#tarlos break up era fic

[sapphire11]

all the words you didn't mean for me to hear

Part 2 of 'Secret Messages' a Break up era Tarlos fic Read Part 1 Here

Hello Again Everyone! Still posting this fic in 'mini' parts here on tumblr before releasing the whole thing on ao3. (still mostly because I need some encouragement and validation despite not feeling ready to publish it yet there and you all have always been supportive) Think of this as a little gift for being wonderful followers/mutuals 💛

Counting this as my Seven Sentence Sunday (Sneak Peak Sunday in my world) Thanks so much for the tags @ramblingdisaster73 & @ravens-words

Thank you to everyone who reached out with encouragement and kind words on the last part! (let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic or my Tarlos fics) @chaotictarlos @firstprince-history-huh @bubblesandroses8

We could lose him.

His own voice echoes in his mind as he shoves open the door to the stairwell. 

We could lose him.

His own voice is too loud in his head. Drowning out all others. Nancy’s reassurances, Captain Vega’s attempts at hopeful optimism. They’re all lost in the terror that grips him by the throat.

We could lose him.

His own voice shaking with fear that he doesn’t want to feel anymore. He needs to feel something else. Anything else. So he collapses on the top step of the stairs and roughly pulls out TK’s phone, headphones coming with it.

We could lose him.

His own voice echoes and he needs to drown it out with another.  

Hey babe … shit. Let me just …. *background noises, buttons being pressed rustling … 

Hey Carlos.

He turns and settles his back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest, closing his eyes and allowing TK’s voice to block out everything else. 

How are you? I hope you’re doing okay. Nancy let me know that she’s still in touch. I’m glad; even if I think she only told me because she’s trying to get more information out of me about why we … well about what happened.

I hope that you are letting our friends be there for you. They’ve been trying to be there for me. Even as scattered as we all are at work. Paul still texts. Marjan sends me funny memes. Mateo begs for Marvel movie nights every time we have a night off together. It’s not the same, but it’s something. Plus, Doctor Matterson has been telling me to lean into those friendships; to that support. It helps. Sometimes.

On one hand it is worrisome that TK is so freely admitting that he’s struggling in these messages. On the other hand, he is grateful that TK still in some way was turning towards him, trusting him with the truth of his feelings. Of course he wishes that he’s trusted him at the time, but he knows how much it must have cost TK to admit this even in a message. He knows how even saying the words out loud can feel like you are giving them power over you. 

At the same time, he thinks about the way he pushed everyone away during the breakup. He didn’t want them to have to choose, he wanted TK to be able to vent and have people that were safe, away from Carlos, as TK seemed to want to keep them apart. He should have had more faith in his ex, in TK, in person he has always known him to be. Of course he’d want Carlos to have the same support, and of course he wouldn’t tell them anything. 

Other times it honestly just makes me miss you more. But I’m trying and I hope that counts for something.

It counts for everything, because if only in this hollow, cold, hospital stairwell, Carlos can admit that he didn’t try. He just gave up. Let the anger build inside him until there was nothing left to do, but to pretend to forget. To pretend to move on.

Just wanted you to know that I’ll be okay. That you don’t have to worry, because I know you. I want you to be okay too, so take care of yourself Carlos. Let our friends be there for you; it’s the least you deserve.

It’s the least you deserve

Those words burn into his mind, like the flash of light when you look directly at the sun. They’re all he can hear for a long time. 

He knows that TK left this message months ago. That he was alluding to the fact that Carlos doesn’t deserve to deal with what TK would call his ‘fucked up brain and mess’. But listening to this message now, it almost feels prophetic. It is as if TK is telling him that there is no other choice, but to lean on their friends.

If the worst comes to pass and TK doesn’t come back to him, he’ll try to take care of himself, for no other reason than because TK asked him to. Asked him in some stupid message recorded months ago in the middle of a communication drought, but it feels important. Moreover, it feels like the truth. TK asked him to take care of himself and now there might be no other options. 

TK’s wisdom about leaning on their friends propels him back towards the ICU waiting room. He finds Nancy and Tommy in the same chairs he left them, only now Mateo and Judd have joined them. 

“Hey man.” Judd nods, he’s the first one to notice him, and as he shifts off his spot leaning against the wall, Carlos freezes in place. Despite being compelled to come back, and feeling the itch to follow through with TK’s plea of letting their friends be there for him, he feels out of place. It’s been so long since he occupied the same space as all of these people that mean so much to TK, and it’s impossible to ignore the real reason why they’re all here together now. 

Judd watches him carefully, slowly making his way over with the look born of way too much knowledge surrounding grief. Carlos finds himself engulfed in the warmest hug he’s felt in a long while, the older man’s arms wrapped completely around him, shielding him for just a moment. When Judd pulls back and pats a hand on his shoulder, the look of understanding on his face brings tears to Carlos’ eyes. He can’t stand to look at it anymore as he turns towards the rest of the group who are doing their best imitation of not watching the spectacle. 

“Hey Carlos,” Mateo greets him with the least amount of exuberance he’s ever heard from the kid and a soft, careful hug. “We’ve missed you man. Just wish –” he stutters, a shifty glance thrown in the direction of TK’s room. 

“Me too, Mateo,” Carlos offers, “Thanks for coming. I know TK would appreciate it.”

“We’re here for you too.” The fierce insistence in Mateo’s voice is a clear holdover from other times. From months of Carlos’ absence in not just TK’s life, but all of these people’s. For the first time since the break up Carlos allows himself to feel the grief of the loss. The weight of it pulls him down and he sinks into the chair between Nancy and Tommy. Allowing them to take his hands in theirs again, except this time he doesn’t pull away. 

Mateo and Judd excuse themselves sometime soon after that, with mentions of needing to get some rest before starting a new shift early tomorrow. It’s a stark reminder that the world outside the walls of this hospital marches on. He wishes he had the power to slow it down, prevent the inevitable ending that hangs over him.

“Want to go grab some coffee?” Nancy’s voice breaks through his dark thoughts and he meets her gaze before turning towards the room that holds his heart. He knows what he wants to do. 

“I’m gonna go sit with TK.”

He feels Nancy follow his gaze and her hand landing on his shoulder. “I’ll grab you something,” she promises as they both get up and without a second glance he’s striding up to the door to TK’s room. Nothing has changed since the last time Carlos entered this room, the quiet slide of the door opening allows for the sounds inside to reach his ears. His heartbeat kicks up at the too slow, unsteady rhythm of the heart monitor. It brings him back to nights laying tangled up on the couch with TK, fingers and lips finding pulse points. The always higher than average beat of TK’s heart, that Carlos took great pride in making speed up with a well placed kiss. 

As he settles into the chair next to the bed, the hiss and click of the ventilator surrounds him. Wrapping around him like a noose, cutting off his access to the very thing that gives him life. It’s not air though, no that thing is TK, his liveliness, his energy, everything that makes up that man Carlos loves. Desperate to hear something else, besides everything that is wrong, he pulls TK’s phone out of his pocket. 

Opening the app he thinks how it’s better to listen to these now, while there is still hope, rather than later when they’re the words of a ghost. 

November 6th, 2021

Hey Carlos, is it weird if I tell you I saw you on a scene today? Probably. Sorry. You looked good. Really good. I’m glad you seem to be doing okay. 

Startled at the thought that he looked good at any time during the break up, Carlos tries to remember what shift that would have been, but the days blur together in his memory. He’s suddenly sad that he can’t remember the last time he saw TK at a scene before the disastrously awkward meeting earlier that day. 

Doctor Matterson has been encouraging me to reach out, try to talk, but I haven’t told her that I walked out and then ghosted you. I did tell her that I definitely don’t have the right to come waltzing back in, now that I finally have some shit figured out.

She says that having the conversation might do us both some good. Help us move on. Find closure. I think that it’s just easier to keep the door as firmly shut as that day I walked out. Am I a coward for that, probably, but at least I’ll survive to tell the tale. 

Move on. Find Closure. Survive to tell the tale. 

He wonders why TK’s words always land like an arrow to his heart. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to move on after this. Find the closure that TK alludes to in his message. He wonders if TK felt like he was finding closure all those months ago, or if he was just pretending like Carlos was. 

The anguish he feels hearing TK tell him that he thinks it would be better to keep the door shut. That TK forgot he held the key to every door Carlos ever had, all he had to do was come back, be there, talk, and Carlos wouldn’t have kept him out. 

Mind whirling, the sounds of the medical equipment grow louder again and Carlos clicks the next message.

November 8th, 2021

“Hey. So I’ve been keeping busy.  

TK’s voice floats over him as he stares unseeing at the body lying in the bed, unconsciously he closes his eyes, imagining the voice is coming from the man himself. 

Work has been good. Steady.

Scaled down to therapy twice a week. Meetings. I’ve been trying. 

Some days I think it’s working, but then I remember how good we had it before and how that blew up in my face. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m okay. That I’m not giving up. 

It’s such a short message, but the tone of the message is different from all the previous ones. The tone of TK’s voice pitched up, an attempt at lightheartedness. It’s not quite sincere, but there is a flicker of truth underneath it, like TK maybe had started to believe some part of what he was saying, that he wasn’t giving up. 

Carlos longs to reach out and take TK’s hand now, to beg him to keep fighting, to not give up. Old insecurities hold him back, but he moves the chair a bit closer, the legs scratching loudly across the floor, and then he leans closer still as he hits play for the next message.

November 10th, 2021

Dad left. Said he was sorry he couldn’t do more for the 126 and just ran away into hill country. I want to be so mad at him, until I remember that running is exactly what I do, did, have done. I don’t know. Some days it sucks to be a Strand.

And just like that all traces of hope are washed away again. Sucked out by the force of Owen Strand’s distinct lack of ability to be what TK needs when Owen himself is struggling to not be the hero everyone else sees him as. Anger stirs in the pit of Carlos’ stomach at the reminder that no one has been able to reach Owen since TK was admitted. That he’s not here now when TK needs him, and that he apparently hasn’t been for a long time. 

It’s a kick in the gut that despite TK’s own words several messages ago that Owen could tell he wasn’t doing well, the man still couldn’t face being just what TK needs if he couldn’t be what he wanted. 

Mom’s been trying to get me to go visit her. She’s got Jonah and can’t travel, otherwise I know she’d be here right now. She’s worried. She’s also pissed, I heard her yelling at dad through the phone. It didn’t change anything though. 

Nothing really ever changes, does it? At least not the things that matter.

The words are a clear contradiction to who TK is at his core. TK has never believed in permanence of situations/people/feelings, sometimes to the detriment of believing that nothing good ever stays, but he always believed that things could change. 

Once, TK had told him that ‘nothing ever stays the same’ and now he’s saying that ‘nothing ever changes’. He supposes the sentiments aren’t necessarily the same, but the lack of hopefulness in the words blankets him. Even at his most wary, even when he was pushing and pulling Carlos in every direction, TK never completely disregarded the possibility of things changing. 

In the beginning TK had told him he wasn’t ready. Not that he wouldn’t ever be ready.

Before the solar storm TK told him that he needed to figure out himself before he could figure them out. Not that he would never be willing to figure them out.

With Carlos’ parents, TK promised to be whatever he needed, until he was ready because, nothing ever stays the same and he had faith in Carlos being ready sometime. 

After the fire the number of times TK comforted him by reminding him that living with Owen wouldn’t be a forever thing, that things change. 

During their last fight TK had shouted that he knew it wouldn’t last, that nothing ever stays the same. At the time it had just hurt to hear those words that Carlos once took reassurance from used against him. Now he is hit with the realization that TK hasn’t had anything permanent. He hasn’t had anything stay for him, not his parents, not his sobriety, not his love.

Carlos wants to be the one to change that. Same as he always has, but now with a new understanding of why TK doesn’t believe happiness will last. 

With that thought he clicks play on the next message.  

[sapphire11]

all the words you didn't mean for me to hear

Part 1 of 'Secret Messages' a Break up era Tarlos fic

Hey Everyone! I have decided to release this fic in 'mini' parts here on tumblr before releasing the whole thing on ao3. (mostly because I need some encouragement and validation despite not feeling ready to publish it yet there and you all have always been supportive) Think of this as a little gift for being wonderful followers/mutuals 💛

Tagging a couple of you who I know have been waiting for this fic, sorry if I miss you (let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this fic or my Tarlos fics) @chaotictarlos @lightningboltreader

Carlos holds the plastic bag of personal effects tightly in his fist. His fingers are going stiff with how hard he’s been holding on to it since the nurse handed it to him after he signed all the required papers for being TK’s emergency contact. The shock of hearing that TK never took Carlos off his contact form has his mind whirling while his body remains frozen. 

“Did you know he kept me on as his contact?” Carlos turns towards Nancy with a raised brow. 

She shakes her head slowly, “I wouldn’t have needed to call you if I knew. The hospital would have. Doesn’t surprise me though.” 

He hums softly in reply, pulling out TK’s wallet from the bag and shoving it in his coat pocket, his phone follows, and then Carlos is pulling out his silver chain with the 252 medallion. It’s wrong to see it hanging loosely from his fingers, unattached to the person it belongs to. Since Carlos met TK he has seen the chain peeking out from underneath clothes, dangling from his unclothed chest, landing on Carlos’ own chest as they make love. He’s equated this item with TK for so long that holding it now is the most tangible reminder of just how bad this situation is.

It is also strange to be holding an essential piece of TK so long after their break up. He runs his thumb over the engraved pendant for a second before raising his arm and slipping the chain around his neck. As he settles it under his shirt the cold medal sits heavy against his heart. 

The chain is a constant reminder of all the things he’s lost and what he still stands to lose if TK doesn’t win his current life or death battle. Still the anger and irritation at being called to TK’s side after so many months of radio silence simmers just below the surface. Only kept at bay by the growing worry and sense of dread he feels the more he learns about TK’s situation. Hearing Nancy and Tommy recount resuscitating TK in the field was excruciating, and he almost tells them that he doesn’t need to know the details. Except this is TK, and he’s never stopped wanting to know every little thing about the other man. Even in the frustrating months that TK has forced them to be apart. 

Carlos sits in between Nancy and Tommy watching the hands on the clock opposite them tick steadily by. Every second feels like a blessing, every minute a curse. Finally, a nurse comes out to let him know that they need to perform some more tests and that visitors will be restricted for at least the next couple of hours. With a pointed look at all three of them still in uniform she urges them to go home, change clothes, grab what they’ll need if someone wants to stay the night. When she mentions staying the night she looks right at Carlos and he has to actively work not to flinch. He doesn’t have that right anymore, he shouldn’t have any rights. But TK kept him on as an emergency contact and no one can get ahold of Owen, so Carlos isn’t going anywhere. 

Which includes home. Thankfully Mitchell happily brings him his bag from his locker at the station and exchanges it for the keys to his patrol unit. He’ll have to find a way back to the station for his Camaro at some point, but that’s tomorrow’s problem, or maybe even the day after tomorrow. His favorite ED nurse lets him into the staff locker room for a quick shower and change into his civilian clothes. Feeling refreshed, but anxious to get back up to TK, Carlos quickly begins stuffing his uniform into his duffel bag until a thud catches his attention. 

Realizing TK’s phone has fallen face first onto the hard floor he lets out a soft curse followed by a silent plea that it’s not broken. He picks up the phone hitting the on button on the side. Breathing a sigh of relief as the screen flickers to life and no cracks appear. Just before he can shove it back into the safety of his pocket, a notification catches his attention. He knows he shouldn’t; he has no right, but he can’t deny his curiosity as to why TK is using an app to record messages when Carlos knows he never used to. He hesitates, then tries to guess what TK would have changed his password to after their break up. After two failed attempts he considers calling it fate that he can’t guess it, but on a whim he decides to try the old familiar code - 36320.

His heart does a funny flop in his chest, he swallows hard imagining of TK thinking about him every time he typed in Carlos’ unit number to unlock his phone. The home screen comes up and Carlos is able to click on the notification for the message. 

1 unsaved message - would you like to play and save now?

A solid minute debate follows. He really should just turn the phone off, but it’s possible the message could be lost then and he has no way of knowing if it’s important. It’s really not his place to listen to it though and he considers finding Nancy and asking her to listen to it instead, In the end fate decides for him as the phone flashes the warning for low battery and he has no choice, but to click yes, before the phone turns off on its own.

TK’s voice floats down the line and  finds Carlos’ breath catches in his throat. He holds it, not wanting the slightest sound to disrupt what might be his last chance at hearing the love of his life.  

Hey. This weather is crazy. I didn’t know it could get like this in Texas. You never told me it could get like this in Texas, always just making fun of me for hoarding hoodies. I’m really going to enjoy my hoodie today. 

Carlos listens to the message, taking in the easy going rhythm of TK’s voice. It seems like he’s talking to an old friend. Sharing an inside joke. Except if Carlos didn’t know better he’d say it was their inside joke, because he was forever teasing TK about his love of sweatshirts. While secretly hoping he’d be able to steal one from his side of the closet without TK noticing. In fact his brain had betrayed him with that very thought this morning upon waking up to the cold before he remembered that their closet existed no more. 

But I’m at work so I’ll keep this short. I’m sure it’s all hands on deck today and I just wanted to say, stay safe. Okay? 

The way TK’s voice has gone soft, quiet around the plea, a question raising at the end. It makes Carlos’ heart clench to hear TK directing those words, that tone, to anyone else. For someone else to be granted the parts of TK that were once saved for Carlos alone. It makes him wonder if he should even be here at all or if there is someone else out there that they need to call. Surely Nancy would know though. She’s not cruel, she would never call Carlos here if she knew that TK was seeing someone else. 

That's all. I know it’s a lame message, but I needed to say it. 

There are a lot of things that I need to say, but none of them are appropriate for a recording, so please just stay safe so that I hopefully get the chance sometime soon. Okay.

*alarm blares in the background* -Shit 

Bye Carlos.

Carlos’ heart freezes, stutters, then starts again at a rabbit pace. He has to have heard wrong right? There is no way that TK would be recording a message for Carlos nearly three months after their breakup. Carlos’ mind is just trying to protect itself. He can’t possibly have heard TK say his name. The phone beeps and he pulls it away from his ear to see the notification asking him if he’d like to save the message. Slamming his finger down on the ‘yes’ button and hitting play again with just as much veracity. Before he can even bring the phone back to his ear it beeps and the screen fades to black. 

It takes a physical effort not to hurl the damn thing into a wall, but instead he digs around for the power cord he carries in his bag before grabbing all his things and hurrying out to find an outlet. He finds himself back in the ICU waiting room, outlets conveniently lining the walls behind all the visitor chairs. It makes sense since this seems to be a place of perpetual waiting. Carlos ducks his head to avoid the look TK’s nurse shoots him as she steps back into the nurses’ station.  

He settles in, with the phone connected to the charging cord and watches as the little battery meter moves, up and down. A quick glance towards TK’s room reveals closed doors and pulled curtains, not allowing even the smallest glimpse of what might be occurring on the other side. Nervous anticipation of what waits for him on TK’s phone causes him to tap his foot against the ground anxiously, wringing his hands together. Finally after what feels like an appropriate amount of time has passed for the phone to be charged enough to turn on, he pushes the button. It is torture waiting as the screen lights up and cycles through the starting features and all the while TK’s voice echoes in his ears, ‘Bye, Carlos’, ringing until he well and truly believes it was a trick of his mind. 

Typing in the password is as disconcerting as the last time, and for the first time since the break up, and the long interminable months of silence, Carlos lets himself imagine a world in which TK missed him just as much as he missed TK. He lets himself imagine that his foolish pining wasn’t as unrequited as he always thought. Those thoughts only bring him more grief at the time that they’ve lost. Wasted really. 

As the phone finishes turning on he pauses to look at TK’s background. It’s a picture of Buttercup. Cute, but generic, not even some silly moment, and as much as TK loves that dog it feels kind of stale. By now he knows he’s stalling as he hesitates before clicking into the recorded messages app, closing it just as quickly. It was easy to tell himself last time that he was just trying to make sure TK didn’t lose whatever message he was trying to store. Now though, he is making a choice to dig into TK’s private world, somewhere that Carlos hasn’t had a place in for a long time. 

The desire to hear TK’s voice again, and to confirm or deny that he is indeed losing what little grip on reality he has, wins out. He opens the app. What he sees nearly makes him drop the phone. 

There is a single folder labeled with his name. The words For Carlos shining like a spotlight. 

With a shaking finger he opens the folder and for a long moment just stares at the screen, not able to comprehend what he’s seeing. His thumb rests absently against the surface of the phone before he shifts it to scroll back through the saved messages. There seems to be a lot, and when he hits the end, he scrolls slowly back, counting as he goes, all the way up to nineteen. 

The most recent one, the one he listened to earlier, is dated today, and suddenly he just has to know when TK started this. When he hits the end again, the date, October 26th, 2021, screams at him. That was only a week after TK left. Only two days after Carlos’ last failed attempt to contact him and communicate. Anger twists his stomach into knots thinking about how TK could somehow put into words a message for him, but he couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone and send him a text.

His fingers curl around the phone, knuckles turning white as he bows his head and tries to take a few steadying breaths. It’s not working nearly as well as he’d like as all of the emotions he has long thought he worked through in the three months since the break up come roaring right back to the surface. Prominent among them is anger. Anger at TK for running away so easily. Anger at himself for trying to give someone everything he had. Anger at the fire that started the downward spiral of the most important relationship Carlos has ever had. Anger is easy to hold on to. Sure it burns bright and the pain is sharp, but it also drowns out the fear and uncertainty that has clung to him like a cloak since Nancy’s words that ‘it wasn’t good’.

The thing about the fire of anger is that it doesn’t last long and it leaves damage behind. As the heat of the anger burns away, the ambient noises of the ICU fill in the raw gaps left open. The squeak of a nurse's shoes as she strides purposefully towards a room, the screech of a heart monitor echoing as a door is opened, the stifled crying of a loved one as they sink into a chair down the hall. All of them serve as a reminder of why he is here and why he needs to listen to those messages; he needs to know before it’s too late. He needs the truth and if he can’t get it directly from the man himself, then the messages he’s left, clearly intended for Carlos, are going to have to suffice.

Carlos hesitates one last time as he decides which order to listen to the messages in. In the end he realizes they’ll probably make the most sense chronologically, even if his heart is screaming at him about reliving his worst nightmare. He has to shake off the thought that the break up was his worst nightmare until a few hours ago when he saw TK lying lifeless in his hospital bed, a shell of himself. 

Opening the message dated for October 26th, and hitting the play button, TK’s voice echoes into the space of the ICU. With a jolt he pauses the recording. Suddenly aware that he doesn’t want anyone else to hear these. He wants, no needs, to keep TK’s private words and thoughts safely tucked away in his heart. It takes him a long minute to dig his headphones out of his bag and his foot is anxiously bouncing against the floor by the time he does. Needing to do something, to move, he stands up as he slips them in, only to be stopped short by the cord still connecting the phone to the wall. With a resigned sigh, he sinks back into the chair, shifting in an attempt to get more comfortable and shake off the strange feelings surfacing. 

Scrolling to the beginning of the message again, TK’s voice suddenly washes over him.

“Hey Carlos, it’s TK. 

Damn, this is weird. But my therapist keeps insisting that I can’t keep bottling everything up inside and since I hate writing, and you’ve seen my handwriting, well I guess this is the next best thing. 

The words are hesitant, the joke obviously forced. Carlos cringes at the mention of the therapist that TK had stopped seeing sometime. His brain catches on that thought and he pauses the recording as he tries to remember exactly when TK stopped seeing his therapist. He remembers an offhand remark or two about it before the fire. He is sure that TK went at least a couple of times while they were living with Owen though. In fact he distinctly remembers TK asking him if he’d like to go with. Mentioning how it might help to talk about everything that happened. 

Carlos had vehemently opposed the idea. He was fine. He didn’t need to talk about his feelings. It was great that it seemed to help TK, but it just wasn’t Carlos’ thing. Trying not to dwell on the what ifs of that situation he hits play again. 

I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say though. We never really got that far since I kind of shot her down every time she’s tried to suggest this. Everything’s still kinda a mess in my head too honestly. I’ve started therapy again, which I guess you probably already realized. My dad insisted. He could tell I’m not really doing well. I’m slipping, the world is grey again.

Shit. His head falls into his hands as he hears confirmation of one of his worries during their break up. 

Shit. No that’s not on you by the way. Crap I never want you to feel like you’re responsible for my decisions or feelings, because you’re not. They’re mine. But I’m not, well I’m not okay. Shit. I’m sorry, you don’t deserve this. Any of this. You never did. I’m just gonna ….”

The message cuts out and he sits there for a long moment, head cradles in his palms, tears building behind his eyes. He blinks rapidly to clear them, desperate to keep a hold on his emotions for as long as possible. When he thinks he’s okay, he plays the message again. Listening to the way TK’s words waver, the tremor that is clear in his voice. 

Something Carlos learned early on is that when TK gets talking, he has a way of just spitting out whatever words come to his brain first. Over time, Carlos had been able to pick out what words were most important by the inflection in TK’s voice. A pause before something that he was unsure of, a tremble when he was struggling to keep hold of his emotions, a quiet laugh that was more self-deprecating than actually happy.

He hears it all now. 

A pause before telling Carlos the world is grey, and Carlos is wondering if TK was remembering the first time he told him that too.

The tremble in TK’s voice as he tells Carlos that he isn’t responsible for TK’s decisions or feelings. As if that would make Carlos feel even an inch better that TK was clearly suffering. In this moment he wishes he had tried harder, hadn’t given up as quickly, forced TK to stop and talk, done anything really besides let his pride and anger drive him to giving up. 

Still the worst part of subtle undertones that make up TK Strand’s particular style of communication is the quiet laugh, more a breath of regret and self-loathing that he hears when TK tells him Carlos didn’t deserve ‘any of this’. That is the knife to his heart. Because he knows TK well enough to read between the lines. At that moment he was referring to himself. TK was fully convinced that he didn’t deserve Carlos and that he never had. 

After listening to the message three times he lets the silence engulf him. It’s been a long time since he truly reflected on his own feelings from the beginning of their break up. Mostly he remembers believing that TK would come back, until he didn’t. When that realization hit, he let the anger overcome the hurt in order to cope with his truth that TK must not want to be with him. Over time anger burned those feelings into TK just simply not loving him. 

He’s a little ashamed now to hear that TK was actively taking steps to better himself while Carlos really just pushed it all into a box and pretended there was nothing to fix. He wishes TK could see from his perspective how good that makes him, how beautiful it is to keep fighting even when it’d be easier to just give up. 

The longer he sits on the uncomfortable hospital chair, the more all of his emotions are mixing into one big mess inside his head. He is still angry. He thinks he deserves that right. After all, TK could have called him, could have texted him, could have sent him that frickin’ message when he made it. Any of those options would have been better in Carlos’ mind than the continued radio silence that lasted for nearly three months. 

He also feels guilty. After they yelled and TK walked out Carlos couldn’t understand what TK was so upset about. However, over time he begrudgingly came to admit, if only to himself, that making such a big decision on TK’s behalf wasn’t the best thing he’s ever done. If he is honest with himself, he was also way too proud to ever reach out to TK and say that to him.

As Carlos lifts his head and looks to the ceiling, stretching stiff muscles in his neck, all those emotions give way for grief. Grief for the relationship that they had both let go of. Grief for the pain that they had both suffered. Grief for the future that was more uncertain for them now than yesterday. His head thunks back against the wall behind him and he closes his eyes. TK’s voice still echoes in his ears, but suddenly he needs more. 

He lifts the phone until he can see the screen and notes the date of the next message, October 28th. The familiar burn of anger returns that TK could have had so much to say to him then, but couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone and actually say it to him. There is nothing he can do now except hit play and hope to find some answers. 

“I talked to Doctor Matterson. She told me that it’s okay to start smaller with these messages. That I don’t have to get into my emotions about what happened right away. That explaining them out loud isn’t necessarily important for this. We’re of course still working on that. But she said for this I should just talk without pressure.

Carlos scoffs, TK avoiding difficult situations is not necessarily anything new, but he had thought they were past the stage of their relationship where he was the difficult situation. Thought that was left somewhere in the ashes of their old house. Although, maybe it was really the stability of their relationship that burned that day. 

So, hi. It’s Thursday.  

Despite himself, he laughs, TK has never sounded this awkward before. Always so self assured, confident. Except he realizes with a start that’s not always true. The times TK opened up and really let himself be exposed there was always a hesitancy that seemed so uncharacteristic of TK.

Cap, Nancy and I are still working at Paragon. It’s nice to be able to stay together. Especially with the rest of the 126 split up and with them not having room for more paramedics. Plus the pay is still good. 

God damn pay. He never cared about the money. 

I’m going to keep living with dad for a while. Save some money. See if I can’t fix my mistakes before. — Ha I don’t know what I was going to say before. They’ve already cost me everything. 

Anyways. I hope you’re doing well. Bye.

The familiar feeling of exasperation over TK’s single minded focus on what Carlos didn’t consider an issue. He wants to take TK’s shoulders and shake some sense into him. He wants the chance to tell him it was never about the money. He also wishes TK had given Carlos the chance to show him that his mistakes didn't have to cost him anything. 

Now both their mistakes may have cost them the most important thing. 

Time.  

Without wasting any more time he hits play on the next message dated October 30th. Nothing plays for a long minute and he actually lifts his head from where it’s still resting against the wall to check and make sure the message is indeed playing. It is and it’s almost thirty seconds in with nothing yet. Almost convinced that this was an accidental recording he goes to fast forward just as TK’s voice starts. 

Hey Carlos. So I don’t really have anything to tell you. I’m on the tail-end of my forty-eight hours off before we start a twenty-four hour shift tomorrow. 

The soft, breathy quality of TK’s voice betrays his exhaustion even through a message and Carlos would swear that TK was just coming off of a forty-eight hour not the other way around. Carlos hasn’t slept well since the break up himself. He’s just about gotten used to the way his bed still feels too big and how there are too many pillows for one person. He’ll never get used to the way the mattress, just this side too soft for Carlos' own preferences, engulfs him every time he lays down. He’d bought it on a whim, needing something to sleep on, believing that TK would come back, and remembering the way his lovingly, annoyable boyfriend complained about how hard Carlos’ old firm mattress was. 

Lost in his thoughts he misses most of the message until his brain picks up on the change in tone, so much self-loathing coating every word. 

I don’t really know. But I think you deserve that at least. I think I'm just too scared to have you confirm that it's over, that you're done dealing with my bullshit. Anyways. 

He sits for a full minute before realizing that he’s reached the end of the message. Wondering what he missed, because certainly that can’t be all TK had to say, he hits play again. Waiting through the deafening silence for TK’s voice. 

Hey Carlos. So I don’t really have anything to tell you. I’m on the tail-end of my forty-eight hours off before we start a twenty-four hour shift tomorrow. I’m lonely. It’s weird there are still three of us at dad’s house, but Mateo’s been working longer hours. Dad’s been busy trying to save the 126 and even when he’s here, he isn’t really here. He makes an effort for me, but I can tell he is struggling.

Anyway, all that to say that I really just miss you.

I almost called you yesterday, until I realized I had no idea what I’d say. And I’m also not sure I’m ready for your anger. Justified or not. I really wish I was brave enough, because I think I’ve finally realized that I’m not really angry about the loft and that I could probably talk instead of running. Maybe…. I don’t really know. But I think you deserve that at least. I think I'm just too scared to have you confirm that it's over, that you're done dealing with my bullshit. Anyways. 

The silence at the end catches him off guard again. There are too many thoughts floating through his head from what TK says for him to pick one to focus on. It’s a cycle through thoughts about Owen being an absentee parent, again, TK being lonely, but refusing to reach out, and fear being the root of a lot of their problems. 

As he’s mulling over that thought he spots the nurse from earlier making her way over to him. He pulls out his headphones and stands just as she reaches him.

“The doctor is done with tests for now if you’d like to go sit with him.” 

He wrings his hands around TK’s phone, “Yes- yes, I’d like that.” Somehow he manages to get the words out and the nurse smiles softly at him before placing a gentle hand on his elbow to guide him into TK’s room. The sight that greets him almost brings him to his knees. Despite having caught a few glimpses of TK across the hall before, being up close is a different experience entirely. 

The ventilator is the dominating feature of the room, taking up physical space and creating an echoing sound that drowns out everything else. “I’ll be back to check on him in a bit.” The nurse says from somewhere over his shoulder as he remains motionless just inside the doorway. It takes several agonizing moments before he has control of himself enough to make it to one of the chairs positioned next to TK’s bedside. Sinking into the uncomfortable seat just far enough away to be considered ‘distant’, he takes in TK’s features. His face is slack, skin a sunken, sallow, colorless mask. 

The urge to touch runs along his arm to his fingertips and his hand briefly lifts before dropping heavily with the knowledge that he doesn’t have the right to touch without asking anymore. It hurts his heart, knowing how tactile a person TK is, and how much comfort touch usually brings him, but he can’t break that last barrier of trust that exists. Instead he settles back into the chair, leaning away slightly from TK and pulling out his headphones again. The app is still open when he taps the screen awake and his finger hovers over the next message for a long moment. When he finally is able to press the button again he wishes he hadn’t.

Hey babe … shit. Let me just …. *background noises, buttons being pressed rustling … *

Hey Carlos.

Carlos can’t slam the pause button fast enough as he shoots out of his chair and moves to pace along the wall as far away from the body in the bed as he can. Hearing the accidental slip up of TK’s voice calling him the well worn nickname that Carlos secretly loved is too much to bear as the man he loves lies nearly lifeless in his hospital bed. Because yes, Carlos still loves TK, just as much as the day he walked away and listening to this message here and now feels a little too much like an omen that he’ll never hear the real thing again. It feels like all he’ll ever have are these recorded words and the sound of TK’s voice, slightly distorted floating into his ears. 

It is a reminder that there is a real possibility that he will never hear that voice, light with teasing, whispering in his ear. Or that voice muffled with sleep as they wake up together and greet another day as the team they always said they were. Or that voice thick with emotion as TK tells him how much he loves him, because TK took every opportunity to make sure he knew his love. Hell he’d even take that voice yelling in anger again if it meant TK standing whole and alive in front of him. It’s all too much and he can’t even look at TK as he rushes out of the room nearly bowling Nancy over as she enters.

“Whoa bud, everything okay?” Nancy stops him with her hands on his shoulders as she peeks around him to take in TK’s form on the bed. When she focuses her gaze back on him he’s been able to school his features back into what he thinks resembles a controlled mask of professionalism. Feeling tucked away, hidden in the deepest parts of himself. Nancy tilts her head as she takes him in, “give me a second with him.” She gestures behind him and he takes advantage of her letting go of his shoulder to step out of the embrace. A small nod in acknowledgement of her words is all he can offer her and without the slightest glance back into the room he slides past.

He’s back on the same chair as before, knee bouncing frantically when Captain Vega enters the ICU. Her gaze is drawn first to the room that TK’s in, but she quickly turns towards him and makes her way over. It’s like a shock to his system as he stands, awkwardly accepting the hug she offers. No words are exchanged, as they settled back into their seats. Nancy joins them a minute later, hand immediately resting on his thigh as she settles on his side opposite Captain Vega.

“Has the doctor been by with an update?” 

There’s a moment’s pause before Carlos realizes with a start that the question was directed at him. If asked he couldn’t even say who it came from, so he glances up, and then back and forth. 

“No,” he offers quietly. 

No more questions are asked. They just sit there silently, shifting every few moments, flexing arms, stretching legs, occasionally giving touches of support, comfort. He barely registers any of it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, his mother’s voice screams at him for abandoning his manners. He should ask them something. Provide them comfort. These are two of the most important people in TK’s life. Two people that he knows highly regard TK, call him their friend, and here he is just an ex, without a claim in the world to the man dying in that bed and he can’t pull himself out of it long enough to say or do anything at all. 

Thankfully they’re not kept waiting long before a doctor is approaching them. Carlos watches her approach and holds his breath. He’s good at reading people, has to be for his job, and all he sees now is regret and compassion. This is a person ready to give condolences that he doesn’t want to hear.

[sapphire11]

What happened to tarlos break up era fic? Do you plan to finish it or it's never going to see the light?? No pressure I'm just wondering because I loved it so much only from the sneak peeks💖🌷

Hey Anon! 💛

Oh, it's going to see the light if I have to drag it kicking and screaming from my brain. 🤣😅

Which is currently the status of the progress I am making. I did add 800 words to it yesterday, and I actually enjoyed writing them, so 🤞