Concussion

            “Lee! Lee, can you come up here? I don’t feeeel well!” Keiran wailed from the attic. Lee had sent him up there nearly an hour ago to clean it of all his old things—either they were to find a permanent home somewhere among their other furniture or they had to go. Lee was converting the attic into an art studio for Keir so he could keep his sculpting and paint off the kitchen table.

            But Keiran had gotten bored rather quickly—three times in the past forty-five minutes he had called for Lee. The first time, because he had wanted a drink, the second for a hug and the third because he had fallen off an old stool testing to see if it still worked.

            Lee wasn’t about to go back up there again. He had his own chores that needed to be done.

            “Keiran, just get your work done, please, and I’ll make lunch soon,” he called back.

            “Lee! Lee, I’m really not feelin’ well,” Keir shrieked. Lee ignored him. He heard a crash and he sighed, wondering how long this tantrum would last, refusing to indulge his lover’s outburst.

            He was a little surprised that after the initial crash he heard nothing. Keiran must’ve realized that he wasn’t about to play into his mind games. Good. He continued working in the living room for a while longer before he heard Keiran again, this time on the upstairs landing.

            “Lee! Can you /please/ come here? I’m /dizzy/, Lee. I don’t feel good,” he wailed. Lee groaned, setting his work aside. “Keiran, come down here please,” he ordered, not at all pleased to be disrupted yet again.

           

            He heard soft crying from the stairs and he sighed, pressing at his temples. “Keiran,” he warned.

            “Lee, I’m dizzy,” he heard in response and then a resounding thud as Keiran fell down the stairs. He was there in seconds, on his knees checking if his lover was okay. Keir whimpered and moved with a pained groan into Lee’s lap.

            “Lee, I’m dizzy,” he murmured. “An’ I fell, Lee. From the t-top,” he whined, starting to cry. “I don’t feel good, Lee. I feel bad. I feel sick. My head hurts. I can’t feel my butt,” he wailed. Lee scooped him easily into his arms and Keiran clung to him, pressing close.

            “I think I hit my head, Lee, when I fell off the stool. It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you to check. I said I was okay. And I thought I was. But I think I’m dying now and you can’t be mad. I want you to cry at my funeral. Those people who say don’t cry, be happy, I’m not one of them. I want to see buckets of tears from you. And if you hafta, you can find a new partner, but only after a suitable grieving period. Of six years. And I’d really rather you didn’t, Lee. I think I’m bleeding. And I think I’m worth playing the grieving widow role for. Lee? My mama doesn’t love me anymore. Lee, I think I’m gonna puke; put me down,” he ordered.

            Lee set him down and Keiran made a wobbly dash for the bathroom. He made it in time, flopping over the toilet seat and vomiting loudly. Lee sighed and followed him in, stroking his hair back.

            “I think you have a concussion, Keiran,” he told him. “You must’ve hit your head pretty hard, little boy.”

            Keiran hardly heard him, continuing for a while before he dramatically flopped back in Lee’s arms. Lee smoothed his hair back from his forehead and ran gentle fingers through his hair, finding a damp spot at the back of his head. He sighed.

            “Let’s get you up and into bed, mister. I want you to lie down for a bit,” he told him. Keiran snuggled closer, nodding, but refused to move. Eventually Lee simply scooped him back up and Keiran once more clung to him as he took him up the stairs and into their bedroom.

            Keiran gratefully sank into their quilts with a whine. After a moment, he rolled into his lover’s lap once more. “Lee? Lee, I wasn’t sleepin’, I swear! I was in the attic, cleanin’ up. I don’t even know how I got here! Don’t spank me, please, Lee. I didn’t do anythin’ bad, I swear. I didn’t. I even remembered to feed Chester this morning. And I fell down the stairs, Lee, I didn’t mean to be bad. You can’t spank me, please, you hafta still love me, Lee! Lee if you don’t love me, I don’t have anybody!” he pleaded.

            Lee shushed him, running his hands down his back. “Shh, I’m not gonna spank you, baby. It’s okay. Of course I still love you. Come on now; go back to sleep, Keiran,” he urged. Keiran whimpered but settled into an exhausted sleep. Lee shifted him back into the sheets and covered him, patting his butt gently. Keir squirmed invitingly but Lee got up and headed back down to do some work while his lover slept.

            He returned about forty-five minutes later to wake him. Keiran shifted over, shaking his head. “Lee! Lee, I’m goin’! I’m working on it; I’m almost done, I promise,” he whined into Lee’s stomach.

            Lee explained to him that he had to ask him a few questions. Keiran whined.

            “What’s your full name and how old are you?”

            Keiran shrugged before answering in a quiet voice: “Twenty-seven, Lee. Keiran Jordan Baird.”

            Lee nodded. “Who is the president of the United States, currently?” he asked. Keiran made a face, wrinkling his nose. “Some black guy, Lee. Rock or something. Osama. I don’t know.”

            Lee laughed. “Barack Obama. Close enough, kiddo.”

            Keiran yawned. “Good, Lee? Can I sleep now?” Lee kissed his forehead, nodding. “Yeah, baby. Sleep.”

            Keiran gratefully sank back into sleep and Lee sighed, leaving him there once more. He planned to return in an hour to check on him again, but he got consumed in his work after a while. He heard Keiran whimpering from upstairs after a while and headed up – it had only been about fifty or so minutes.

            He found Keiran cuddled up in bed with one of his too-big sweaters wound around himself and he smiled faintly. Keir looked up at him, bright eyes full of tears. “You weren’t s’posed to leave, Lee,” he whined. Lee settled on the bed and collected Keiran into his lap when the man shifted over.

            “Sorry, baby. You needed to sleep and I had work to do,” he said, smoothing his hair back. Keiran pouted.

            “I gotta ask you some more questions, kiddo,” he told him. Keir’s pout deepened. Lee kissed his forehead.

            “What’s my full name, Keiran? And what did we have for breakfast?”

            Keiran made a face. “Lee Maverick St. James,” he said, mocking one of Lee’s stern tones, “we had pancakes and sausages. And you’re thirty-four. And the dog’s name is Chester. Lee, my mom stopped loving me. And you’re bein’ /mean/!”

            Lee grinned despite himself at Keiran’s listing, not acknowledging the one regarding his mother as he tucked Keiran into the blankets more securely, settling beside him. Keir head-butted his shoulder with a whine, settling into his chest to sleep once more.

            When Keir woke again, Lee was sleeping under him, softly snoring. He whined until Lee woke and he felt his lover’s hands on his back, soothingly. “Hi,” he whispered. Lee kissed his temple, humming softly. Keiran snuggled into his shoulder until Lee’s touch soothed him back to sleep once again.

            When Lee woke, Keiran was sitting up. He was sketching, a little shaky, and Lee stretched and shifted up. “Lee, I fell down the stairs,” he informed him, and Lee nodded. “All the way down the stairs. My head hurts.”

            Keiran pushed into his arms for a kiss and whined.
             

“When I was in the attic, Lee, I found some really cool stuff I forgot I had. I found old comics and I found some of my old school work. I didn’t know my parents had kept all that stuff when I left! I can’t believe you wanted all of that crap offa them. You should just have left it there. I don’t need any of it, really.”

He sighed. “If we hadda garage sale, I might make some money, but I didn’t want any of it, really. I haven’t finished sorting, yet, Lee, but I kinda jus’ wanna get rid of all of it and start my studio. I really don’t want that stool,” he said seriously and Lee grinned a bit and nodded at him.

“And Lee? Lee, I found the mama hedgehog in one of the boxes. You remember Miss Tiggy Winkles, my stuffed hedgehog?” he asked, sniffling a bit. Mark had stolen him from him and ripped him up when Lee had rescued him. “My mama bought them for us when she hadda go away one time and she took the mama hedgehog and she gave me Miss Tiggy Winkles, the baby one. But now I have the mama, Lee? Lee? Do you think it means she doesn’t love me anymore?”

Lee frowned, shifting Keiran more securely into his arms. The younger man pressed into his hands as they smoothed his hair back. He hadn’t known the hedgehog meant anything like that to Keiran. When he had gone to see the man’s parents to ask for his things, they had been blunt and trite and had already had his things packed up since the day he ran away from home at seventeen. Lee had spotted the hedgehog in the garage with a pile of other stuffed animals labeled ‘thrift store’ and he had asked Keiran’s mother if he could take it.

She had told him it meant nothing, that it was a useless stuffed toy that she had no time for and no patience looking at it in her house. He had taken it out with the last of the boxes and had forgotten to tell Keiran.

He stroked the man’s hair back, kissing his temple. He had such faith in the world, in people. Lee’s brow furrowed at the hope in Keir’s eyes – he hadn’t seen his parents since he was seventeen but he still harboured the hope that they’d welcome him back if he ever decided to return. Lee knew that wouldn’t ever happen; they’d long since cleared their lives of all reminders of their wayward son. But he couldn’t destroy the kid’s dreams.

“Keiran. Of course she loves you,” he lied and though he felt bad saying it, he couldn’t stand to see the man lose that spark of optimism. “When I asked about the hedgehog, she said that it’d be better off with you because then you’d always have your mama with you,” he told him, smoothing his side. Keiran giggled, snuggling into him.

“Really, Lee? I bet she’ll miss her,” he said softly. Lee nodded sadly, sighing into his hair. “We used to play with them, Lee. Mama and baby hedgehog and daddy was always some other animal, a badger or a raccoon or something. And he’d grumble and be all nasty and mama and I, we’d be all scared of him. One time, though, she made mama hedgehog go with daddy and I didn’t like it and I cried ‘cause a baby hedgehog shouldn’t be alone, Lee, right Lee? But daddy got mad and then he stopped playing with us after that and then pretty soon mama stopped playing too. But she slept with mama hedgehog, Lee, she did,” he said with a nod.

“Now she’s jus’ gonna have to sleep with daddy. But Lee? Do you think she misses me?” he asked, hugging him, stroking his fingers over his collarbone. Lee hugged him tightly, nodding. He closed his eyes tightly, breathing deeply.

“Yeah, Keiran. She probably misses you so much, baby. You’re her only little baby,” he said quietly. Keiran nodded at that, nuzzling into his chest, resting on top of him as Lee snuggled him into the blankets.

“Maybe Lee, when my studio’s all finished, we can show them? We can show my mama?” he asked, kissing Lee’s shoulder. Lee stroked his hair back from his forehead and kissed him.

“Okay, Keiran. How ‘bout we sleep some more, okay? Too much excitement for one day,” he said quietly. Keiran pressed into him.

“Lee? Lee, my head hurts. Are you gonna wake me up again later?” he asked him with a dramatic pout.

Lee decided to let him be this time. “You should be fine,” he promised him and Keiran giggled and snuggled into him, nodding. “Yeah Lee! I’m okay, right? I’m not gonna die or nothin’. And if I do, you and my mama can cry at my funeral, okay?”

Lee snuggled him close and Keiran fell silent. After a few minutes, Keiran shifted. “Lee? Lee, maybe I’m gonna keep some stuff. Just in case, Lee.”

Lee nodded, feeling a heavy weight settle in his stomach. “Okay, Keiran,” he agreed.

“You never know,” he said, though he could still hear Mrs. Baird telling him to “hurry and take the boxes; that kid had been nothing more than a waste of space all his life.”