In the aftermath of an accident, there is a truth Win knows....but even he cannot accept it.
feat. cameos from MingKit
prompt: "this isn't your fault"
Ooo
Despite his best intentions, Team is fast asleep by the time Win returns from his coffee run. He's moved from the chair that he'd been occupying to the large couch across one wall of the room. Hair mussed and lips parted, Team shivers lightly thanks to the air-conditioner and Win is quick to tuck his boyfriend's cardigan-turned-blanket under the younger's neck to ward off the chill. Team mumbles under the touch, exhaustion lining the contours of his face as he nuzzles under his sweater and it brings a soft smile to Win's face.
Then he turns his attention to Ming.
Much like Team, the young entrepreneur looks like he's about to collapse from fatigue, eyes red from crying and fingernail indents scattered across his uncovered bicep. His leg never stops tapping the linoleum even as his eyes flit to the prone body on the bed.
Win takes one of the coffee cups from its disposable tray and places a gentle hand on Ming's shoulder. The touch, soft as it is, still elicits a flinch from Ming who startles and then calms under Win's gaze.
"Oh...you're back. Team fell asleep."
"I know. You look like you might too. Drink this. It's tea." Win adds when Ming eyes the drink with distaste. He knows Ming hasn't had much to eat and coffee would be hell on his stomach. The chamomile tea from the cafeteria would have to suffice.
Ming takes the cup gratefully, fingers interlocking around the hard paper but he doesn't drink. Next to him, Win brings a chair over and they sit together in silence.
Win's eyes flit from Ming near him, to Team across the room and to Kit, lying on the bed, tubes in his nose and bandages across his chest and face.
Ming looks at him, follows his gaze to Kit and the breath he takes is wet and hitched on a sob. Without a word, Win winds an arm across the boy's shoulders and brings Ming closer, letting him cry softly into his shirt.
"You know this isn't your fault. This was just a freak accident; no one could have stopped the car. And N'Kit's going to be okay, the doctor said there were no complications."
"That's not the problem!" Ming says in distress into Win's shoulder and when the older man makes a confused noise, the young painter pulls back, despair written in his dark eyes.
"I should have been there! With P'Kit! I was so busy being mad about the fact that he forgot our anniversary that I didn't answer his calls nor did I meet him at the pub when he asked me to see him. The hospital had to call me to tell me what happe- I should have been there- should have been there to hold his hand in that ambulance. I should have been there at the pub; I could have pulled him away and-"
"And what? Gotten hurt as well?"
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you, Ming. You don't know what would have happened. If you were there, maybe you could have pulled Kit out of the way but suppose you'd gotten hurt? Hurt worse ? Kit miraculously got away with nothing more than a broken collar bone and a few scrapes and bruises. But you could have been crushed under the weight of that car. You could have been impaled. You could have had a brain bleed after slamming your head on the concrete. There's a number of other possibilities that could have happened but didn't because you weren't there. Instead, you're here, alive , next to me, and well to take care of Kit. Isn't that better?"
Win's voice stays soft but his tone is no less firm and across the room, he sees Team stir and wake from his horizontal state.
Sighing inwardly at having woken his jet-lagged boyfriend up, Win redirects his attention to Ming, who's looking miserably down at his feet, lip caught in his teeth as he sniffles. There are more words feeling the need to jump off Win's tongue but he holds it, instead tugging Ming into a hug.
"Take a few seconds and just freshen up, yeah? You know Kit's going to be upset if he sees you with red eyes and looking like you've jumped off the garbage truck."
That gets him a wet laugh and Ming pulls away with a nod. He stands up with a soft groan, knees cracking under him as he places his coffee cup on the stand near Kit's bed. Ming doesn't care about Win watching as he leans down to press the softest of kisses against Kit's hair, "I'll be back soon Kitty. Promise."
Win silently directs the man's attention to the small duffle bag Team had brought hours back, filled with fresh clothes and a few toiletries that Ming takes with a tired but grateful smile. As the bathroom door shuts behind him, Team takes that moment to push himself upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
The sight of him, sleep mussed and adorable, brings a stab of sharp pain to Win's heart.
He and Team had just reached his London apartment when they'd gotten the frantic call from Ming that Kit had been an unlucky bystander in a freak accident and that they were at Barts. Despite all of Win's protests that Team didn't need to come with so that he could sleep off his jet-lag, the swimmer had determinedly shut Win up with a kiss, dumped out his stuff from his carry-on, repacked with a fresh pair of sweats, shirt, hoodie, socks and disposable toiletries before frog-marching both of them out of the apartment and into London's streets for a cab.
At Barts, they found Ming sitting shell-shocked on a chair and Jay next to him, tearfully clutching his hand. Kit had been in surgery at that time and by the time he'd come out, Win had managed to secure a private room for the man so that the number of visitors wouldn't be a problem. If he remembered right, Kit had close friends and family back home in Thailand and if they'd flown halfway around the world for an intervention, Win didn't doubt they'd do the same now that Kit was physically injured.
Apparently he's zoned out, because when Win blinks next, Ming has come out of the bathroom and is on the other side of Kit's bed. Sat in a chair and head pillowed on his arms, the rising of his chest assures Win that the young man has finally fallen asleep, fingers woven into Kit's own.
Next to him, Team has taken Ming's place and when he looks over, Team offers him a soft smile. He tugs on their intertwined fingers, chin jutting towards the couch, "You need some sleep too, hia."
Not up to disagreeing, Win follows Team to the couch where Team settles himself on the couch horizontally before pulling Win to lay above him. Head pillowed on Team's chest, Win inhales deep and releases his breath with a shudder.
Above him, Team presses a kiss into the dark hair, hands pressing against Win's back, bringing him flush against Team's chest. The smell and warmth of his boy, the sound of his beating heart under Win's ear makes him exhale tension he didn't know he was carrying.
Team speaks softly, humidifier buzzing away lowly in the background, "It wouldn't be your fault either, you know? If something happened to me."
Win knows. He knows and that's why he said all those things to Ming. And yet...
Yet...he knows that he'd still feel the same if anything ever happened to Team. Win has never felt more like a hypocrite than when trying to reassure Ming and the painful truth of it squeezes his heart.
With a shuddering breath, Win winds his fingers into the fabric of Team's shirt, trying his best to sink into the sensation of him.
"I know." He whispers out, "But I still..." The words stay stuck in his throat and for the life of him, Win cannot say them.
Fingers stroke through his hair, another kiss being carefully placed over the strands, "I know Hia. I would too." Comes the soft confession and it's enough to make Win push up, looking at Team and see the acceptance in his eyes.
Win leans forward, just enough that their foreheads touch. He doesn't say anything more- can't say anything more. Instead he presses one last chaste kiss to Team's lips and then drops his head back under Team's chin.
Sleep comes quickly for them both.
Across the room, Kit finally deigns to blink his eyes open, wetness sliding against his cheek from all that he has heard. Ming remains fast asleep next to him, fingers curled around his own and Kit uses what strength he has to bring the hand up to his lips.
Against the knuckles, he whispers into the silence of the room for Ming only, "I would too, you giant buffalo."
Placing the hand over his heart and fingers still intertwined with one another, all four men sleep.
Ooo