"English, doc." A garbled, yet familiar voice cuts through the silence.
You are John Egbert.
"Mr. Egbert has Ménière's disease," another voice says, equally fuzzy.
You were just playing the piano.
"It means that his hearing is getting worse, possibly becoming permanent in due time."
So why are you lying on your back?
"But he's a musician, he can't be deaf!" That's Dave's voice. You eyes flutter open slowly, but you flinch from the brightness. You are suddenly aware of the faint ringing in your ears.
"I'm sorry, but there's nothing I can do about it. A long time ago, he declared that he does not want to fix his situation. Besides, there is no definitive way to treat it. It may even disappear on its own." You finally place the voice: your old doctor.
"Not with his luck," Dave's voice is laced with anxiety and frustration. They turn to you and are surprised to see you conscious. Dave immediately bends down and grabs your hand. "John! You fucking idiot, why didn't you tell me about this! You promised me, no more secrets!"
You try your best to smile, but your heart aches. He was right. There shouldn't have been any more secrets between the two of you. And you don't want to admit it, but you can hardly hear him in your condition.
"The same reason you didn't tell me about yours," you say. His eyebrows knit into a deeper furrow and his frown is even more prominent. You look up to your doctor. "Thanks, doctor. I'll be fine. Send me the bill later."
Your doctor nods and heads out, and then it's just the two of you in heavy silence. He's still staring at you through those sunglasses, and it's obvious he desperately wants to know, but doesn't pry. You decide he deserves to know. After all, he told you about his condition. It's only fair.
"After we finished Sburb and returned to our 'normal' lives, for some reason, I developed tinnitus. To this day, I still haven't the faintest idea how. Like you said, it's just my luck. One day, out of the blue, there was a loud ringing sound. So loud, my head was throbbing. I went to get it checked out and it was Ménière's disease. It means I have hearing loss from time to time, and it may become permanent soon. Yeah, I know. Just my luck. Anyway, it comes and goes sporadically, and each time, my hearing gets slightly worse. So I never know when it's going to happen. Although, it hadn't happened for quite a while, so I foolishly thought it might have gone away."
Dave ducks his head and runs a hand through his hair, sighing loudly out of aggravation. "How long until you lose your hearing completely?"
"Maybe a couple of years?" You shrug lightly. "Oh! What happened about the concert?"
"Oh, yeah, your manager was worried and pissed. I'm guessing you didn't tell her about this, huh?" You shake your head in confirmation. "She says to give her a call when you're feeling better. Lucky for you the concert was almost over."
"Ugh! This is so embarrassing! Collapsing at the end of a concert like that... What are people going to think?" You place a hand over your eyes and you can feel your cheeks burning up. "This is not the type of publicity I wanted."
"Maybe they'll praise you for being so good with your hearing out so bad," he says, trying to help you see the brighter side of the situation, but you just sigh. "Anyway you just lay your ass down for a few days and I'll take real good care of you, Egderp."
"Dave, only my hearing is going out," you say, laughing. "I'm not sick! I'm fine." And to prove it, you get out of bed, but stumble slightly. You figure it must be that the fluid sloshing around in your ears hadn't had time to settle, causing you to lose your balance. Dave grabs you by the arm, but you shake him off gently, wanting to prove to him that you're fine.
The rest of the day goes by relatively slowly, as Dave has you cooped up in the house. You grant your manager's wish by giving her a call. She expresses her genuine worry, then after that's all done and over with, immediately scolds you for being so careless. She tells you that you'll be getting a senseless beating, although that may be no more than a rough noogie on the head. You're a bit disappointed when she says that she's already cancelled next week's performance, but you promise to rest up and get plenty of practice anyway.
Meanwhile, Dave has prepared dinner, carefully following the instructions on a box of mac and cheese to the very best of his abilities. When you comment on how much cheese he's added, he says it's probably because his vision is becoming a little blurry. You offer to give him a ride to the optometrist soon, but he waved off the offer, heavily implying that he'd probably die under the current circumstances.
Dinner finishes in a bit of an awkward silence and Dave cleans up, demanding you get ready for bed. Sensing his stubbornness, you oblige and get ready for bed. After your usual nightly routine, you're about to get into bed when Dave walks in, dressed down into a simple shirt and pants, which you realize to be his sleepwear.
"All tucked in, princess?" he teases. You wrinkle your nose, but you're glad he's back to cracking jokes. All that worrying was so out of character for him that you were starting to worry about HIM.
"Yes, mother, thank you for fussing over me the whole day, even though I said I was perfectly fine," you reply, pulling the covers over your chest.
"Woah, wait, what are you doing, scoot over, John," he says, suddenly pulling away the covers after you worked so hard to get comfortable.
"What?"
"There is no god damn way I'm letting you sleep alone after what happened yesterday," he says, pushing you over and crawling in. "What if you freak out in the middle of the night and I don't hear because I'm too busy dreaming about what a wonderful rapper slash DJ I am and all that crazy shit?"
"Oh my god, Dave," you say, rolling your eyes. "Is this your lame plan to finally get into bed with me?"
"What no why would you ever think that," he replies, turning to face the opposite side. "Dude, no, look. Here I am, sleeping away from you. My arms are totally off the edge of the bed, practically yelling at the monsters to eat them in the middle of the night. How could you think of me like that? After all this time, John."
You burst out laughing, and it's like nothing had ever changed between the two of you. However, there is one thing. You slip an arm over his waist and pull yourself close to his body. You feel the heat radiating from that slim figure. Your breath catches.
"So are we going to do it or what?" he asks.
You respond by slipping your hand under his shirt.