Denzel knew exactly who he was looking at. He knew their names and what they meant to him long before the sturdy trap door, which had been shoved into his mind and bolted shut long ago, flung open and all his missing memories hastily fell into place like tetris blocks. He wasn't surprised to see them here; he'd been patiently waiting for them in this very place for...how many weeks now? One? Three? Fifty-two? Hell, maybe it had only been a few hours. It didn't really matter and he truthfully did not mind waiting. Denzel had been waiting for decades already, but at least now he was waiting in a place that had been surprisingly calm and accommodating during his long-term stay there. Even the scenery was to his liking. The area surrounding him was the color of storm clouds, and it seemed to have a similar cool and fluffy texture. He could never find the end of it, though. It seemed to expand forever in every direction. The grade-school teacher found it strangely comforting, and he wished that such a place could exist outside of his mind. His brightly-colored and oversaturated visitors contrasted sharply against it.

Denzel slowly lifted his head to make eye contact with each of the two fairies who were now paying him a visit. Cosmo shifted uncomfortably and lowered his eyes. Wanda never met them. Their uneasiness was palpable. That's understandable, I suppose, the schoolteacher thought to himself. Anyone would feel nervous around someone who had recently made a suicide attempt like he had, after all. Crocker felt that his last straw, so to speak, was not important. When someone makes a suicide attempt, everyone always focuses on analyzing that final straw. This way, they don't have to think about their contribution to it. It's easier to put all of the blame onto one person, onto one incident, than to acknowledge a lifetime of cruelty. Perhaps his visitors were feeling guilty. He mulled over this thought for a bit, and then he finally decided to open his mouth.

"Ah, I see you've finally made it. How long did it take? What will it cost you?" he said, making no effort to bar his trademarked wickedness from seeping into his voice.

That sure didn't take long, Wanda thought.

"Ten days," the swirly-haired fairy answered, ignoring the last question.

"Only ten days? My guess was a month. The passage of time is incredibly difficult to perceive here, you know?"

"By definition, any amount of time is a long time to be in a coma," Wanda deadpanned.

"Yes, yes, I know. I suppose the people on the outside are starting to get worried. I'm sure whatever doctor is assigned to me doesn't want my death on her record!" he spat out a sudden, gruff laugh.

"You...you really don't think anyone else cares?" Cosmo piped up.

Denzel stood up and swiftly shortened the gap between him and his previously long-forgotten godparents. He stopped just a foot short of them and glared at the green-haired fairy, causing him to instinctively retract closer to his wife. He hoped that Cosmo could get a glimpse into the decades of suffering and intense loneliness by looking him in the face and get a sense of the pure rage that threatened to swallow all three of them at any moment.

"Don't you dare try to tell me that you two care," he hissed. "You burned that bridge decades ago."

The mindscape surrounding the three of them was changing rapidly. The undulating, soft gray became heated with deep reds and oranges as jagged, black branches protruded from nowhere and everywhere, growing in no particular direction.

Crocker noticed a slight brush of a hand between the two of them. They were afraid, as they should be, but he felt no desire to exploit this. He took a moment to observe the way they had positioned themselves, almost as if they were simultaneously protecting and consoling one another. A strange feeling, warm but bitter, filled his chest for a moment as he remembered how pure the love between them was. It always will be, he thought, and abruptly turned his head slightly and took a couple of steps back. The shifting colors of Denzel's mindscape slowed down considerably.

He cursed himself internally. He wanted them to think that they were in at least a little danger. In his many years of teaching, Mr. Crocker had found that people are more likely to listen if they're scared of you. Honestly, his unhinged demeanor was something that he developed as a defensive mechanism. Even given all of this, however, he knew that he'd never have the heart to hurt the two of them. He really didn't want them to know that, but the middle-aged teacher knew that Wanda was far too observant and Cosmo was far too empathetic for neither of them to notice his slip-up just now.

"Um...I get why you don't have any trust in us right now, but I do know that someone aside from us cares about you. And even though you don't want to admit it, you care about him, too," Cosmo said.

Denzel tilted his head inquisitively. "Oh?"

He stared at Cosmo in silence for a moment.

Then he began to laugh.

It started as nothing more than a cynical chuckle, which quickly evolved into a full-on, unhinged, painful guffaw.

"Heh- so you're this desperate -AHAHAHA- to fix the mess you made of me, hm? You must be feeling- HOHEEHEHOEOOO- quite quilty, then! BWAHAHHAHAHAHA! How pathetic."

The deep reds were swirling about again, and the black branches seemed to be multiplying in number as they attacked any and all colors around them aside from those belonging to the three living creatures below them.

"Er...th-that's not quite what I meant, Mr. Crocker," Wanda stuttered.

"Ohohoho, yeah, sure. Like either of you know anything about how I'm feeling. It's like I've been marinating in a pot of misery since before I was ever born. I get hurt, and I hurt everyone around me, so no one wants to stay. I really am better off dead. I think that I was just born to serve as entertainment to some sadistic higher power. " he finished, his voice breaking despite his best efforts.

"I...I disagree," Cosmo whispered.

"Pardon?" Denzel breathed.

"I used to be miserable too," Cosmo said, "but those days are behind me now. Misery doesn't have to be permanent. Now I'm happy with my life. I love my wife more than I ever thought was possible, and I believe that she loves me, too. We work well together. We enjoy our job because we know we're doing something very important. Plus, working with kids is just really fun! They say such silly things and are just full of wonder. And...and...being alive just doesn't hurt so much anymore. And, Denzel, you deserve to be happy. It's still possible for you to be happy, which is why you are most certainly not better off dead!"

"Cosmo, these things are possible for you because you have people who love you. I don't. Surely, you can see what the issue is," a bone-deep exhaustion crept into the teacher's voice.

"Denzel, we-"

"Don't," Denzel hissed. "Don't you dare lie to me again." The lovely but terrifying colors surrounding them screeched to a halt and began to darken.

Silence.

"No, no, I can't do this," he said, pressing his palms against his temples. "P-please, don't do that. Don't give me false hope and then just...leave. You...you...abandoned me. When I needed you the most."

"Denzel," Cosmo pleaded.

"I'm too far gone now," Crocker cried. "You can't fix this." The color was completely gone now, only black and gray remained. The unorganized shapes were starting to form into figures. Human figures, hazy blobs, and things that Denzel recognized but refused to acknowledge lurked about. The black branches seemed to take an offensive route, slicing at some of these figures. They also threatened Cosmo and Wanda by coming toward them and missing only by centimeters, but the two of them knew that their former godchild could never bring himself to hurt them. In the center of it all, this former godchild of theirs sat with his forehead resting on his knees and his fingernails digging into his scalp.

Cosmo looked into Wanda's eyes, waiting for her signal. She nodded silently. Together, they slowly floated toward their former godson. The two of them hovered a few inches from his head, just giving him time to collect his thoughts. Eventually, Denzel forced his hands to relax and allowed them to rest harmlessly against his temples. Next, he started to take deep, methodical breaths. They were stilted and awkward at first, but they gradually smoothed out. The figures of his mindscape were mostly frozen in place now, although some of the edges had become blurred, giving them a softer appearance. Wanda audibly sucked in her breath as she realized something horrible. This was not the first time Denzel had done this. How many times had he been in this position, crying and alone, with no one to comfort him but himself? A brush against her arm and a sad, knowing smile from her husband told her that he was thinking the same thing.

"You know," he said, his voice strained and muffled, "because of the time and place in which Jorgen wiped my memories, my first ever childhood memory is just...me getting chased by a mob. When I came home that day, I eventually looked in the mirror. I was disgusted by my appearance, so I just assumed that they were chasing me because I was ugly. That had some serious repercussions for my self-esteem, as you can imagine. But I wasn't always ugly, was I? That beefy fairy who separated us on that day also did something to me, right? I know he wiped my memory, but what else did he do?"

"Well, actually, he gave you way too much of that memory-wipe stuff, and it did have an impact on your body," Wanda said.

"And everyone around knew that?" he asked.

"Yes. And...and no one did anything about it. We didn't do anything about it," Wanda answered.

"Why?" Denzel asked. That one word carried decades of emotion with it.

"Well, we were revealed in front of that huge group of people. Jorgen, that beefy fairy guy you were talking about, had to erase everyone's memories immediately to prevent knowledge of our existence from leaving that group of people. Because once it left, and would travel around the globe so quickly that there would be no hope of fixing the issue.

"So I'm just collateral damage? My whole life was ruined so that humans wouldn't find out about the existence of fairies? Your secret is really that important?"

"As much as I hate to say it, yes. To everything."

"Why? He stood up and shouted. "Why is it more important?" So many different hues of red swirled about, threatening to take everyone down with them. The strange shapes were moving about quicker than ever before, crashing into each other and shattering. They seemed to no longer care about damaging themselves. The branches hooked themselves into the ground as if their only hope was to wait out this maelstrom of betrayal.

"Denzel," Cosmo said, gently grabbing a couple of the teacher's fingers with his hands and looking directly into his eyes, "it's because of what our real job is."

"C-Cosmo!" Wanda shouted.

"He needs to know that we had no choice. He's never going to be at peace with all of this until he knows."

Wanda rarely heard Cosmo speak with such confident sincerity. She knew in her heart that he was right, but she was still apprehensive about sharing this information with him. What if it did more harm than good? That was entirely possible. But even so, she believed in her gut instincts, and more importantly, she believed in Cosmo.

"Okay, Cosmo. You're right," she said.

"What...what are you two talking about?"

"Denzel. When we first came into your life, we gave you the same spiel that every fairy gives to every new godkid," Wanda said.

"Yes. You said that your job was to make miserable kids happy by granting wishes for them."

"Yeah. And that's not far from the truth, really."

"And the truth is…?"

"Our job is to keep suicidal children from committing suicide," Cosmo said.

Crocker's jaw dropped.

"There isn't much we can really do to change the human world. Rules from creatures far more powerful from us prevent us from doing so. But we can provide emotional support, and we can distract kids from their problems by using our magic," Cosmo finished.

"We thought our powers were useless for centuries because we have quite a bit of limitations. We are the most limited when we aren't assigned to any god kids. It's complicated stuff, but it doesn't really matter right now, though. Basically, this arrangement is sorta perfect for us. Kids live until adulthood, and we have something meaningful to do with ourselves," Wanda explained.

"Um...okay, but why do the children also have to forget about the fairies who were assigned to them?" Denzel asked.

"Same reason as earlier. We can't have the whole world knowing about us. We have too many limitations and weaknesses. It would be easy for greedy humans to do whatever they please with us. It puts our species in danger as well as your own."

Denzel was silent. He sat down on the ground and he stayed that way for several minutes as he mulled over this new information. Cosmo and Wanda remained silent as well and gave him the time he needed.

"Cosmo. Wanda. I'm sorry," he croaked, "and thank you."

"What are you-"

"I'm sorry that I've been blaming all of my problems on you when all you were trying to do was help people. And I'm sorry for making your current godson's life a living hell, and for trying to catch the two of you. I thought it would help. I really did. I'm cruel to Timmy at school because I've always known he has fairy godparents. A part of me is just jealous of him, but another part of me doesn't want him to go through the same thing that I went through. I don't want him to lose you."

"Denzel-"

"And I wanted to capture you two to prove to the world that I'm not crazy. I thought that maybe I could get a grip on my life if I did that. I had no clue what the price would be."

"Denzel…"

"Most of my life has been pretty shitty, but I can still vaguely remember what it was like to feel loved because of you two. You do your job well. So, from the bottom of my heart, although it may not mean much now, thank you." Denzel's voice cracked on the last two words and a single tear ran down his cheek.

"We will always love you, Denzel. Always."

The timid, genuine smile that graced his face upon hearing those told both fairies that he believed them.

"So, am I going to forget all of this when I wake up?"

"No. That's taken care of." Wanda said.

"On that note, how did you even get in here in the first place?" Crocker asked. He paused for a moment. "It was Turner, wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh," the fairies said in unison, nodding.

"Timmy came here with Mr. Dinkleberg once to visit you. He heard the neurologist say something like, 'he's missing something that we can't give to him,' and Timmy started asking us about it, since he knows you used to be our godkid. We decided to go to our higher-ups about the situation because we sorta felt like we hadn't completed our job with you all those years ago. With that reasoning, we got Jorgen to allow Timmy to wish us in here," Cosmo said.

"People have been visiting me?" Denzel asked incredulously.

"Why yes, of course. Your sister and Kevin have visited every day. Timmy was here twice, once with Mr. Dinkleberg and once with his parents. The Principal of the school you work at has been here too, as well as some other staff members," Wanda said.

"Sheldon's been here?" Denzel asked, seeming to perk up a bit.

Cosmo and Wanda exchanged a glance before Wanda answered, "Yes, he and your sister have been taking care of, er, things at home."

"Um...okay? That's nice of them," he said, obviously perplexed.

Wanda sighed. "Don't worry about it right now. You need to heal first."

"Is the fact that I know who the two of you are and that I can remember some of the time we spent together when I was a child also something I don't need to worry about right now?"

"Yes, except maybe don't mention that, like, ever. We sorta broke a lot of rules for that to happen, so just don't question it," Cosmo said.

"Hm." he mumbled, suddenly distracted by the scenery. All the different shapes looked damaged, but they were no longer smashing together. When they collided, they gently brushed past each other. There was a much larger variety of colors in them, too. Before, he'd only seen orange, red, gray, and black, but now he could see hints of green, yellow, blue, purple, brown, and any other color he could think of peeking out from some of the shadows. Most of them were quite faint, but they were there. Denzel extended a hand to let his fingers graze one of the shapes floating toward him. Touching it gave him a feeling he didn't really know how to describe, but it wasn't unpleasant.

"Denzel?" Cosmo asked.

"Hm?"

"Can you promise me something?"

"Depends on what it is," he said with a teasing smirk.

Cosmo took a deep breath. "Promise me that you'll try to find happiness in your life."

Denzel dropped his mischievous act and contemplated this for a moment. Then, he lifted his right arm and tucked in all of his fingers except for his pinkie. Cosmo copied him, and they tapped their pinkies together, holding them there for a moment.

"I promise," Denzel said.

The three of them stood in silence for a moment before Wanda asked, "Are you ready, Denzel?"

"I suppose. Will I ever speak to you two again?"

"I think we're supposed to say no, but honestly, that's probably not true." Cosmo said with a giggle.

"Alright, then," he said. Almost everyone on Earth hates goodbyes. Denzel was no exception, but he could sense that the visit needed to end very soon. "Goodbye Cosmo, goodbye Wanda. Thank you for everything."

"Goodbye, Denzel!" they both said, poofing away as quickly as they appeared. The teacher already resented the sadness that began pooling underneath his sternum the second they left. He did his best to ignore it.

Mr. Crocker guessed that this meant that it was time for him to wake up from his coma. He was scared to go back to the world that had tortured him his entire life and to the mess he'd left there. Even so, Cosmo and Wanda had told him about all those people who had visited him. He loved and missed his sister, and he adored her son, Kevin. As much as he hated to admit it, he had grown to enjoy being an elementary school teacher, too. His endearing and carefree students often made him forget his loneliness, even if he did usually keep his emotional distance from them. The fairies had also mentioned that Sheldon had been there to visit him. Sheldon Dinkleberg, the guy who Denzel totally did not develop a massive gay crush on the moment he'd first offered to spend some time with him. Maybe he was sitting beside Denzel's comatose body that very moment. The thought made him feel irrationally giddy for a second until he cursed his foolishness.

He decided that it was time to go. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and allowed his mindscape to fade away all around him. Eventually, he realized he could feel a bed underneath him and a blanket on top of him. He took a few minutes to get his bearings. He could hear the rhythmic beeping of his own heart monitor. There was an IV in his right arm. His limbs felt stiff, and his head was throbbing.

He heard a voice next: "Denzel? Denzel, are you awake?"

Sheldon. Ha, he was right earlier.

He slowly and painfully opened his eyes, but it felt more like peeling a band-aid off of a second-degree burn. The harsh, unnatural light attacked his senses.

"Hey, take it easy, now. There's no need to rush," his big gay crush said tenderly.

Denzel heard Sheldon get up and flip a switch, which must have been a light switch. Denzel finally managed to open his eyes. Even with the light off, it still took him a few minutes to adjust. Sheldon sat quietly and waited. He eventually handed the teacher a cup of water, which he drank gratefully.
"Hi, Sheldon," he managed to rasp.

"Hey, Crocker. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," he said, "but I'm glad you're here."

Sheldon smiled at him. "I was really worried about you waking up when no one was here. I figured that would be pretty devastating."

The two of them went on like that for the better part of an hour. Sheldon did most of the talking, explaining how his sister had somehow managed to salvage his totaled van that he'd rammed into a tree ten days ago. Eventually, the pressure in his head from before, right by his hairline, began making it difficult for Denzel to pay attention. He felt as if someone was drilling into his skull. His hand reflexively kept moving toward that spot, and eventually, Sheldon noticed.

"Goodness, is your head bothering you?"

Denzel nodded painfully. "Yes, but it's not a big dea-"

"Right here?" Sheldon asked, gently grabbing his head and moving his thumb over the spot that had been giving him trouble.

His entire body tensed and he squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he saw Sheldon's hand coming toward his face. When no pain came, he hesitantly opened his eyes. Sheldon was watching his expression carefully, his fingers now barely grazing his cheek. He must have pulled his hand back when Denzel flinched. He carefully moved his thumb back to Denzel's hairline and traced slow, gentle circles into his skin over the area, applying light pressure. This poor, touch-starved man had no clue how to react. He sat there, frozen for a good while, trying to decide how he felt about it. He felt the pain start to ebb away, and he found himself leaning into the touch. After a few minutes, he felt safe enough to allow himself to relax. Sheldon sensed the shift in him and guided him into a lying position, never missing a beat. He moved his thumb from its original spot, as Denzel's headache was now a long-forgotten memory, and moved it in circular motions all across his forehead and hairline. They stayed like this for about twenty minutes, and both of them were content to sit there and enjoy what was happening. Eventually, Sheldon's soothing touch and Denzel's own bone-deep exhaustion joined forces to create a pleasant but powerful drowsiness. It weighed on his eyelids like snow on a willow branch, but for whatever reason, he instinctively fought it. Sheldon responded by slowing down his caresses and making his circles a bit bigger. He thought the slight change would be distracting enough to get him to lower his guard completely. It almost worked. Just as he thought he'd finally lulled the teacher to sleep, his eyelids apparently got a second wind and fluttered open, though they were drooping heavily.

"Denzel," he whispered, "you deserve a decent rest. Please let yourself fall asleep. You don't need to fight it. You're safe now. There's not a thing you need to worry about."

This just may have been worth surviving for, he thought, accepting the request.

One week and several new prescriptions later, Denzel was discharged from the hospital. He was apprehensive to go home by himself. Thankfully, Diana and Kevin were staying there for the time being. Diana took their mother's bedroom, as her funeral had been held shortly before Denzel wound up in the hospital, and thus she obviously would not be occupying it anytime soon. Kevin took the spare bedroom. This arrangement made Denzel a lot happier than he'd expected it to. He and his sister never spent any time together growing up because she lived with her father, so this was really the first time they had ever spent quality time together. She was nice to be around; she was down-to-earth and incredibly cynical, but she was also quite fierce and compassionate. Her son was kind and intelligent, if not a bit socially awkward. Sheldon stopped by often as well. They officially began dating about two weeks after Denzel got out of the hospital, and their relationship was progressing at a comfortable pace. Affection was a new concept to Denzel, and sometimes it frightened him, but Sheldon was patient. Denzel honestly did not see what Sheldon saw in him, but everytime he questioned his partner about it, he would just kiss him on the cheek and smile, causing the teacher to practically melt. It took him a while to figure out how to reciprocate the affection that his partner constantly gave to him, but the first time it happened went a little something like this:

Denzel walked through Sheldon's front door one evening and found him feverishly sorting through some tax papers on the living room floor, directly in front of the couch. There was a list of phone numbers scrawled furiously over a couple of pieces of junk mail. Without looking up, he gruffly explained that some company was trying to sue him for quite a bit of money that he didn't actually owe, but he was having trouble finding the document that proved it. He seemed to be growing more frustrated and stressed by the second. Denzel knew that he needed to do something, but he hesitated, realizing that he didn't really know what that something was. After some internal debate, he decided to just go for it.

"Hey," he said, gingerly pushing aside some crumpled papers and hastily flinging his arms around his partner, "just breathe. It's late, we don't need to do this right now." He settled his chin on Sheldon's shoulder and let his own weight gently pin him between his body and the couch. He refused to move until he felt his partner's heart rate slow to a normal pace. Eventually, the two of them got up and sat on the couch. They both faced forward now with Denzel's head resting on the other's chest, both of them in a position that was somewhere between sitting up and lying down.

"So, um, did I do that right?" Denzel asked sheepishly.

Sheldon chuckled softly. "You were perfect, dear," he said, tracing circles on his back with a thumb. Ever since that first evening in the hospital, there was nothing else in the world that made Denzel feel more safe and content than that circular motion.

Denzel went back to work at the elementary school, and people were behaving strangely around him. His coworkers were being friendlier. Even the children were approaching him more often. It genuinely confused him. He suspected that they were acting this way because they all knew what he'd done to end up in the hospital. Perhaps they're afraid I'll do it again and succeed, and then they will be to blame. Tiny footsteps behind him interrupted his thoughts, and he turned his back to the chalkboard to see who had come to see him.

"Hello, Turner," he said, "why aren't you outside?"

"Um...can I ask you a personal question?" the boy asked timidly, looking down at his feet.

"Erm, I suppose so, but I'll reserve the right to not answer it," he tried his best to ignore the pink eraser and green pen sticking out of Timmy's pocket.

"So, Mr. Crocker, are you, um…" he lifted his forearm and flicked his wrist forward like a teenager showing her best friend her new manicure.

"Am I...what, exactly?" he asked, copying Timmy's gesture, lifting an eyebrow.

Timmy tried and failed to suppress a giggle.

"Are you messing with me, kid?" he asked, a little more harshly than he meant to. He couldn't stop himself from getting defensive.

"Oh, uh, no, I was just, um," he started to back away, seeming a little embarrassed and frightened. Seeing that made the teacher's heart drop.

Mr. Crocker sighed. "No, wait a second. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you. You didn't do anything wrong. I just don't know what that means. Can you explain it to me, please?"

"You're really not mad?" the boy asked.

"No, I'm not mad."

"Do you promise not to get mad?"
The teacher fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, I promise."

"Well okay, um, this," he said, flicking his wrist again, "is kind of like a signal that you're part of the LGBTQ community."

Crocker blinked in surprise. "Oh. So you're asking me if I am a part of the LGBTQ community?"

"Um, yeah. Sorry if it's a weird thing to ask. It's just that Mr. Dinkleberg is my neighbor and I see you go over there a lot, and I saw you hug him. And when I went to the hospital with him that one time, he said that you were his favorite person in the world."
He couldn't help but smile when he heard that last part. "No, it's okay. Yes, I am a part of that community. I happen to love your neighbor quite a bit."

Timmy's face lit up. "Cool! Okay, so I want you to take these, then. One is for you, and one is for Mr. Dinkleberg," he said, pulling two hand-made, rainbow bracelets out of his backpack. "I would just walk over to his house and give his bracelet to him on my own, but I don't think my parents would like that," he finished, a bit of sadness creeping into his voice.

"Thank you very much, Turner," he said, closing his hand over the bracelets and trying not to cry. "And if you ever want to talk about anything of this nature again, just let me know. Now, go catch the bus."

"Okay, bye Mr. Crocker! You're welcome!" he said, sprinting out the door.

Later that evening, Denzel went home and told Sheldon about his day and gave him the bracelet.

"Ha! This is very kind of him. Tell him I said 'thanks' if you see him again before I do. Man, that made you really happy, didn't it?"

"Eh?"

"You've been beaming since you walked in that door," he said, grinning.

"Ah, well maybe it's because I knew that you'd be here." That earned him another smile. "Oh, you know, a lot of other weird things like that have been happening at the school lately."

"Like what?"

"Just...people. Being nice. Making an effort to talk to me. Some of the kids even seem to like me."

"Heh, Denzel, has it ever occurred to you that maybe you're the one who is acting differently?"

"Whatever do you mean, Sheldon?"

"Well," he began, pausing to think of a good way to phrase what he wanted to convey, "before we started dating, I took a liking to you because I saw a glimpse of who you really are."

"Um...what?"

"You've spent most of your life just trying to protect yourself, right? And when I showed you some kindness, some of your true colors started to shine through. And your colors are beautiful, Denzel."

"Oh, goodness," Denzel said, moving to cover his flushed face. "But...thank you."

I kept my promise, Cosmo.