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So when Nicholas Bell burst into tears, there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

He was tired and still a little unsure if this wasn’t some dream.

So yes, he cried as his father held out a hand toward him.

Nick went. Of course he did.

And when a strong arm wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, he collapsed.

“It’s okay, Nicky,” his father whispered into his hair. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

It lasted far longer than Nick would care to admit. Just when he thought he’d gotten a hold on it, off he’d go all over again, Dad rubbing a hand on his back. He tried to apologize for the tears andsnot he’d gotten on Dad’s hospital gown, but the words were incoherent as he sobbed.

Eventually, he subsided into weak hiccups, face hot and swollen as he pulled away to wipe at his eyes.

Dad was pale as he watched Nick reach for a Kleenex next to the bed to blow his nose. At some point, Becky and Renee had left them alone. Nick was relieved they hadn’t witnessed him breaking. He’d have to thank them later.

“Sorry,” Nick muttered, throwing one Kleenex away before grabbing another.

“Don’t worry about it,” Dad said, each word sounding scraped and raw.

“You’re not supposed to talk.”

Dad frowned. “I’ll damn well do as I please, so don’t you—”

“I will call the doctor in here right now, don’t think I won’t—”

“I am the parent here, not you—” But then Dad grimaced like he was in pain, and Nick was sure he was about to relapse into a coma and would forget him right now, the amnesia rolling over him like a gigantic wave, and Nick would be a stranger—

“Breathe, kid,” Dad said. “Chest hurts. Busted ribs. That’s all it is.”

“You can’t forget me!” Nick said wildly. “You have to fight the amnesia.” He reached out and took Dad’s face in his hands, squeezing gingerly. “I’m your son.Nick.Say it.Nnnnnnniiiiick.”

Dad rolled his eyes. “Like I could ever forget you.”

That made Nick’s heart stumble in his chest. He thought he was going to cry again, but since he’d done it twice in as many days, he decided it was probably best if he tried to be a man for a little while. Then he thought that was sexist, so he allowed another tear to spill onto his cheek. Nick was—and always would be—invested in dismantling the patriarchy. Tumblr had taught him that.

“I am pretty hard to forget,” he managed to say.

“How are you?”

“If I tell you, will you stop talking? For all we know, you’re ruining your vocal cords right now and they’ll be damaged beyond repair. You sound like you’ve smoked fifty packs a day for twenty years.”

Dad opened his mouth to argue but sighed instead. He nodded.

And because Nick believed in rewarding good behavior, he said, “Thank you. That’s very good of you. And to answer your question, I’m terrible. My dad decided to let a building fall on top of him, and I might have feelings for my best friend, even though he’s a liar and a fat mouth, and I think I once made out with someone who turned out to be the biggest douche, and it appears that three quarters of my friends have been lying to me about some pretty big things.” He paused, considering. Then, “Also, I haven’t taken a shower since… yesterday morning? Or maybe the day before. I don’t know what day it is. But my pits are pretty rank, and I’ve been wearing the same underwear for a length of time that’s definitely unsanitary.”

Dad stared at him.

Nick said, “So, how are you?”

Dad started to answer.

Nick glared at him.

Dad closed his mouth.

Nick loved him very much.