Too Old For This | ✓

Chapter Twenty-nine

     Zachary wasn't too sure what he expected from a street fair, but it wasn't like he'd been to one before. It wasn't busy, and Emilia had a nice spot with a spacious table, and Zachary could count the number of people that came up to it with his toes and fingers, so the three spent most of the time straightening crooked merchandise and talking under the umbrella as they listened to a live street artist a few tables down.

     All Zachary found uncomfortable was the heat. It didn't matter that they were under an umbrella. He felt like his skin and brain were being cooked, and the occasional ray of bright light blinded his eyes. He got as much water as he could—which wasn't enough considering everything within a walking radius was marked up because it was handmade, or hand packaged by small business owners. Six dollars for a bottle of water, because an artist custom-made the label just wasn't in Zachary's budget right now.

     So, he endured through the afternoon, squinting the through the headache he'd developed, and eventually over. Packing up took more time than setting up, and when the three of them were in the car and on the road, Zachary couldn't be any more relieved.

     He thought he'd started getting better in the car, but occasionally his vision would blur, and he felt a deep sense of dread like he was about to throw up and faint at the same time.

     "Are you okay?" Leroy asked him, touching the man's thigh when the older man started frowning.

     "I don't know..." Zachary admitted, feeling his stomach curl with the speed bump Emilia had just driven over. "Can she open the door?" he asked, starting to feel desperate.

     "Open the door," he repeated, starting to panic as the burl in his vision continued. He didn't know what it was—he'd been sitting all day—not doing much of anything, but he supposed the extended sun exposure was making him feel weirdly lethargic. "I can breathe," he said, starting to feel tears burn his eyes.

     Leroy hugged him closer. "Emmy, stop the fucking car."

     "Give me a fucking minute, I can't just pull up anywhere," she said, as the panic in her voice started to rise too. Zach tried to take deep breaths as the siblings argued as Emilia tried to find somewhere to park, but as soon as he pulled to the side of the road and stopped, Leroy reached out to open the door, and all Zach could remember was falling forward.

⸻⸻⸻⸻

     Zachary wasn't sure what happened after he'd gotten out of the car, but what he did know was that he was lying down now—somewhere soft—somewhere with a familiar beeping and a dull buzz of people's voices merging into background noise. His eyes peeled open when he realized what it could mean, but instead of staring at a white ceiling light like he was used to, he was met with Leroy's face, just inches away from him.

     "You're awake, thank fucking God," Leroy said, sighing as he leaned away, sinking into a chair that creaked with his weight. "You scared me," the younger man said, pressing his chest with his palm before looking at Zachary with a blank stare.

     "Leroy?" Zach asked, starting to feel worried when Leroy's expression remained blank." Are you okay?" he asked, reaching out to touch the man's arm. Leroy looked to the side, nodding a bit before letting out a sigh as he took the older man's hand.

     "You scared me," he repeated, and Zachary's eyes shifted to the white bedding of the hospital bed. Leroy sounded serious, and he was starting to get worried.

     "I didn't mean to—"

     "I know," Leroy said, sighing as he closed his eyes. "That's the scariest part of it, you know."

     "They said you were this close to heat stroke," Leroy said, using his‌ other hand to demonstrate by pinching two fingers together. "Heat stroke," Leroy repeated, like saying it the first time wasn't enough.

     Zachary stayed silent, not knowing what to do in the situation. He didn't want to start apologizing for something out of his control, even though he itched to—he wanted to. Seeing Leroy's scared yet very tired expression made him ache, and he felt selfish that a sliver of him was thankful for that—thankful that someone cared about him so much without feeling resentful, but he was starting to worry that all this would be too much for Leroy, and maybe sooner, rather than later. He wanted to promise it wouldn't happen again—promise that he would be fine going forward, but he knew that wasn't truthful or realistic, and all he had was hope. A hope that Leroy would be okay with all of this... okay with him just as he was.

     Leroy's eyes peeled open after a while. He sighed again, squeezing Leroy's hand as if to check he was still there—awake.

     "Zach," Leroy said, pulling the older man out of his thoughts. "We should move in together."

     Zachary blinked, then blinked again when Leroy kept staring at him for an answer.

     "Move in together?" the older man managed after a while of trying to figure out if he'd misheard something.

     Leroy nodded. "Yeah." The younger man brought Zachary's hand to his face as he nibbled his bottom lip. "I don't think I feel comfortable with the idea that something could happen to you, and I just couldn't be there. It's scary."

     "But—" Zachary paused, realizing that going on a tangent about him losing out on his disability benefits if they moved in together wasn't even his main concern here. It was that Leroy would probably get tired of him. A weekend here and there and a few evenings together wasn't enough to see him at his most vulnerable. If he moved in with Leroy, the younger man would have to put up with his chronic fatigue and pain. He would start to double up as a caretaker and boyfriend regardless of how many promises that would happen Zachary could make.

     He didn't want Leroy ever to grow sick and tired of him. He didn't want that at all.

     "I don't mean right now, but let's talk about it every couple of months, and start saving for it," Leroy said, rubbing the base of his finger over Zachary's thumbs. "I know you might lose out on stuff if we lived together, but we were already discussing that happening anyway with your job. Maybe I'm not quite understanding why this could be a bad idea, but I really need to make sure I'm there for you."

     Zachary stared at their joined hands, letting the wheels in his mind turn as he listened to the sound of the medical machine beeping every so often beside him. Occasionally the sound of nurse heels, or wheeled trollies, went past the hospital room's door. He felt his stomach drop when he realized that this—the hospital—the IV drip, everything was just part of his reality. It was always going to be as far as he could see, but he'd never thought in a million years he would have someone to endure it with him—someone offering to be as involved as possible.

     "I'll think about it," Zachary said, muttering under his breath.

     Leroy smiled, letting out a sigh. "Let's talk about it in a few months," the younger man said, squeezing his hand before looking at the room's door.

     "The nurses said they were going to bring you something to eat once you woke up. Do you think I should go ask them what you want?" Leroy asked, and Zachary nodded, listening as the man started trailing off about how his sister had been scared shitless by the whole scene and was sleeping soundly in the waiting room.

     "She's going to have so much to say when we leave. Fuck, it's already seven," Leroy said, checking his watch. "Do you think we should call in sick tomorrow?"

     Zachary smiled a little, nodding his head. He could use a day of just dozing off in bed with Leroy Yes, absolutely.