything to know what Sash was thinking but he was settled for seeing it on his face. He smiled back and gave him a wink when he came to the end of the song.
“Again.”
It might’ve been the softest of requests, but it was unmistakable. Justin wrapped his hand around the neck of his guitar, silently coaching himself not to start crying and likely freak Sash out completely in the process. He didn’t think he would ever have to draw on his acting skills with the love of his life but here they were. He was suddenly more appreciative than ever of the gruelling acting bootcamps he spent hours on end in when he was first being prepped for a Broadway stage. He held the smile with a nod and swept his fingers back over the fingerboard to begin playing the song over again.
By the time he finished the song a second time, he couldn’t keep holding his emotions back. Tears welled up and spilled over without any hope of being able to stop them. He tried to hastily wipe them away before Sash saw, biting down on his lip to regain his composure. He hated everything about this. But what he hated the most was not being able to pull Sash into his arms and just hold him. He ached to feel his warmth in his arms, to smell hair, touch his face, kiss him.
“Your ribs.”
Justin looked up in confusion, wiping the dampness from his fingers onto the front of his gown. “My… what? Ribs?” This time he was sure he had to have misheard or that whatever Sash was trying to say, his brain was giving him the wrong word. He hadn’t said anything about his ribs. He had suffered chest trauma in the accident that led to something called a haemopneumothorax where they had to drain blood and air from his chest cavity when he couldn’t breathe properly, but that was already healing well. He hadn’t said anything about his ribs to Sash and he knew no one else would’ve said anything about his own injuries because Justin asked them not to. Not until Sash was well enough to ask himself.
“Crying. Why…” Sasha replied with a tiny nod. “You said they hurt.”
It was hard for Justin to look away from Sash, studying his face for any more clues. Fuck, did he hate that his head was so scrambled lately. He hadn’t said anything about his ribs or anything remotely related to his ribs to Sash. He was sure. So focused had he been on trying not to say the wrong thing, he had been analysing every word out of his mouth three times in his head before he said it out loud to Sash. No, he hadn’t said anything about his ribs hurting. At least, not recently. The day they met, the day he sang Beautiful Day to him in the theatre, it was right after Bondi and Justin’s had broken ribs and a burned chest from the CPR and defibrillation they did on him to save him after he nearly drowned. They had spoken about it, Justin had made a joke on the day about it hurting to even fart, which had alleviated Sash’s nerves about meeting him a little. Could it be a patch of a memory that was locked away in his mind that triggered when Justin sang it again just now? There was no way to know. He shook his head. “No, that’s not why. I’m just… missing someone very much.”
Watching Justin’s face, Sash slowly wet his lips, his hand curling and uncurling around the bunched up edge of the sheet he seemed to be holding on to like a security blanket. Justin saw his fingers close around it when Justin let go of his hand. This time, there was no doubt he was holding eye contact with him, even with heavy eyes and blinking slowly when it was clearly a lot for him to get his brain to function. “You’re sad.”
Justin nodded and folded his arms over atop the side of his guitar, making sure he didn’t try to avert his gaze. He didn’t know if the eye contract was helping Sash communicate better. There was so much not to know, yet so little they seemed to have answers for. “We’re both having a bit of a shit time, huh? At least we can be sad together.”
“You can stay?”
“For as long as you want me to.” Justin intended to keep that promise, too, though he was really conscious that beast that was bipolar and C-PTSD inside him was trying to take over everything. He felt like he was constantly on the edge of a cliff, about to be pushed by it or forced to jump. His significantly increased medication was helping keep the worst at bay but any moment that could all change. Sash was the only reason he was managing to hold on to some semblance of sanity. Barely.
“Music. With your… with… the ga… gith…” Sasha squeezed his eyes closed with both hands now tightening around the sheets. He made a sound that was a mix of a whimper and a frustrated moan.
Quickly, Justin reached to place his hand over Sash’s. One hand trying to squash the shit out of the sheet was fine but Sash had also broken his shoulder and clavicle on the other side in the accident. Justin had seen on his iPad when his Uncle Sam first showed him video of Sash right after the accident so he could see he was still alive — albeit barely — that they had strapped Sash’s arm in a position for the fractures to heal. They must have removed it the longer he was in the coma but Justin didn’t want him to fuck with the injuries. It might impact on the use of his shoulder and arm down the track. Like he needed to add to that on top of everything else. “With my guitar?” he asked, trying again to decipher Sash’s thoughts.
Sasha nodded and his facial expression relaxed again with relief, gaze moving back to Justin’s. “Helps… when you’re sad?”
“Very much,” Justin confirmed with a weak smile, brushing his thumb over Sash’s.
At first, just briefly, it seemed like Sasha would emulate Justin's smile but his expression changed and his blinking slowed, causing him to break the gaze. He looked like he was in pain so Justin didn't try to coax him to keep talking. Not that he really had been. Mostly, he was responding to whatever Sash could manage and now his heart was breaking all over seeing pain written all over his face again. Maybe this was just all too much, too soon?
Whatever it was, Sash seemed to phase out again. He was still awake because he was still curling and uncurling his fingers around the sheet and he kept wetting his lips. It was like he wasn't only struggling with words now, they were completely failing him. Even just trying to sustain that looked like it was causing him pain. If Sash hadn't just asked if he could stay, Justin would probably be thinking he should ask the nurses to take him back to his bed and let Sash rest. He ached to hold him and tell him he wanted to take all the pain away for him. This was fucking awful. It was one of the most awful things he had ever had to try to get through and he had survived a lot of near-unsurvivable shit.
But soon, so soft and strained from fighting the pain came, “Play another.”
Whether he could do that without crying, Justin really wasn’t sure. After taking some steadying breaths, exhaling slowly, he could think of so many songs he wanted to sing for Sash, so much he wanted to be able to say to him. When one specific option jumped into his head, he brushed it off as soon as he thought about it and looked down at his hand that was absent of his engagement ring. He took it off in case Sash somehow noticed it and asked about it. That was just a bit too much lying Justin couldn’t face. Maybe he really shouldn’t censor everything completely. The song that came to mind was what they listened to together on his phone in their own private cubicle of the London Eye. They danced together, too wrapped up in the moment and each other to be paying attention to the views. It was the first time they said ‘I love you’ to each other.
Before he could second guess himself, he covered Sash's hand with his, letting the touch linger just a little before he took hold of his guitar's frets again and started to play When You Say Nothing At All. If nothing else, it was all things Justin desperately needed to say to Sash all over again with things so fragile and knowing there was a very real chance he might never share any of those memories with Sash again.
LOG, COMPLETE
What: Tiny steps of recovery
Where: Sydney, Australia
When: After this
It took some time for the nurses and a wardsman (who had been helping with various things related to Justin’s care since he had woken from the first surgery here and was always so kind and chatty to him) to get Justin transferred from bed back into the special reclinable wheelchair yet again. It had been a few days since Justin had been in to see Sash and the awful realisation hit that Sash didn’t remember ever meeting him. The same day, Justin started showing symptoms of what turned out to be a kidney infection, a complication resulting from the surgery he had to repair the bladder rupture, one of the multiple serious injuries he sustained in the crash. The catheter he still had and his history of kidney injury from an overdose put him at risk. It was another thing to throw on the shitpile. He wasn’t surprised. Just exhausted and feeling crappy with it. He had turned down the request for Sash’s parents to come talk to him and his dad told them it was probably best to wait until Justin wasn’t feeling so poorly for him to visit Sash again.
But he knew the longer he waited to face it all again, the harder it would be and the more he would struggle to push on. He still had pain in his back and side which was different to what he’d had with the injuries and was chilled from the fever but that morning, when Ava had told him Sash had been saying his name, he agreed to go in to see him. Only after plucking up the courage to ask her if he said his actual name or called him Ren or Bueller again. It should’ve been funny, like a joke. There was nothing funny about it and it terrified him to seek clarification. Ava was so gentle with him and he was glad there was a history between her and his dad because he knew he could trust her. She told him she heard with her own ears that Sash had said ‘Justin’ but it had seemingly been in the context of again wondering if he had imagined him there. Not seeing him again was confusing him when he was already confused neurologically. There was no way Justin could ignore that once he knew.
The nurse made sure his IV lines weren’t going to tangle on anything when they moved. Before the nurse could unlock the chair’s brakes, Justin held up a hand. “Can I just… have a minute, please?”
“Of course, you can, mate. How about I get you a heated blanket for your legs? I can see you’re still shivery, despite the cool bathrobe,” the nurse told him with a smile.
Justin nodded and murmured, “Thank you.” Once he was alone in the room for a brief window to try to brace himself to be taken through to Sash, he looked down at the bathrobe, a silky fluffy royal purple fleece with silver flecks through it and his initials embroidered in silver on his chest. Silver and purple were the signature colours of his brand. It was a present from Sash one time he had a long hospital stay. He was pretty much never without it when he was unwell and even slept in it during his worst depression episodes when he couldn’t get out of bed and all he could do was sleep. All of this was so fucking hard and making his stomach twist up with anxiety anticipating seeing Sash again. He didn’t want to fuck it up but he didn’t know how to deal with it either.
He took the time before the nurse returned to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths trying to calm his nerves. Every exhalation was shaky and he pulled his hands into the sleeves of the robe, desperately wanting to hide away in it and not think about any of this. Sometimes, the worst nightmares really were when you were awake.
Soon, the nurse returned and gently placed a fresh heated blanket over Justin’s lap, tucking the edges down beside his legs so it didn’t get caught in the wheels of the wheelchair. “Ready, mate? Ava just said she’s happy to go in with you if you want some support.”
“It’s okay. I know I can call for the nurses if I need help or he… if Sash… if he… something isn’t right.” Justin put a hand up to his mouth and looked at the floor. He could barely get his words out talking about Sash because it was agonising to think about him not knowing all they shared together. It felt like Justin’s heart was being physically ripped out of his chest cavity. “It’s fine. I—I’m ready.”
This time, the hospital room felt barren when Justin was wheeled through the doors. It was filled with medical equipment, screens, and a soundtrack of various sounds and tones coming from them all but other than the nurse pushing the wheelchair, it was only Justin and Sasha. Alone. Very alone. Inside, Justin was absolutely shitting himself and doing everything he could to draw on his acting skills to not show it outwardly.
As soon as Sash’s eyes fell to him, Justin wanted to burst into tears again and beg the nurse to stay because he didn’t know if he could do this without fucking it up. Sash didn’t even really look like himself anymore. His head was still heavily bandaged and Justin knew his hair had been shaved beneath it because of the surgery he needed to stem the bleeding and pressure from the injuries and also do whatever they did to treat the aneurysm. All Justin knew was he had brain surgery. It was too much for him to understand anything specific. There wasn’t a lot of heavy bruising left on Sash’s face but there were healing cuts that were sutured and grazes. His complexion was a sickly almost yellow colour and he had lost weight.
But his eyes. His eyes were still Sash’s, even if they were heavy and he was doing that thing where he was woozily gazing in one place, blinking slowly like he was trying to focus on what he was looking at. His face was expressionless, so Justin had nothing to anchor to here. He couldn’t know if it was because Sash couldn’t see him, didn’t recognise him again, or wasn’t even really conscious. So, after a couple of moments to really metaphorically grab his balls before he lost all nerve, he gently placed his hand over Sash’s like he would with any hospital patient he was meeting during one of his charity visits. He had to get through this without crying. Some fucking way, for Sash, he had to do it.
“Hi, buddy. It’s Justin again. I thought we could hang out for a bit. This place is a bit of a drag, huh?” Justin remembered to speak clearly and leaned close so Sash didn’t have to strain to see him like the doctor coached him. How would Sash go about this if their roles were reversed? He didn’t know but he was sure he would deal way better than Justin was.
Sasha blinked slowly a few more times, like he was coming through a haze and Justin saw the exact moment he recognised him again. At least, recognised the face of a celebrity he was a fan of. Is that what it was like for Sash’s brain, right now? Like being in a heavy haze until there was something he could tether his focus to? Justin understood that feeling. It was how he always felt regaining consciousness after a suicide attempt or any length of time he had been stuck in a psychotic episode. It was unnerving and distressing but Sash didn’t seem distressed. He had when he first began to regain consciousness but now it was hard to identify if he was feeling anything in particular. Justin now understood more about the cognitive process of emotions after talking with the brain injury specialist. Sash’s brain was seriously injured so the messages from his brain to the rest of him could be dodgy or scrambled for some time, until he healed. And if those injuries couldn’t heal, these sorts of things might be permanent, like they were with Jace. Though, Jace’s long-term injuries were less to do with emotional processing and more cognitive. How he couldn’t really read in the same way other people did, but he had been able to learn and understand the symbols of sign language and could do some short form texting. Yet, he was incredible at art and using artist tools like pencils, paintbrushes and his tattoo gun so expertly, Justin would literally never use another tattooist. It was too soon to now who Sash would be now, if he could ever be the person he was before and that was fucking terrifying.
And then, a smile when Sash’s gaze slowly explored Justin’s face and then looked down to where Justin was holding his hand. “This place…? I… dunno it. It’s… ni… night.” He stopped squeezing his eyes shut with a brief nose scrunch that had to be out of frustration. Justin didn’t interrupt him to correct him. “Ni—ce,” he eventually got out.
Justin returned the smile but his own nose scrunched a little. “Well, I don’t know if ‘nice’ would’ve been how I described it. It’s certainly very, uh…” Shit. It was shit. All hospitals were shit and it was even more shit being in one but he didn’t know if Sash could yet fully comprehend he was a patient. “White. It’s very white. Unless they’ve been giving you better food than I’ve been getting, in which case, I might need to speak to the manager. They must like you better,” he joked.
Something akin to a laugh came from Sash and for some reason, hearing it gave Justin a tiny burst of hope things weren’t as bleak as they seemed. “White,” he repeated after Justin said it.“Why are you…here?” Sash asked and he was looking at Justin’s hand around his again, a little furrow between his brows. He wasn’t pulling his hand away though.
“I got hurt in a car accident. It was super scary.” Justin cleared his throat and loosened his fingers around Sash’s in case he did want to try to pull away. The opposite happened. Sash turned his hand palm up, taking Justin’s hand too.
“Why am I here?” Sash looked back to Justin’s face.
Justin felt petrified now, both like a deer caught in headlights and probably what something like sitting the Bar exam unprepared felt like. He remembered how the doctor advised to take things with Sash, with his amnesiac state. Keep it simple, tell him the truth without telling him that truth — about them — and understand he would struggle processing some responses or getting his own words out. Fuck. There was so much Justin could fuck up. “You were in the car accident with me. You hurt your head. That’s why things feel fuzzy.”
“Oh.” Sash wet his lips. “But you’re not… I’m not… Broadway.”
“I can’t dance just now. I hurt my back in the car accident. I’ll go back to work when I’m better.” Justin nearly choked getting those words out. “How are you feeling?” he asked. It was worth a shot, though he suspected Sash either had no idea how he felt or, if he did, how to describe it.
“The… the thing. The… roll… roller thing.” Sash lifted his other hand, trying to make a gesture. “My head. Ow.”
Justin definitely had to give him that one. ‘Ow’ was a pretty damn fucking succinct way of putting it. “Your head feels like you’re rolling?
Sash scrunched his face up again. “Stomach.”
“Your stomach feels like… ohhhh. Your head hurts and making your stomach feel like you’re on a rollercoaster?” Justin tried to connect the dots. “You feel sick in your stomach?”
Sash’s reply was just the smallest of nods or maybe it was more of a shrug with the way Sash was frowning. It was hard for Justin to really tell. Maybe Sash just wasn’t really understanding what he was saying. What he did have though was the whole history of loving this guy more than life, which included his medical history. He wondered if Sash was blinking so much because the room was too bright and hurting his eyes, making him conscious of pain in his head. He had a long history of migraines and associated light sensitivity, it was probably unlikely that just went away because he had a head injury. He had a look at the bed controls on the panel of the bed rail and found the light dial there, so he turned the lights above Sash’s head right down as far as they would go. The room was a bit dimmer but definitely not starkly bright like it was. “There. That might help. If not, we’ll see if the nurses can turn some of the bigger lights out.”
Without the lights beating brightly down on him, Sash wasn’t squinting as much but he continued to watch Justin sitting beside him. Justin was used to being stared at and scrutinised but not like this. It wasn’t inquisitive, it wasn’t rude gawping (like some fans were experts at), it didn’t even seem like confusion. He was just watching him and Justin didn’t feel awkward or strange in the gaze. He just wished he understood more what Sash was taking in or how he was processing what he was being told.
“Is… Andi coming back?” Sash broke from looking at Justin, eyes skimming the room but clearly not clocking anything familiar to him. “She was here… the sun… it was water. It’s time to go.”
Justin drew in a ragged yet sharp intake of breath hearing the name. This was the part he was so fucking scared he was going to fuck up. He swallowed heavily, trying to get his throat to work around the thick, choked lump there so he didn’t tear up. He put his other hand over the top of Sash’s, now cradling it tenderly between his. He so wanted to believe Andi had been watching over Sash all this time and helped him come back but he was doubting all that more than ever now. Nothing bad should’ve happened to Sash in the first place. “You know,” he began but the words just came out in a scratchy whisper so he cleared his throat to try again. “I think Andi had to go see a doctor. Were you going somewhere with her?”
Sasha’s eyes got teary as he looked at Justin’s face with what looked like a mix of desperation and frustration at trying to understand. “I—I don’t… I…” he whimpered, the tears beginning to slip down his cheeks.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be scared, ba— mate.” Justin saw a box of tissues on the mobile tray table because hospital rooms always had them in easy reach and he grabbed some, softly patting Sash’s cheeks to mop up the tears. It was all he could do not to completely break down himself seeing Sash crying again. Not knowing why was so fucking hard, he knew Sash had to be terrified not being able to communicate what he was feeling. Justin had been there in the past and even though he didn’t remember the specific feelings at the time, he remembered being so frightened. “You’re not alone. It really hurts, huh?”
Trying not to cry was proving to be a challenge Justin wasn’t up to and he began to feel a panic bubble up inside him when he started to lose his footing with keeping up the act. He looked around the room, chewing on the corner of his thumbnail. Sash needed something to ground him, to anchor to, because he was sitting here with a complete stranger he thought he’d never met, frightened at the pain, frightened that he couldn’t get words out or help anyone understand what he was trying to communicate. “Okay. Shit…” he mumbled to himself and pressed the call button for the nurses, really not wanting to bother them for something that was urgent but he hoped it might be something that could help. “Sorry. My guitar is somewhere back in my room. I think behind the door, maybe. Can I have it brought through?”
He hadn’t played since before the accident but his grandparents brought the guitar to him just in case he felt like he wanted to. He hadn’t even been able to look at it, so terrified that the accident meant he could never perform again. On top of everything else, it was too much than he was ready to confront but there was no burying his head in the sand about the fact the reason he and Sash met and connected so deeply was music. If he kept trying to fly blindly with this and stumble around Sash not knowing how to communicate with him, it was going to be a disaster. He was already losing his footing. Sash was too. He couldn’t explain how he knew because Sash didn’t know how to communicate what he was feeling, but he was scared and he just hoped it was more to do with the fact no one would give him a straight answer about Andi’s whereabouts and less because Justin himself being there was freaking him out. He hoped if Andi really was somewhere she could read his thoughts and witness this shitshow, she forgave him for thinking that too. Her whereabouts could be justified. Justin being there when Sash thought he was a stranger, he didn’t think so much.
The nurse came back with his guitar, holding it carefully when she handed it to him. “Next time when I’m changing your dressings, you’ll have to explain to me how you make it look so effortless to play this on stage. It’s a lot heavier than it looks.” She smiled and scooped up the edge of his blanket that had slipped off his knees when he was wiping Sash’s tears for him.
“Blame my mom. She said Swarovski crystals are the best. That’s really not my gig but what I do know is they look awesome under stage lights. You kinda get used to handling your own equipment.” As soon as the words came out of Justin’s mouth, he squeezed his eyes shut and he winced, then shot the nurse an apologetic look. “Sorry. That sounded really wrong. I just mean, instruments are kinda like cars. You get accustomed to using your own. Only, instruments are more like an extension of yourself. Something about the extra weight of it grounds me on stage and some days, I’m packing it so much, any little helps. Thank you, though. Above and beyond your job.”
“Not at all.” The nurse softly patted his shoulder with a smile and once again, Justin was on his own with Sash.
Justin swallowed to wet his dry throat and rested his hand on the body of his guitar. He ran his fingers over the strings, that ever-familiar string noise bringing him a tiny bit of comfort. Sash’s eyes were on his guitar but his stare was still blank. It was only when he blinked again and Justin spotted Sash’s eyes follow his hand when it glided over the strings that he knew he was taking some of it in. “I know you’re feeling really awful and you don’t understand why. But I heard you really like music. So, I thought I’d play you something and you just have to listen. It won’t be loud. That can be the beauty of acoustic. But if it’s too much, you just say and I’ll stop. Okay? Don’t nod or move your head. I know it’s hurting. Just hold your hand up if you want me to stop.”
After finding a comfortable place for his guitar across his knee which wasn’t putting pressure on any part of him that was injured, he watched Sash’s face, he started to play an acoustic version of 'Beautiful Day' by U2, the song and band Sash told him were his favourite the day they met. Justin had played a full version of it on the piano for him that day, as a way to try to help alleviate Sash’s nerves about the meeting and connect with him. When he started to sing now, his voice was husky and definitely so very unconditioned but it wasn’t a performance. It wasn’t about perfection. All it was about was trying to find something — anything — that could help Sash feel better.
And something happened. Justin just wasn’t sure what. But there was a shift in Sash. At first, he still looked lost and confused about what was happening. Then he was watching Justin’s fingers on the guitar strings, almost like they were hypnotising him and he visibly seemed to relax and calm. It was when Justin got to the bridge of the song that something incredible happened. Sash’s eyes slowly moved up to Justin’s face and, although subtle and faint, a soft smile came to his lips. Justin would’ve given anything to know what Sash was thinking but he was settled for seeing it on his face. He smiled back and gave him a wink when he came to the end of the song.
“Again.”
It might’ve been the softest of requests, but it was unmistakable. Justin wrapped his hand around the neck of his guitar, silently coaching himself not to start crying and likely freak Sash out completely in the process. He didn’t think he would ever have to draw on his acting skills with the love of his life but here they were. He was suddenly more appreciative than ever of the gruelling acting bootcamps he spent hours on end in when he was first being prepped for a Broadway stage. He held the smile with a nod and swept his fingers back over the fingerboard to begin playing the song over again.
By the time he finished the song a second time, he couldn’t keep holding his emotions back. Tears welled up and spilled over without any hope of being able to stop them. He tried to hastily wipe them away before Sash saw, biting down on his lip to regain his composure. He hated everything about this. But what he hated the most was not being able to pull Sash into his arms and just hold him. He ached to feel his warmth in his arms, to smell hair, touch his face, kiss him.
“Your ribs.”
Justin looked up in confusion, wiping the dampness from his fingers onto the front of his gown. “My… what? Ribs?” This time he was sure he had to have misheard or that whatever Sash was trying to say, his brain was giving him the wrong word. He hadn’t said anything about his ribs. He had suffered chest trauma in the accident that led to something called a haemopneumothorax where they had to drain blood and air from his chest cavity when he couldn’t breathe properly, but that was already healing well. He hadn’t said anything about his ribs to Sash and he knew no one else would’ve said anything about his own injuries because Justin asked them not to. Not until Sash was well enough to ask himself.
“Crying. Why…” Sasha replied with a tiny nod. “You said they hurt.”
It was hard for Justin to look away from Sash, studying his face for any more clues. Fuck, did he hate that his head was so scrambled lately. He hadn’t said anything about his ribs or anything remotely related to his ribs to Sash. He was sure. So focused had he been on trying not to say the wrong thing, he had been analysing every word out of his mouth three times in his head before he said it out loud to Sash. No, he hadn’t said anything about his ribs hurting. At least, not recently. The day they met, the day he sang Beautiful Day to him in the theatre, it was right after Bondi and Justin’s had broken ribs and a burned chest from the CPR and defibrillation they did on him to save him after he nearly drowned. They had spoken about it, Justin had made a joke on the day about it hurting to even fart, which had alleviated Sash’s nerves about meeting him a little. Could it be a patch of a memory that was locked away in his mind that triggered when Justin sang it again just now? There was no way to know. He shook his head. “No, that’s not why. I’m just… missing someone very much.”
Watching Justin’s face, Sash slowly wet his lips, his hand curling and uncurling around the bunched up edge of the sheet he seemed to be holding on to like a security blanket. Justin saw his fingers close around it when Justin let go of his hand. This time, there was no doubt he was holding eye contact with him, even with heavy eyes and blinking slowly when it was clearly a lot for him to get his brain to function. “You’re sad.”
Justin nodded and folded his arms over atop the side of his guitar, making sure he didn’t try to avert his gaze. He didn’t know if the eye contract was helping Sash communicate better. There was so much not to know, yet so little they seemed to have answers for. “We’re both having a bit of a shit time, huh? At least we can be sad together.”
“You can stay?”
“For as long as you want me to.” Justin intended to keep that promise, too, though he was really conscious that beast that was bipolar and C-PTSD inside him was trying to take over everything. He felt like he was constantly on the edge of a cliff, about to be pushed by it or forced to jump. His significantly increased medication was helping keep the worst at bay but any moment that could all change. Sash was the only reason he was managing to hold on to some semblance of sanity. Barely.
“Music. With your… with… the ga… gith…” Sasha squeezed his eyes closed with both hands now tightening around the sheets. He made a sound that was a mix of a whimper and a frustrated moan.
Quickly, Justin reached to place his hand over Sash’s. One hand trying to squash the shit out of the sheet was fine but Sash had also broken his shoulder and clavicle on the other side in the accident. Justin had seen on his iPad when his Uncle Sam first showed him video of Sash right after the accident so he could see he was still alive — albeit barely — that they had strapped Sash’s arm in a position for the fractures to heal. They must have removed it the longer he was in the coma but Justin didn’t want him to fuck with the injuries. It might impact on the use of his shoulder and arm down the track. Like he needed to add to that on top of everything else. “With my guitar?” he asked, trying again to decipher Sash’s thoughts.
Sasha nodded and his facial expression relaxed again with relief, gaze moving back to Justin’s. “Helps… when you’re sad?”
“Very much,” Justin confirmed with a weak smile, brushing his thumb over Sash’s.
At first, just briefly, it seemed like Sasha would emulate Justin's smile but his expression changed and his blinking slowed, causing him to break the gaze. He looked like he was in pain so Justin didn't try to coax him to keep talking. Not that he really had been. Mostly, he was responding to whatever Sash could manage and now his heart was breaking all over seeing pain written all over his face again. Maybe this was just all too much, too soon?
Whatever it was, Sash seemed to phase out again. He was still awake because he was still curling and uncurling his fingers around the sheet and he kept wetting his lips. It was like he wasn't only struggling with words now, they were completely failing him. Even just trying to sustain that looked like it was causing him pain. If Sash hadn't just asked if he could stay, Justin would probably be thinking he should ask the nurses to take him back to his bed and let Sash rest. He ached to hold him and tell him he wanted to take all the pain away for him. This was fucking awful. It was one of the most awful things he had ever had to try to get through and he had survived a lot of near-unsurvivable shit.
But soon, so soft and strained from fighting the pain came, “Play another.”
Whether he could do that without crying, Justin really wasn’t sure. After taking some steadying breaths, exhaling slowly, he could think of so many songs he wanted to sing for Sash, so much he wanted to be able to say to him. When one specific option jumped into his head, he brushed it off as soon as he thought about it and looked down at his hand that was absent of his engagement ring. He took it off in case Sash somehow noticed it and asked about it. That was just a bit too much lying Justin couldn’t face. Maybe he really shouldn’t censor everything completely. The song that came to mind was what they listened to together on his phone in their own private cubicle of the London Eye. They danced together, too wrapped up in the moment and each other to be paying attention to the views. It was the first time they said ‘I love you’ to each other.
Before he could second guess himself, he covered Sash's hand with his, letting the touch linger just a little before he took hold of his guitar's frets again and started to play When You Say Nothing At All. If nothing else, it was all things Justin desperately needed to say to Sash all over again with things so fragile and knowing there was a very real chance he might never share any of those memories with Sash again.
LOG, COMPLETE