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The hospital room was way too quiet. Test Tube was used to noise — the hum of her machines, the buzz of the game, Fan’s voice filling up every space. But this silence was heavy. It pressed down on her until she finally made herself step inside.
Her shoes squeaked on the clean floor. The sound was way too loud.
Fan was asleep on the bed, and he looked… small. It was wrong. He was never small. He was all big gestures and loud theories and constant movement, But now he was just... still. The vibrant, infectious energy that was his defining characteristic was gone, leeched away and replaced by the slow, mocking beep of the heart monitor that she’d come to hate. It was a variable she couldn't control.
She looked around. The room was full of proof that he was indeed loved. A glitter-bombed card from Bot, a pile of poorly drawn crayon drawings from Lightbulb, some fancy pens from Paintbrush with a note saying, ”For mapping out your next big theory. Get well soon.” A careful, knitted blanket from Suitcase was draped over the end of the bed. She added her own gift to the collection: a state-of-the-art, shock-proof, heat-resistant tablet, perfect for sketching out even the most chaotic of ideas. Did she have to go all out for him? Absolutely.
She sank into the chair beside him, its metallic screech making him stir. His eyelids slowly fluttered open, pupils dilated and unfocused. It took a second for him to really register what was going on – and then he flinched, his entire frame tensing, pulling away from her very presence, as if he’d break at even the slightest touch.
"Hey," she whispered, her voice coming out soft. "It's just me."
He relaxed, just a little. The fear in his eyes faded, replaced by a tired recognition. "...Tube?"
“I’m right here.” Her hand, usually so steady, felt clumsy as she reached for his. She was careful, her touch light. She didn’t want to hurt him more than he already was.
He tried to muster a smile, a weak, wobbly one that didn't reach his eyes. He attempted to push himself up, a faint grimace of pain twisting his features. "I'm… I'm alright," he breathed, the lie so transparent it was heartbreaking.
A surge of protective frustration washed over her. "Fan," she said, her voice firming yet somehow becoming more gentle. She squeezed his hand, a minute pressure. "You're not. And… it's okay to not be okay."
That was all it took for him to break.
A ragged sob tore out of him. The brave facade he put up crumbled into dust, and he turned his face into her shoulder as she leaned in, his body shaking with the force of his tears. She could feel the heat of them through her lab coat, a damp testament to his pain.
“I could’ve done something,” he choked out, his voice thick and muffled. “I should’ve been faster… I could’ve helped Bot. I just… I mess everything up. I’m a burden."
”Fan.” Her voice was a blade, sharp and clear, cutting through his self-loathing. Her other hand came up to stroke his back, tracing slow, deliberate circles. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If– If anything…” Her own composure wavered, the guilt she’d been repressing surfacing. “I could’ve helped. I had the resources. I could’ve brought the Blue Ray. You… You threw yourself into danger without a second thought, to save Bot. You tried your best, Fan, that’s all that matters. And the fact.. that you’re.. okay, okay-ish… Alive… the fact that you're here..." Her voice got shaky. "Is enough to make me feel better.”
She held him tighter, anchoring him. “You are not a burden. I am so, so happy and grateful that you’re okay.”
He sobbed louder at that, a broken, raw helpless sound that made Test Tube pull back in a panic, her hands flying up. “D-Did I say something wrong..?!-“
He cut her off, a soft, hiccupping laugh escaping him, a sound that unspooled something tight in her chest. “Nono.. It’s–..” he whispered, his voice still quiet and hoarse. “Hearing you say all of that.. Makes me feel better. Y-yknow, as if none of that ever happened. Like I'm actually gonna be okay.”
A relieved, breathy laugh escaped Test Tube too. The silence that followed was warm, like some sort of shared space. Test Tube opened her mouth, but Fan was faster.
“I really do mean it though,” he mumbled, quieter than before, his gaze fixed on their joined hands. “T–The fact that you care so much about me..? It’s…”
“How could I NOT, Fan?” she interrupted, the words rushing out. “You stood by me when I almost… Y’know. When I was at my worst. You’ve been with me through thick and thin. You’re easily the best person I’ve EVER met and –“ She stopped, a brilliant, cerulean blush heating her cheeks. The evidence was irrefutable. “I love you, okay Fan? I really do and I.. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Fan let out a small, stunned noise before a tiny, genuine giggle escaped him. “I- Wha?” Test Tube said, her brow furrowing in confusion
Then, he moved. Using every ounce of his strength, he pushed against the hospital bed, straightening himself up. He winced sharply, a flicker of pain he just couldn't hide; but he persevered anyway, leaning forward with a determination that stole her breath, and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her cheek.
Was he always this bold, or was it the pain meds talking?!–
"Thank you,” he said, collapsing back into the pillows with a soft groan, that stupid, brilliant, cheeky grin she loved so much finally, truly, gracing his features.
"You're impossible," she scolded, but her heart was soaring. "I’m.. I’m not gonna pretend like I didn’t see you wince at that though,” she scolded, her heart performing a complex and joyous algorithm in her chest. “Lay back down, Fan!” She half-jokingly, half-seriously said, her hands fluttering over him, adjusting his pillows, smoothing his blanket.
"Worth it," he murmured, his eyes already closing.
“Just sleep," she whispered, settling back into her chair and not letting go of his hand. "I'm not going anywhere."
As his breathing evened out, Test Tube knew with more certainty than any scientific principle that this was where she was meant to be. Not in a lab, not hosting a game, but here. With him. The only thing that mattered was the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the warm weight of his hand in hers. He was here. He was alive. And for now, that was enough.