James Cipperly hadn't wanted to leave his apartment. It had been a nice place, a convenient drive to the airport he usually ends up flying out from. And he'd been comfortable there, his neighbors usually content to keep to themselves and let him carry on with his unorganized schedule without complaint. But then one night he'd woke up to a fire alarm going off and smoke in the air. He'd stumbled downstairs alongside a few neighbors just in time to look up and see flames licking out of the roof and a couple of windows towards one corner, and had known with a sinking kind of certainty deep inside that this chapter of his life was over.

From there, he hadn't had much of a choice. Finding a new apartment and moving what he'd able to recover from the water damaged mess that his place had turned into it eats up a lot of his free time and energy. Thankfully the place comes already furnished so once he drops the last box of salvageable stuff into the floor, he drops back onto the couch and rests an arm over his face, drifting.

There's an extended silence before he forces himself to sit up. He could unpack, check his email and contact his boss, get something to eat, but he's just too wiped out for it so he staggers directly to bed, groaning faintly as he collapses down onto the mattress. it's strange, nothing at all like his old bed, but it's warm and somewhat comfortable enough to sprawl out on, so he closes his eyes and breathes in and out deeply until sleep claims him.

He's having an oddly pleasant dream, which is a nice change of events from recent nightmares of fire and smoke, when something breaks through his subconscious and wakes him up. He groans and blinks, looking around with a frown, realizing that it's morning, if the sun shining through his bedroom window is any indication. He's just started to think he'd been hearing things when the sound happens again- knocking from the other room. He groans and sluggishly creeps out of bed, blinking as he staggers into the living room. "Coming," he calls out as another knock sounds at his front door.

He opens it after making sure the chain is still in place, squinting through the sliver of space he can see through. "Hello?"

A woman is standing out there, a small smile on her face. "Hello," she says. "I live just down the hall., and, well, I saw you moving in yesterday, thought I'd come and welcome you to the building." She hesitates as he pushes the door in, unlatches the chain and opens the door the rest of the way.

"Sorry about that," he says. "I just woke up."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she responds, eyes widening. "I didn't realize."

"It's ok," he says. "Do you want to come in?"

"For a minute, if you don't mind," she says, stepping inside. "I, uh. Brought you something to eat, as a welcome to the building." She holds up a dish that he hadn't noticed until this moment. "It's a pasta bake." Her smile looks a little forced as he reaches out and takes the dish from her.

"Thank you," he says, holding the dish carefully. His eyes widen as he glances at the clock on the stove and realizes it's well past noon. "I appreciate it. I, uh. I guess I haven't been eating or sleeping well the last few days, so I think it just hit me last night. I'll make sure to return your dish as soon as I finish."

She nods. "There's no hurry. I hope you like it."

"It smells delicious," he says. "I'm sure I will."

She beams at him. "Well, I have to get back home. If you ever need anything, I'm just down the hall. Apartment 238."

"Thanks again," he says, walking her to the door. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," she says with a smile, offering a little wave as she heads back down the hallway.

"Nice woman," James mumbles to himself as he takes the food into the kitchen. He sets it down on the island and stares at it for a moment before lifting up the breathes in deeply, finding the woman had included a fork and some napkins. "She thought of everything," he mumbles, scooping up some of the pasta and tomatoes and chewing on it without bothering to find plates or anything else. He can't remember how long it's been since he's had a homecooked meal, between traveling and then the fire, so he closes his eyes and savors it.

When he opens his eyes, he freezes, swearing there's something in the corner. A person. He squints, trying to look at it and finding it nearly impossible to focus on properly. He frowns down at his food for a moment before looking back up at the ghostly figure. "Hello?"

The spirit stares at him, still flickering in and out of sight. James blinks and suddenly the shape has moved closer, standing next to where he's standing, only a little more discernible at this close distance. James shivers as the temperature in the room drops, sending a chill down his spine. The spirit reaches down, what James thinks is his hand presses over the fork but fails to move it or wrap around it. James looks up at what he can see of the spirit and frowns, finding a strangely sad look on the man's face before he completely flickers out of sight. James grimaces and looks around the room, seeing that everything's gone back to normal. It even feels warmer again. "What was that?" he mumbles, brows furrowing as he reluctantly goes back to eating.

Once nothing else happens after a few reluctant bites, he eats more confidently and finishes up half of the dish before putting the rest back in the fridge for later.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully, and James naps after spending a couple of hours sorting through renters insurance information, but once James stirs again, he winces and scrubs at his face, blinking uncertainly as he thinks he sees a flash of something by the closet. He squints and stares as once more the form of the spirit he'd seen the night before shimmers and glints in the faint light of the setting sun, no more cohesive than it was in the morning. He frowns and eases his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up. "Who are you?" he asks the spirit, face pinching even more when the spirit doesn't seem to react to the sound of his voice. "Maybe I really am losing it," he sighs, scrubbing harder at his face before standing up.

Getting up, he stumbles into the bathroom and pauses upon finding the spirit now standing behind him, watching him in hte mirror. "Is there something I can do for you?" He feels truly untethered, circling the drain. Certain that this might be the first sign of insanity, when he leans down to splash water on his face and looks up to find the spirit gone once more. "Good," he mumbles. "Can't a guy get some privacy around here?"

He ventures into the kitchen and pulls out the only real food he has in the fridge- his neighbor's pasta leftovers. Deciding to eat it as is since he doesn't have a microwave set up yet, he's chewing thoughtfully on the cold noodles, considering where to begin with unpacking first, when the temperature shifts again, drops suddenly, and he groans, putting his fork down. "What is it?" he asks, but the frustration fades from his voice when he looks up to find the spirit staring once more at the pasta, a strange expression of pain and yearning on what of his face James can observe. He picks at the food in silence for a minute before looking again at the spirit. "I, uh. I don't know a lot about ghosts, but... I... I would like to help you? Somehow? If you... think of anything I can do, and can figure out a way to communicate it to me? I'll do what I can."

The spirit slowly moves its gaze from the pasta to James' face, searching helplessly before making a motion like what seems to be a nod, disappearing into nothing once more moments afterwards.

"Well, alright then," James mumbles, finishing off his food before putting everything into the sink for later and heading into the living room to begin unpacking.

He's not sure how long he's spent unpacking, but the natural light is fading and he thinks it's been hours when he looks up to find the spirit once more, hovering in front of him, a strange look on his face. "Hello?" James offers, finally looking over to check the clock. He blinks repeatedly, surprised to find it's well past midnight. "Well, damn," he mumbles. His eyes are itchy, he's only felt this tired a time or two in his life, and he doesn't even know what to do about the spirit who keeps appearing and disappearing at random intervals.

The spirit is still hovering, watching him, and James frowns at him. "I wish I knew what your name was, or something about you."

The spirit's mouth moves like he's about to say something, but then he grits his teeth and looks away.

"Well," James sighs. "If you feel like sharing, I still have a few uninterrupted days here because my boss gave me some time off due to having to move and everything, so I'll be around." He glances down at the boxes before him, and when he looks back up, the spirit is gone again. "Right," he mumbles.

He crashes again after that and when he wakes up, he observes the apartment quietly. The living room and kitchen are done, which leaves the bedroom. He doesn't have much to do for that, a lot of his clothes had been ruined between the smoke and water, and he'd had little choice but to get an entirely new wardrobe but the few things he'd been able to spare gets put in the dresser or hung in the closet.

It's slow, tedious, exhausting work and by the time he's done putting a few things out on shelves and on top of the dresser, he decides it's time for another nap- yeah, he's being indulgent, sue him- and he goes to bed, sinking down into the sheets with a groan. His eyes are fluttering shut when he senses something yet again and he blinks, somehow not surprised to find the spirit hovering at the foot of his bed, watching him.

"Tyler," he whispers, the first word he's ever spoken since James moved in. "My name's Tyler."

James' last thought before he falls asleep is that the spirit's voice is a lot deeper than he expected it to be, considering how young he looks.

-x

Things progress smoothly for awhile then. James gets settled into his apartment, sees a few neighbors coming and going, and he even gets some real food into his fridge- after washing his neighbor's pasta dish and fork and returning them to her at her front door, of course. He readjusts the furniture around the room to the best of his ability, leaves things more to his liking, and the entire time, the spirit watches him closely, as if waiting, expecting something to happen. "Tyler," James says, smirking slightly as the spirit stands a little taller upon being addressed. "I have to leave tomorrow." He smooths his hand over the top shelf of a bookcase and looks back at Tyler. "Will you be alright?"

Tyler blinks, then nods. "Yeah," he mumbles.

"Were you this talkative before?" James wonders, watching as Tyler frowns, clearly uncertain how to respond to that. James hums, deciding to let it go.

"I don't... think so," he says slowly, each word seeming like a struggle. "My memories are... a little..." He pauses, a pained look on his face. "I can't remember some things too well. I, I don't know why."

This makes James freeze. "Oh," he says. "I'm sorry."

"I remember things, here and there, and sometimes... a memory comes to me, clearer than before, but I don't..." He grimaces, pressing his hands against his temples as if fighting off a headache. James wonders if ghosts can even have those. "I can't remember some of my life too well. It's like something's blocking me from remembering."

Explains a lot, James thinks, nods somberly. It could be any number of things that could cause that, things that could've left Tyler haunting this apartment, and unfortunately James' options when it comes to trying to help this spirit is limited. He could guide him to move on, but shit, the guy's not hurting anything, and it's kind of lonely, anyway, this life, so why not let him stay a little longer? If something changes, if he decides he's had enough and wants to go, James knows enough people in the business with enough knowledge of the supernatural and spirit worlds that he could probably find a quick fix. But, he thinks, looking once more into Tyler's sad eyes, that hopefully won't be necessary.

The next day, he leaves. Does his job. Comes home on the weekend and finds Tyler waiting for him, a pensive look on his face. Something in him eases at seeing him waiting, looking the same as he always does, and he thinks, Yeah. I can't force him out. He's probably the best roommate I've ever had

It's a little funny, it's a little sad, but James is content with the way things are going, Tyler seems to have no complaints, and that's more than enough for him.

-x

James' travel is never that consistent. Weekdays, sometimes weekends. He's never sure what his schedule's going to look like until at most a week beforehand, and he wonders sometimes what Tyler does when he's not at home, but how exactly do you approach a ghost and say, "Hey, what are you up to when I'm not around?" without sounding totally paranoid and weird. He's never figured out how best to broach the subject, but this week is especially bad for travel and he finds himself wondering about it all over again when he's on an unexpected flight to England. He has stitches in his head, right at his hairline, and he hadn't been sure he could even make the flight at first, but doctors cleared him, and so here he is, on his way to England and worried about the time and space there is now between him and Tyler. There's no way he'll completely lose it and trash the place or something, right? He's concerned about it through photo shoots and interviews, trying to appear calm and unbothered by everything around him. Trying to maintain his facade around all of these people, around the boss.

They end up sitting through a game of football, in the rain, and James finds himself once more thinking unabashedly about Tyler. If he's bored when James isn't home, if he's lonely. What exactly ghosts feel like while dealing with solitude. If it's somehow worse just because their grasp on reality is so tenuous. He wishes there was a way to call in, check on him, but unfortunately there's not, and he has very little choice but to sit here and continue listening to his boss talking on and on excitedly about the game while everyone else stares ahead in a daze.

The next morning, he's thankfully on a flight back to the States, where he gets a day at home before he has to fly out for the weekly show. Not really thinking, jetlagged and still nursing a little bit of a headache from the stitches, he unlocks his apartment door and staggers in, dropping his luggage at the door. He'll need it again soon, so there's very little reason to unpack. He forgets everything about his luggage and needing to travel back out tomorrow when he hears a startled noise and looks up to find Tyler staring at him, wide eyed. "Oh, hey," he says, before flinching back, blinking when the spirit suddenly forms directly in front of him, fingers hovering inches in front of his face. "Hey-"

"What happened to you?" he demands, and James realizes he's staring at the stitches along his hairline. It's the most he's spoken since admitting his memory issues. James feels rattled, like he could trip over his own feet even though he's standing perfectly still, not used to someone worrying about his little scrapes and injuries like this.

"Oh, uh, just a minor accident, it's fine-"

"You were gone so long," Tyler says, frowning. "And this..." He's still staring at the stitches, before meeting James' eyes, something haunted lying there. "My dad..." His frown grows more pensive, painful, like it always does when he tries to remember something pivotal from his past. "I... I was little. But he would... he would be gone for days, and then the next time I'd see him, he... he would have stitches, bruises. Worse than this, sometimes. My mom tried to explain it away, kinda like you just did, but I always knew there was something... something going on."

James, flustered, stares at Tyler. "I, uh..."

"Are you a wrestler, like he was?" Tyler's gaze flicks from his wound to his eyes and back again, frown growing along with his certainty. "You are, aren't you? What happened?"

"It..." James exhales, never expecting any of this. What are the odds? "It's just... I was in a street fight, and there were tables, and other things. I'll be fine, though. Just some stitches, I'm not even concussed." He pauses. "Your dad was a wrestler?" Quite the coincidence, but stranger things have happened, it's a small world, wrestling has a further reach than most probably even realize.

"Yeah."

James wants to ask if he's someone he knows, very badly, but Tyler just looks and sounds so sad about it all of a sudden that he decides to let it go. "I don't have a lot of time before I have to fly back out again in the morning, do you want to watch something?"

Tyler blinks at him, then nods. "Ok."

James picks something light, something amusing, and sits back, watching as Tyler adjusts himself awkwardly next to James on the couch. Not for the first time, James wonders how the physics work that Tyler can walk on the floor and sit on the couch like it's nothing, but when it comes to James trying to touch him or vice versa, it all falls apart and they're left with nothing to show for it as they fail yet again to reach each other.

An hour into the movie, Tyler clears his throat and looks over at him. "What's your wrestling name?"

James lifts an arm in a shrug. "Orange Cassidy."

"Oh. Ok." Tyler's lips twitch into a smirk but he doesn't offer up what he's thinking about, just turns his focus back onto the TV.

James searches his face and wonders.

-x

A few weeks have passed, James and Tyler growing more and more comfortable around each other despite all of the limitations in how they spend their time together, when there's a knock at the door one afternoon. James looks up from bills and other various bits of paperwork he's spending his rare day at home going over, blinking. Tyler isn't in sight, James isn't sure where he's at right now, but before he can take another searching glance around, another knock sounds at the door, somewhat louder than before, a little more desperate, and James sighs, getting up and walking over to see who it is. He peeks out of the peephole and then blinks, pulling the door open. "Oh, hey," he greets the woman who had brought him pasta the first day he'd moved in to the building.

She smiles sheepishly at him. "Hello, James." They've seen each other a few times in common areas of the building, exchanging hellos and other vague small talk before carrying on with their day. "I'm sorry to bother you," she says, trailing off, looking a little uncomfortable.

"No, you're not bothering me," he says. "Do you want to come in?"

"Oh, uh, no," she says. "I... I just- I sprained my wrist a couple days ago, and I need help with something, if you're not busy." She exhales, holding up her braced arm as if to prove her words. "My husband is out of town for a couple of days, and I... you were the first person I thought of."

James blinks. "Oh, of course," he says. "What do you need help with?"

She swallows. "It's- it's at my apartment. Um." She turns and heads back down the hall towards her door. When he closes his door behind him and follows, she relaxes a little. "My, uh. My son, he... he had an accident a couple of years ago," she explains. "He's... he's been in a coma since. His nurse is running late today, but this is the time in his care schedule where we're supposed to turn him over onto his side, it's supposed to help with bedsores and ... I normally am able to do it on my own," she says, unlocking the apartment door and holding it open for him. "But thanks to my wrist, I can't right now. Would you mind?"

"Of course," James says, following her through the apartment to a dimly lit bedroom off to the side. He watches, subdued and quiet, as she approaches the bed and leans over, brushing soothing fingers over her son's face. He steps a little closer as she turns a light on, casting the man's face into sharp relief, causing James to freeze in shock as he gets a good look.

"It's ok, Tyler," she whispers to the young man in the bed. "I'm home now, and I've brought a friend. He's going to help me make you more comfortable."

James swallows hard, staring at the flesh and blood version of the spirit that's two doors down in his apartment right now. "What happened to your son? if, uh, you don't mind me asking," he finally asks, his voice sounding foreign through the rushing in his ears.

She shakes her head, turning slightly to look at him while still touching Tyler's face. "I... I only know some details," she says softly, smoothing her fingers over his hair. "You know, my son's best friend used to live in the apartment you live in now. One day, they were... I don't know, being rambunctious young men, roughhousing, I suppose, and my Tyler tripped and ..." She swallows. "Hit his head on the edge of the marble island in the kitchen. His friend told me he never regained consciousness after that."

James hisses out a breath. "God," he whispers, feeling ill. It explains so much. Tyler's memory issues. The newly polished shine on the island he eats at. His reaction to James' minor head injury. He blinks, staring at Tyler's prone form, suddenly understanding so many little things from the last few weeks. "That's horrible."

"Yes." She strokes her fingers down Tyler's face, her expression a horrible mix of pain and love. "I miss him every day. His voice, his laugh. The glint in his eyes whenever he was teasing me or his father. How happy he was when his father would have time to help him with wrestling training. They had plans, you know. I wasn't too thrilled with the thoughts of him wrestling, especially after everything his father went through because of it, but he loved it. You could see it on his face after every training match. It's in his blood." She sighs. "As hard as it is for me, I know it's worse for his dad. Peter was so proud of him, the progress he was making in such a short time with his training."

"I'm so sorry," James says, unsure what else to say.

She swallows, squares her shoulders. "No, I'm sorry, you're so kind to come here and help me. I didn't mean to lay all of this on you." She steps back. "There's a sheet under him, if you grab it, it can brace him while you turn him onto his side. I'll show you."

Between the two of them, they get Tyler onto his side easily enough and James steps back, looking down at him, still more than a little dazed.

Tyler's mom exhales, resting her hand in Tyler's loose grip and squeezing his fingers gently before turning back to James. "Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?"

James hesitates. "Uh, well... You don't have to..."

She smiles. "It's the least I can do, really. We have other drinks, if you would like. Water. Soda..."

"Do you have diet Coke?"

"I think so, I'll look." She brushes past him, heading for the kitchen. When James doesn't follow, she pauses in the doorway and looks back. "You can spend a minute with him, if you'd like. I feel like... he enjoys hearing different voices. If that makes sense?"

He swallows and nods, resting a hand on the pillow next to Tyler's head once she's made her way down the hall. "Well," he says quietly. "You've been alive this whole time. Two doors down, this entire time." He shakes his head. "What are the odds." He examines Tyler's pale, motionless face, and compares it to the visage of the spirit he knows- the everlasting sadness, the flashes of the personality his mom had mentioned. "I'll fix this," he says to the comatose form in the bed. "I don't know how, but I'll find a way. I will."

He brushes his hand down Tyler's cheek, takes his hand and presses it to his face, marveling at actually getting to touch him after all of this time, closing his eyes and trying to impart how Tyler's skin feels to memory before tucking the sheets in more securely around him and turning to head into the kitchen to share a soda with Tyler's mom.

-x

There's a lot of weirdness in the business. James knows it, either embraces it or ignores it. Whatever feels safest at the time. But things are different now, he wants answers. Or suggestions. Something that will hopefully help Tyler. So he goes into places he usually avoids just to find them. Shadows sweep in the corner of his eyes, and James is pretty certain he's being watched, but he carries on, sunglasses on, head held high. Trying not to show just how badly all of this is bothering him.

He finds the door and knocks, holding his breath until it creaks open and a young woman peers out at him.

Skye Blue quirks an eyebrow, opens the door a little further. "Orange Cassidy," she greets him dryly. "There is nothing for you here."

"I think there is," he says, thoughts muddled, voice struggling to form words properly. The mere essence of the place is weighing him down, and he hasn't even stepped through the door yet. "I need to talk to Julia Hart."

"She has no time for you," Skye Blue reiterates and James feels the desperation choking him, seeing his one chance to get answers, to get help, slipping through his fingers.

"Please," he says.

Skye Blue rolls her eyes, moves to shut the door, but then-

"Wait," comes Julia Hart's frosty voice from deep within the shadows of the room. "I am intrigued. Let him in."

Skye Blue looks even further annoyed, but steps aside to let him in, a glower on her face as he carefully brushes past her.

Despite the gloom surrounding them as the door is closed behind him, he can still see well enough to observe as Julia slowly slinks into a standing position, circling him lazily. Watching him as he breathes in and out, waiting for her to be contented with whatever she finds. "You are drowning," she finally offers, sounding oddly pleased by the notion. "You wish to help someone but you do not know how, and it is making you suffer."

James winces. "That's why I'm here," he finally says once she's come to a slow stop in front of him, the two of them eye to eye for the first time since he'd walked into this room. "There's a spirit in my apartment... but his body is still alive, he's just... he..."

"An out of body experience?" Julia asks, lips parting a little. "Perhaps permanent?"

"He's been comatose for almost three years," Orange says. "His spirit's been trapped in my apartment for that long, and his body... his body is in a neighboring apartment. I need to know how to reunite the two."

She stares at him. "Fascinating." She brushes past him, tapping her finger against her chin. "It's something not regularly heard of... I perhaps can help you, but you will need to follow my instructions carefully."

"Whatever it takes," he says, staring at her desperately.

She smirks a little, runs her fingers over the top of her throne. "Hm," she sighs. "Well, there is a couple of options, but we will keep it simple, considering." She reaches out and a small vial appears in her hand, the black within sloshing and shifting within the glass. "Sprinkle this over his spirit, then yourself," she says. "It will bind his soul to you, instead of to your apartment. From there," she shrugs. "Take him to his body and see what happens."

It all sounds so abstract, almost too easy to be possible. He hates it. But it's all he has so he takes the vial carefully from her, tucking it in his pocket. "Thank you," he says. "Thank you very much." He glances once more at Skye Blue, who opens the door, clearly eager for him to go, and he quickly makes his escape before she can do something or Julia changes her mind.

"Ah," Julia sighs once the door clicks shut behind him, considering the debt now owed, how she will possibly collect in the future. She settles back down in her throne, resting her chin lazily in her hand and looking into the shadows, unimpressed. "Pure love. What a burden."

"Yes," Skye Blue agrees quietly, taking her place on the floor at Julia's feet and staring up at her with utter devotion.

-x

Thankfully the AEW events that week are on the east coast, so James opts to drive back home instead of risk losing the vial to aggressive TSA agents looking for an easy bust on whatever weird materials they might find. So he waves goodbye to Chuck and Trent, gets in the rental car and begins the drive back to New York. He feels desperate to get home, check on things. Put in motion getting Tyler's spirit reunited with his body. But, after hours of driving, once he actually hits New York, some of the confidence leaves him and by the time he parks in front of his apartment, all he can do is stare up at the building. Eyes tracking nervously from his window to where he thinks Tyler's apartment's window is at. So close, so far.

He closes his eyes tightly and thuds his fist against the dashboard before exhaling slowly. "Come on, James," he mutters, fingering the vial through the well-worn denim pocket. "Come on. He deserves better than being trapped in your shitty little apartment, you know this." He exhales again and pushes his way out of the car, grabbing his luggage and making his way up to the building. Still hesitant, still a little sick at heart, he finally makes it to his door and unlocks it, not surprised to find Tyler hovering in the doorway to the kitchen, a small smile on his face when he sees him. "Hey," James greets him quietly.

"Hey." Tyler's smile slips as he stares at him. "Is everything ok? You look..." He falters, frowning. "I don't know. Tense?"

James exhales. Eyes Tyler for a few moments, then comes to a decision. He had originally planned on moving immediately to get Tyler back to his body, but... this could be their last night together, if things go wrong. If James' best attempt fails. Or even if things go right. Tyler could get his life back and decide he doesn't want to spend time with James anymore, or...

James shakes his head, forcing these thoughts from his mind. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I'm ok. Just, uh, had a long drive home." He steps closer to where Tyler hovers and thinks, again, about the few moments he got to hold his hand, touch his face. Wishes he could do it again, right now. "I'm gonna order some food," he says, even though he's far from hungry. "Do you wanna watch some TV tonight? It looks like some really horrible looking movies hit streaming this past week, we can watch and make fun of them if you want."

Tyler blinks, then nods, reluctantly accepting the change of subject. For now. "Yeah, ok, sounds good."

"Ok." James smiles at him, pulling his phone out and trying to distract himself by ordering the first thing he sees, not really hungry right now. His thoughts are derailed, however, when the vial clinks around in his pocket and he exhales shakily, once more thinking about what's to come.

Eating in front of Tyler has always felt kind of thoughtless, even though he insists it's fine. Tonight feels even worse than usual, James struggling just to swallow down some of the grilled chicken and vegetables he'd ordered.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Tyler asks a little later, looking over at him with a frown. "You're quieter than usual... even for you."

"Yeah," James says, quickly taking another bite. "Just a lot on my mind, I guess."

"Is something going on with wrestling?" he asks, brows furrowing as he searches James' face.

"No, not exactly." He casts a glance over at Tyler and falters when he sees the worry on his face. He shouldn't look like that. Not because of me. Squaring his shoulders, he gets up to put his food away to try to eat the rest tomorrow, taking a minute in the kitchen to collect his racing thoughts. Returning to the couch, he settles down next to Tyler and turns towards him. "Listen, there are things going on but it's nothing I want to discuss right now. Can we just enjoy tonight, and then I'll explain in the morning?"

Tyler doesn't look thrilled by this, still searching James' face as he considers this. "I... guess?"

James forces a smile, nodding at Tyler as he unpauses the movie neither of them had been paying much attention to and tries to focus on the show, eventually easing Tyler into joining him with making fun of the dialogue and poor CGI.

When exactly he falls asleep, he's not sure, but he wakes up to a blank TV screen and a watchful spirit sitting directly in front of him, Tyler's gaze trailing around his face. "You're awake," he says after a few moments and James grimaces.

"Yeah," he mumbles, wiping at his face before forcing himself up into a sitting position.

"You said you'd tell me in the morning," Tyler says, an edge to his voice. "It's morning."

James frowns at him, squinting against the early morning sun creeping in through the drapes. "I'll be back in a minute," he mumbles, forcing himself up and making his way to the bathroom. After he's finished with his early morning ablations and splashes some water on his face, trying to wake up enough to have this conversation with Tyler, he reluctantly leaves the bathroom and returns to the couch, not surprised to find Tyler hasn't moved from his earlier position. "I don't know how to begin," he says, not quite able to look Tyler in the eye.

"Just... from the beginning, I guess. What's going on?" Tyler says, his hands pressed into fists as he waits.

"Last week, there was a knock at the door," James says. "It was the lady from the neighboring apartment, she needed my help with her comatose son. So I went to her place, and... well." He sighs, finally looking up at Tyler. "Uh. You... you are her comatose son?"

Tyler blinks. "Excuse me? I'm... what?"

"I don't know how it happened, exactly, but... your spirit is here, but your physical body is there?" James feels like his life's become a weird scifi TV show for a minute, wincing. "I know it sounds ridiculous, but you..." He sighs. "You had an accident in this apartment." He glances towards the kitchen, thinking again about the island where all of this had begun. "You suffered a serious head injury, and you never regained consciousness from it."

"I..." Tyler winces. "How... how long ago? How long ago was this accident?"

"Your mom said a couple years ago," James says.

"My mom," Tyler says, voice drifting off. "I... I still don't remember a lot. Things are... really... scattered? But I, I... things were so... empty for so long, but I remember... I think I heard her voice, and it... I woke up? And there you were?" He shakes his head. "The pasta..."

James blinks. "She did come by before, yeah. When I first moved in, she brought me a dish to welcome me to the building." He frowns at Tyler, remembering the first few times he'd seen him, before he was even talking. When he was a lot more transparent than he seems now. "You were really focused on it whenever I was eating it, I couldn't figure out why. It was your mom's cooking."

"Mom," he breathes out, an awed, pained look on his face. "Her pasta. It was... something she made me when I was a kid to cheer me up whenever I was having a bad day."

That explains a lot. James searches his face, before reaching into his pocket. "Tyler," he says quietly. When Tyler looks up, James holds the vial up to show him. "I talked to someone with experience in spiritual matters. She tells me you're bound to my apartment, but if I use this, I can free you and take you to your body."

Tyler stares into the vial, watching as the contents seem to shift constantly between a liquid form into dust and back again. "What is it?"

James' smile is a little grim, as he shrugs a shoulder. "Sometimes it's best not to ask." He stares at the vial for a few moments, then looks up at him. "All I know is that it's the easiest way to unbind you and get you back to your body. To your mom."

"Will it work?" Tyler looks from the vial to James, and exhales.

James nods. "I don't trust this particular coworker in many matters, but this I do. She had no reason to lie to me." He pops the cork on the vial and watches it shimmer as it sloshes around in the vial. "What do you think? Wanna try it?"

Tyler takes a minute, seeming to war with himself over something, before slowly nodding. "Yeah. I do."

James is not surprised but he still feels a little sad as he lifts the vial up. "Tyler," he says. "In case something goes wrong, I just... want to say that the time we've spent together has meant a lot to me."

Tyler stares at him, nodding. "It's meant a lot to me too," he says quietly, exhaling sharply when James nods back at him before tipping the vial, the liquid splashing over Tyler's hands and staining them black for a moment before fading into his skin.

Switching the angle of the vial, James pours the remainder over his own knuckles as best as he can and watches as it shifts into dust, clinging to his hand before too disappearing like it had over Tyler's skin. He blinks and flexes his fingers, not feeling very different before he looks up to find Tyler staring at him. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," he says, shaking his hands out. "I... that was weird."

"Yeah," James responds after a moment. "I think the only way to prove what happened is... well, for you to try to leave the apartment, I guess."

Tyler winces, then nods.

"Have you ever tried to before?"

"I don't think so," he says. "Not that I remember, anyway. I always... felt like there was something keeping me here, so I never bothered trying."

"Well, first time for everything," James sighs. "C'mon." He unlocks and opens the front door for Tyler and steps aside, watching as he gingerly takes one step, then another, before finding himself standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at the neighboring door across the hall.

"Oh."

"Yeah," James mumbles. "Oh." The vial's apparent success means that it's time now, James can't delay this any further. So he leads the way to Tyler's apartment and knocks, hoping it's not too early. When the door opens a minute later, he hears Tyler's strangled gasp next to him and wishes not for the first time that he could touch him, sooth him.

"Mom," he whispers.

James shifts and tries to smile. "Hi," he greets her. "Sorry to come by so early, but I... uh, I was out of town for a bit and figured I'd come see how you're doing. How Tyler's doing. If you, uh, need help with anything."

"Oh," she says, holding the door open a little further. "Thank you, no. My wrist is all healed now." She smiles and lifts it up, showing him how it's bracefree and fine once more. "Do you want to come in for a little bit? I was about to make breakfast."

"If you don't mind," James says, following her inside. Tyler stays close to his mother, a dazed look on his face as he stares desperately at her.

"You can peek in and say hi to Tyler if you want," she says. "I'll be in in a minute."

James exchanges glances with Tyler, who reluctantly steps away from her, and they approach the bedroom. "Don't panic," he tells Tyler quietly, pushing the door open and stepping in. He hears Tyler's breathing grow a little raspy as he catches sight of himself in the bed, pale, motionless. Hooked to various machines. Looking as close to death as one could imagine.

"Oh my god," he chokes. "I... this... this can't be happening."

"Tyler," James whispers. "We don't have a lot of time. You need to make a choice."

"I..." Tyler shakes his head, trying not to completely lose it. "I... what if I can't recover from this? What if I get back in there, and it..." He struggles, trembling, each prospect running through his mind more horrible than the last. "James, what do I do?"

"I can't decide for you," James tells him sadly. "But know that whatever happens, your parents will still be here for you. I'll still be here for you."

"I don't want to burden anyone," he says, gritting his teeth as he takes another look at himself. "Any more than I have already."

"You're not a burden," James tells him. "No matter what. Do you think she'd call you a burden? Ever?" He motions towards the door, and Tyler's eyes widen upon realizing what he means.

Tyler sniffs. Then nods, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Ok," he whispers. "I... I can't... I can't keep on like this, I guess... This limbo..." He looks at James. "Let's do this."

James nods, reaching over and lightly taking Tyler's physical hand in his, careful to press the fingers that still have the sensation of the concotion on them against his skin. "It'll be ok," he says to the spirit. "Do what feels naturally."

Tyler's spirit steps closer to the bed, resting his hand over James' and his own, staring down at them for long, tense seconds before he gasps, eyes growing wild, face twisting in pain. "James, I- I feel-" He shakes his head. "Something's- It-"

Before James can say or do anything, there's a sharp glow, and then the spirit is gone, leaving James alone, holding onto Tyler's hand tightly. He blinks and looks around the room, exhaling shakily. "Tyler?" He leans over the bed, examining Tyler's face, holding his breath, waiting, when finally he feels it. A brush of his fingers against James' palm. "Tyler, come on. Do you hear me?" There's a glint of light against Tyler's lids as he struggles to open his eyes and James exhales sharply, resting a hand on his shoulder, trying to sooth him, guide him fully into consciousness. "Hey. Hey. I'm right here. You're going to be ok."

For a minute, he fears that Tyler won't remember- won't recognize him, but before he can determine one way or another, there's a sound behind him and he turns to find Tyler's mom gaping at them from the door, Tyler shifting restlessly under his touch as he looks towards the door as well.

"Tyler?!" she cries out, dropping the coffee mug she'd been holding onto and rushing forward, James only just moving out of the way in time for her to round the bed and hover over her son with shaking hands. "Tyler?"

"M- mom," Tyler chokes out, reaching out with feeble hands towards her and she cries out his name, her arms wrapping around him, pressing him close, hugging him tight.

"Oh, Tyler, oh baby," she breathes into his hair, rocking him back and forth in her arms. "Oh my god. Oh my god."

"Mama," he murmurs, pressing against her in a weak attempt at hugging her back. "I- I'm sorry-"

"No, no," she gasps, parting from him enough to brush her fingers down his face, soothing him, brushing his tears away. "There's nothing for you to apologize for. Oh my baby, do you know how long I've waited to see those beautiful eyes again, huh?" She hugs him tightly again and he looks up from her shoulder, stares back at James, his eyes wet, tired.

James watches him, still unsure if he'll even remember- if- and then Tyler reaches out to him with a shaking hand and James instinctively meets him halfway, holding his hand tightly and a look crosses Tyler's face, one of relief and longing and the realization of what it feels like to finally touch James, to know what his skin feels like, the strength of his grip and how warm his hand is. James marvels at the change in his features at that one shared touch between them, overwhelmed.

Tyler exhales and sinks into his mother's warmth, a myriad of emotions vibrant on his face as he adjusts to being in a physical body again, surrounded by two of the most important people in his world. He looks up at James once more and mouths, "Thank you."

James smiles and squeezes his hand, almost breathless with relief that it's all worked out as well as it has.

-x

That night, James sleeps fitfully. The apartment feels strangely empty and depressing without Tyler's presence lurking around these walls, and he keeps waking up. Although he's ecstatic for him, it's still... different. He's never handled different well, not after the apartment fire, and not now. He's in the midst of tossing and turning again, trying to sink back into sleep, when he hears a knock at the door. His eyes snap open and he stares at the clock, startled to find it's almost 2:30 AM. Suddenly worried that something's wrong, that perhaps the concoction's power was only temporary, he scrambles to his feet and rushes to the door.

It's Mrs. Senerchia wringing her hands anxiously on his doorstep and his breath seizes deep in his chest as he pulls the door open. "What's wrong? is Tyler-?"

"He woke up scared, and I can't get through to him," she says, quickly grabbing at him. "He's having a panic attack, and he keeps asking for you. Please, James-"

He's out in the hall rushing past her before she even finishes speaking, relieved that her apartment door is open. "Tyler?" he calls, hearing the man's rough breathing before he even makes it into the bedroom.

"James," he gasps out, reaching out for him. "James-"

"It's ok, I'm here, I'm here," James murmurs, dropping down next to him and hugging him close. "It's ok, just breathe, Tyler. Just breathe. You're ok."

Tyler chokes and clings to him, head hanging low.

"Try to follow my breathing, Tyler," James urges him quietly, rubbing slow circles against his back. "In. Out." He tries to breathe as slowly as possible, ignoring the panic thrumming through his veins too as Tyler struggles. It feels like forever before Tyler begins to breathe in more steadily, some of the tension leaving him little by little. "There you go," James whispers, settling him back down against the pillows and holding his hands. "Are you ok?"

"I don't, I don't know," Tyler says, staring at James with desperate, wet eyes. "I woke up and I was alone, and it was dark, and you... I didn't know where you were, it felt like... maybe what happened before wasn't reality. I was... i was scared."

"It's ok," James soothes him. "You're ok. I'm here now." He senses Mrs. Senerchia behind him and knows she's probably going to have a million questions, but his main concern right now is Tyler, soothing away the fear in his eyes. "It's ok."

Tyler relaxes in his presence and slowly settles back down, sleep reclaiming him after awhile.

"We need to talk," Mrs. Senerchia tells him once they're both sure Tyler is going to stay asleep, a stern look on her face despite her visible exhaustion.

He nods and follows her into the living room, where she offers him a glass of water. He holds onto it quietly and watches her sit across from him.

She sits for a minute, staring into her glass, before finally looking up. "Explain your relationship to my son, please. You only moved in here three months ago, and he's been in a coma for three years, so there's no logical way for you two to be as close as you appear to be."

James weighs his options, finally deciding just to confess the truth to her. She sits quietly and listens as he explains moving in, finding Tyler's spirit there and assuming it was just a ghost. How the two of them slowly bonded, and then the fateful day she had come to James' door and needed his help.

"So you realized there was a chance that he could be saved," she says quietly. "And you figured out a way to get his soul back in his body." She stares at him, eyes wet. "You brought my son back to me."

He nods, feeling awkward under the weight of her grateful gaze. "I did, yes. I promise you, I have no intentions on hurting your son, ma'am. He's ... he's come to mean a lot to me through the last couple of months, and I just want to make sure that his recovery goes alright. I considered trying to explain this to you earlier, but I didn't want to drag you away from him when he'd just woke up and doctors were on the way."

"I understand," she says, squeezing her cup anxiously. "And I trust you. You... you've always been so much help with him." She smiles a little, shaking her head sadly "i, uh. I'm sorry I had to drag you out of bed, and instead of thanking you, began interrogating you like this. I just... was confused, you two seemed so... intimate with each other." She blows out a breath, looking back up at him. "But truly, thank you so much for helping him when I couldn't."

James nods. "He does need you, more than me. It's just he's spent the last few months trapped in my apartment, so it's what he remembers the clearest. He's comfortable with me right now. But he'll adjust."

"I know my son," she says with a smile. "I think you'll be surprised."

James blinks at her. "What?"

She just shakes her head, chuckling a little. "I'm sure you want to go back to bed," she says softly. "Do you want to look in on him one more time?"

"Yes," he decides, following her into the bedroom. Tyler is still fast asleep, and James rests a hand over his for a moment, not wanting to disrupt his rest, but just needing some reassurance that he's still in there, still warm and alive after everything he's been through.

Once he has it, James eases away from him and follows Mrs. Senerchia to the door, pausing for a moment. "Good night, ma'am," he says softly.

"Good night, James. We'll talk soon." She gives him another of her knowing smiles and shuts the door quietly as he heads back to his apartment, wondering about her.

-x

Her words stick with him when he flies out for the week's shows, and when he returns home, Taz is waiting for him at his apartment door, a strange look on his face. James takes one look at him and feels especially stupid. "You're Tyler's dad," he says, Taz huffing out a laugh before turning to face him.

"Figured it out, huh? My wife's been doin' nothing but talking about you for days," he says, crossing his arms over his chest and eyeing James. "Never even knew we've been neighbors the past few months."

"Me neither," James says after a moment. "I, uh. I guess we kept missing each other."

Taz shrugs. "Honestly, I ain't been at home often lately. I'm sure she told you about it." He looks away, a frown on his face.

James treads carefully, not wanting to get in the middle of their family issues or somehow succeed in making them worse. "She did mention you travel a lot. Now that I know who Peter is, it makes more sense."

Taz huffs, rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, don't advertise it to the whole world or nothin'. Don't need that catching on around the locker room." He does relax a little bit, though, turning his stare back onto James. "So my son..." He exhales. "He was really trapped in your apartment the whole time he was comatose?"

"I don't think he remembers all of it, by what he's told me," James says. "But yeah. Don't ask me what happened, just... he suffered that head injury, and his body moved, but his spirit remained behind."

Taz nods, rocks back and forth a little bit before straightening up. "How'd you figure it out? To get him back in his body?"

"Julia Hart," James says.

"Huh," Taz says. "Probably going to come at a pretty steep price, y'know."

"It'll be worth it, whatever it is," James says, leaving no room for argument.

Taz stares at him, a moment of understanding passing between them. "We owe ya," he says. "Thank you." Holds his hand out and James shuffles close enough to shake it, the two of them separating after a moment. "Guess we'll be seein' more of you around then."

"Mrs. Senerchia seems to think so," James says. "I don't know."

"Eh." Taz glances down the hall at his apartment before turning back towards James, lips twitching into a smirk. "Wife's always right." He shrugs. "Gotta go check in, be seeing you around, Orange."

James watches him go, mumbling, "See you," before entering his apartment and leaning against the door as he pushes it shut behind him. Sighing, he faces his quiet, empty, dark apartment and rests his head back against the solid wood, closing his eyes. It's selfish as hell, but damn does he miss coming home to Tyler's spirit right about now, his small smile being the first thing James sees walking in something he'd grown overly used to.
-x

Another week's worth of travel comes and goes, and James finds himself eye to eye with Julia Hart backstage before Collision, her dark gaze searching his face.

"It worked," he finally says, guessing that that's what she's waiting for. "The spirit reunited with its body, and the person woke up."

"I see," Julia says, still staring at him. "And yet you are still miserable. Distancing yourself from him, hm?"

He falls silent, unsure how she figures these things out without a word spoken. It's weird, even for him, even for this business so he looks away, not wanting to give her more ammunition.

She sighs. "So tiresome," she says, before turning and disappearing into the shadows.

He frowns after her before turning and heading in the opposite direction, not wanting to encourage anything else from her.

He spends the entire show lost in thought about it, which means his tendency to slump back with sunglasses on works to his benefit because no one knows there's something going on, that his thoughts are going in circles about what he should do about Tyler when he gets back home. They haven't seen each other since the night he'd had a panic attack, and James hopes it's a good sign that his mom hadn't had to come to James for help with him, but he... he misses him. And he worries, even though he knows Tyler's parents are taking good care of him.

He wavers on going to see him or not, but the choice gets taken from him when he walks towards his apartment that Friday and freezes a few doors down, finding Tyler sitting in front of it in a chair, waiting. He flushes as Tyler looks up at him, fumbling with his keys for a moment before he forces himself to walk forward, resting a hand on Tyler's back. "Hey," he says quietly. "What are you doing out here?"

"Waiting for you," Tyler says with a huff that makes James smile a little. "Mom refused to let me just stand, said I needed the chair or she wouldn't let me out of the apartment, so here I am."

"Here you are," James echoes. "Am I supposed to carry you inside, or-?"

Tyler rolls his eyes. "I can walk that far," he mumbles, standing up and following James inside. Once he's sure Tyler is steady on the couch, James ducks back out long enough to bring the chair inside so no one would trip over it- or steal it. "You've been avoiding me," Tyler says once the door clicks shut behind him.

James wants to deny this, but he knows he can't, not easily anyway. "Tyler," he sighs.

"No, look, I get it," he says. "Especially after the... the panic attack thing." He looks away, stares down at his hands. "I, uh. You figured out a way to get me back to my body, you have no obligation to me anymore, I know. I get it. I don't want to intrude on your life or anything, but I..." He digs his hands into his hair, tugging in a way that almost looks painful, eyes darting everywhere but towards James. "I just wanted closure, I guess."

The sick feeling in the pit of James' stomach gets coated over in ice and he lurches forward, gripping Tyler's hands. "No," he says, such a strangled sound forced out of his throat that it startles Tyler as much as it startles himself. "No, no. I don't- don't want closure, this isn't..." He struggles. The words just do not want to come easily. Hell, they don't want to come at all. "You're not an intrusion. You're not an obligation!" Tyler's eyes widen as James shakes his head with more passion than he usually ever shows. "God, I never wanted to make you feel like any of that. I want you here, I just... I didn't want to derail you reclaiming your life after three years in a coma. I didn't want you to look back on our time together with bitterness and regret because you talked yourself into something that in the long run wasn't good for you because you haven't had the time to experience new things and new people after waking up. I didn't... I didn't want..."

Some of the tension has eased out of Tyler's face, but he's still frowning, still searching James' face. "Hey," he says. "You really think I could look at anything to do with you and regret it? Or hate it?" He tugs at James' hands, using his proximity against him to pull him closer. "You... you were the only thing that kept me at all connected to reality during those months. Do you remember when I said everything felt so far away? Kind of faded?"

"Yeah," James says quietly.

"I heard my mom's voice and it pulled me back to the surface, but it was you that kept me there," Tyler says, searching James' face. "I had to fight just to remember how to speak again, but I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to tell you who I was. From there, it got easier little by little. To find myself, to remember things. I... I wouldn't have made it this far without you." He shifts anxiously. "I think I was close to fading away completely, I remember nothing for so long until you arrived. Anyone else probably would've ignored me or tried to get me out of their apartment, but you... you accepted me? You seemed to like me? It made the difference. I wanted to stay. I fought to."

James blinks at him, shivering a little at the thought of how close he'd come to never meeting Tyler, to never experiencing any of this. He exhales shakily, stroking his thumbs over Tyler's knuckles, mind racing. "Ok," he says. "Ok."

"Please stop avoiding me," Tyler says, vulnerable in a way he hasn't shown often. "I'm not saying you have to spend all of your free time with me, but maybe just... come say hi sometimes?"

James swallows, nods. "Yeah, ok," he says. "How about this?" He shifts and grabs the remote. "Wanna watch something? Until your mom comes around trying to figure out where you and her chair have disappeared to anyway?"

Tyler's eyes light up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm sure we can find something horrible to make fun of. Like we used to."

"I'd like that," Tyler whispers.

James smiles, switching through channels before something dawns on him and he looks over, eyeing the distance between them. "Hey, you know what?"

"What?"

James reaches over and wraps an arm around Tyler, drawing him closer. "We can actually do this now," he says. "If you want."

Tyler freezes for a moment, then exhales, realization dawning on him. "Oh," he says. "You're right, we can." He grins sheepishly and rests his head on James' shoulder. "I definitely want."

"Great," James murmurs, rubbing circles against Tyler's side as he continues searching the menu for something to watch. If he thought focusing was hard before, it's nearly impossible now while he's so in awe at feeling Tyler's warmth pressed against him, his hair tickling James' throat.

-x

A couple weeks pass before James' schedule works out, but as soon as he gets a full weekend free, he walks over to the Senerchia apartment and only hesitates a little upon being greeted by Taz, most of his conversations about Tyler being held with his wife up to now. "Uh, hey," he says awkwardly.

"Hey, Orange." Taz smirks. "Told you, didn't I?" James blinks in confusion and Taz scoffs a laugh. "Wife's always right."

James relaxes a little. "Right, you did," he says, before clearing his throat. "Is Tyler...?"

"He had an appointment with his rehab specialist," Taz says. "Flight didn't land in time for me to go with, so they're there, but they'll be back soon." He eyes James. "What finds you here?"

"Uh, I have a suggestion," James says slowly. "If it's alright with you, and- and Mrs. Senerchia, and Tyler too of course."

"Oh, boy," Taz mumbles dryly, motioning him in. "Can't wait to hear this one."

Oddly enough, the sarcasm relaxes something deep inside of James, well aware that that's how you know Taz is comfortable with you, accepts your presence in his tight knit world. Only this helps him to find the strength to follow Taz in to wait for Tyler and his mom. To explain his idea to them all a little later, watching as they all exchange glances, Taz and his wife's lingering a little longer in silent communication. When he and Tyler manage to convince them both with thankfully no bloodshed, James exhales in relief and shares a smile with Tyler.

-x

"You're really ok with me being here the whole weekend?" Tyler asks, blinking at James from where he's leaning against the pillows James had stacked up against the headboard for him.

"Of course I am, I invited you over, right?" James asks, sitting down next to Tyler.

He exhales. "I know," he mumbles. "I just feel like ... it's asking too much sometimes. Um. I'm still pretty... weak. I don't want to annoy you with how useless I am. It's hard enough with my parents." He picks anxiously at the blanket that James tucks around him.

"Tyler, none of us feel like that about you," James tells him. "You've woke up from a coma after three years, we all know it's going to take time for you to recover fully. And just so you know, your parents and I, we're all happy to spend time with you. Help you reclaim your life, anyway we can."

Tyler sniffs a little, brushing at his nose with a shaking hand. "I don't deserve any of you," he mumbles.

James shakes his head, reaching out and squeezing Tyler's hands. "Yeah, you do," he says kindly. "We, uh." He looks away quickly. "We love you. It's no burden to us to take care of you. I promise you, if you asked either of your parents right now, they'd say the same thing I am."

Tyler flushes and looks up at him, exhaling. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." James smiles at him, reaching over to brush some of his hair out of his eyes. "Now will you let me take care of you this weekend? Hm?"

Tyler nods, unable to look away from James. "Yeah," he breathes. "Yeah, you can... you can take care of me."

James nods, stroking his fingers lazily down Tyler's forearm.

Tyler exhales shakily and watches James' fingers against his skin. "When you said," he breathes out. "When you said you all love me..." His eyes shift to the side, his flush darkening, spreading further. "Do you mean you, uh, love me the same way my parents do, or..."

James chuckles a little and shakes his head. "Digging for clarification, huh? Well, I can tell you... My feelings are definitely not the same as your parents, no." He searches Tyler's face. "How does that make you feel?"

"Relieved," he says with a weak laugh. "I, uh. I still wonder what exactly that means for us, though?"

"It means I'm not going to push you," James says quietly. "You've been through a lot, and you need time to re-adjust to everything. But just want to let you know that if this is something you decide you really want, I'll be patient and wait for you because I know that you're worth it."

Tyler gapes at him, in awe, his eyes welling with tears. "Really?"

"Yeah," James says quietly. "Of course. Hey, hey." He reaches over and brushes the tears off of Tyler's cheeks. "Didn't mean to make you cry."

Tyler sniffs and presses into James' touch. "I'm ok," he exhales. "Just wasn't expecting all of that. I, I guess things are still pretty overwhelming sometimes."

James smiles at him, shaking his head with a soft laugh. "You know how empty this place felt when you were gone?" He sighs. "It felt stupid, you were just two doors down the hall, but I... I missed having you to come home to, I guess."

Tyler stares at him, eyes hooded. "I miss you too," he says. "When I wake up alone, I'm... still kind of disoriented, looking for you. It... I..." He sighs. "It doesn't happen as often, but sometimes, although at least I don't have as many panic attacks anymore."

"Tyler," James murmurs, aching for him. "You know if you ever need me, I'm just down the hall. Or a phone call away." They stare at each other for a long moment, and James closes his eyes, grimacing at himself, his own lack of self-control. "Tyler, would you..." He sighs. "Would you mind if I... if I kissed you?"

Tyler's eyes darken, suddenly intense, heated in a way James hasn't ever seen them before. "Please," Tyler breathes.

"I might not be able to stop at just one," James warms with a sheepish smile, already finding it difficult to stop touching him, his fingers still cradling Tyler's jaw.

"That's ok," Tyler whispers. "It's ok. I want it."

James huffs, pressing his forehead to Tyler's and just breathing him in for a minute before pressing a kiss to Tyler's lips, holding on as Tyler kisses back, supporting him against the pillows with an arm around his back. "I've got you," he breathes as Tyler digs his fingers into James' shirt, trembling. "I've got you."

"James," Tyler murmurs, eyes fluttering. "James."

James hums, licking into Tyler's mouth, tasting him eagerly as he eases a hand under the blanket, beneath Tyler's hoodie, touching his skin. Tyler shivers and James groans. "You're so warm," he breathes, trailing his fingers higher up Tyler's ribs, resting against his sternum.

"I-..." Tyler sighs, reluctantly breaking the kiss. "I'm not... I'm so thin, I wasn't... I was better than this before. Before the coma. I don't even recognize myself right now."

James shakes his head, eyes warm as he looks down at where his hand is touching, stroking. Soothing. "No," he whispers. "I admit I didn't know you before, but you... you're perfect, as you are. Right now." He smiles at him. "You know, I wished a lot when you were a spirit that I could touch you." He hesitates, clears his throat, almost overwhelmed by emotion. "I, uh. You always looked so sad, I wanted to just comfort you, hold you. Being able to now, it means... it means a lot to me."

Tyler exhales, staring up at him. "Could you? Just- just hold me, I mean?"

"Of course," James says immediately. Then pauses, glancing around the bed before looking back at Tyler. "How do you like to lay when you sleep?"

"Uh," Tyler blinks. "I... On my side?"

James nods, moving over to give him space. "Well, get comfortable. If you need help moving, I can..."

Tyler slowly shifts, adjusting himself until he rolls over, movements still a little uncoordinated, stiff. James braces him, helps him to get settled. "Thanks," he murmurs, exhaling slowly as he eases down into the pillows.

James hums, then presses against Tyler, spooning him close. "Is this ok?" he asks, wrapping one arm around Tyler's waist, lacing their fingers together as he holds him.

Tyler blinks sleepily. "It's perfect," he mumbles, snuggling back into James' steady warmth. "You feel so good."

"So do you," James says with a smile, pressing a kiss to the back of Tyler's neck. "Now go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Tyler nods sluggishly, then tugs lightly at James' fingers. "I love you."

James smiles. "I love you too," he whispers, stroking Tyler's knuckles until he feels him drift into sleep. After being in the wrestling business for so long, not a lot in James' life feels all that novel anymore, but there's something about laying here, listening to Tyler breathe, watching him sleep peacefully in his arms that leaves him unable to look away, taking in every minute detail of Tyler's face, how comfortable and at peace he looks, his lips parted just a little, hair casting light shadows down his forehead.

Spending weeks not being able to touch or really interact with Tyler the way James had wanted to had taken its toll. Getting to lay here next to Tyler and feel his warmth, the rise and fall of his back against James' chest as he breathes steadily, and slowly fall asleep next to him means more to James than he ever could've expected.

-x

Nine months later

Tyler gets out of the car and inhales deeply, looking up at the building before him with a frown. He turns his head when the driver's side door opens and says, "You really don't mind coming along for this, do you?"

James adjusts his sunglasses and leans against the car, looking over the top of it at Tyler. "No, I told you, it was fine."

Tyler nods slowly. "Just, uh. You know, I know you're really busy and could probably find a hundred better things to do on your day off-" His words die away when James rounds the car and squeezes his hand. "Uh."

"I'm here because I want to be here," he tells him. "Please stop thinking it's some big imposition on my time or something. It's not. Besides, I told you I'd reward you somehow once your rehab specialist cleared you to start wrestling training. A new tattoo is the least I can do."

Tyler nods, squeezing back. "Thank you," he says sheepishly. "I... uh. You know, this isn't my first tattoo and I ordinarily would have done this alone, but..." He runs his free hand through his hair, shrugging. "I... I'm not sure how my pain tolerance is going to be, after everything, and I appreciate you being here. Just in case."

James nods and leans in, kissing him in an attempt to sooth his nerves, distract him. "Do you know what you're going to get?"

Tyler's responding grin is a little mischievous. "I actually do," he says, before turning and leading the way into the tattoo parlor. James wanders around the room while Tyler and the artist discuss ideas, so it's a surprise when Tyler is in the chair, James by his side but carefully out of the way of the artist as she begins to line in the tattoos.

"I thought you were only going to get one?" James asks, trying to sneak a peek at his upper arm.

"Decided on two after all," Tyler says, his hand held loosely in James'. So far, the pain hasn't been enough for him to squeeze, but the option is there if he needs it.

"I, uh. Not to make it worse, but I thought the wrist was a bad place to get a tattoo," James says. "Pain wise."

"Kind of." Tyler squints at the ceiling. "But it's also the most discreet area too. Since it'll be taped up a lot for wrestling."

There are other areas James can think of, probably, but he keeps it to himself. "I see," he says, finally getting a glimpse of the tattoo on Tyler's upper arm. MOM. He smiles a little, squeezing Tyler's fingers.

"You're lucky they're small so I can do both today," the artists says, moving down to Tyler's wrist.

"Yeah," he breathes out, some of the tension ratcheting up as she begins to work. James holds his hand steadily, trying to calm him as he breathes in and out deeply, eyes roving over the ceiling. "Damn," he mutters after a couple of minutes, squeezing James' hand.

"Doing ok?" the artist asks after a minute.

"Yeah," Tyler manages, gaze still locked on the tiles above them. He squints harder, fingers beginning to dig into James' palm a little deeper.

"Line art's almost done, then I'll color it in," the artist says after a few minutes.

James finally gets a glimpse but can't figure it out at first until she brings out the colored ink, and then it clicks. "Tyler," he says, somewhere between amused and touched. "What-?"

"You and Mom were there for me the most while I recovered," he says. "So a tattoo for both of you. Kind of... a way to keep you both close when I begin wrestling."

"Nothing for Taz? I'm surprised," James says.

"A tattoo wouldn't have the same meaning for him," Tyler mumbles. "Besides, I chose my wrestling name and finisher in honor of him. It's enough."

James hums in acceptance, watching as the small orange on Tyler's wrist slowly gets colored in, orange fruit surrounded by small green leaves looping up in a cut off vine. "You're ridiculous," he says fondly, leaning in to kiss Tyler once the artist proclaims it all finished and steps aside to collect some wrap to keep it safe while it heals.

"And you enjoy it," he says, taking a minute to examine the work before it's out of sight.

"I do," James admits softly. "I really do."

They smile at each other and Tyler gives James' hand one last squeeze while the tattoo artist finishes up.

Once they're back outside, Tyler leans against the car and looks over at James. "Hey. Uh, my dad scheduled a wrestling training thing at the end of the month. It's probably going to be my first time back in the ring since everything. We're not going to do much, just simple stuff. Get me back in the flow of things a little." His eyes dart around, anxious, as he runs his hand through his hair, tugging at it a little. "Do you think you'd wanna come? If you're free?"

James examines Tyler. Reflects on how far he's come since they first met- a spirit absent from his own body, waking up after years in a coma scared and weak, just to so quickly regain enough of himself to be here less than a year later, getting a tattoo and talking about plans to get back in the ring. James' teeth flash as he grins and cradles Tyler's face, pleased at the hope and life he sees in the eyes that had once been so damn sad that James could barely take looking into them for too long. "Yeah," he says. "I'll be there. Get to see you kick some ass in the ring, finally? Wouldn't miss it."

Tyler flushes under James' gaze, looking sheepish but happy. "Ok," he says, leaning into James as he kisses him. "Looking forward to it."

"Me too," James whispers against his lips before pulling away reluctantly. "C'mon, let's go home."

Tyler chuckles knowingly. "Yeah, ok," he says, nudging James lightly when he holds the car door open for him. "Gentleman."

"Always," he chuckles before rounding the car and slipping into the driver's side.

He glances over to find Tyler staring at him, grinning widely, and winks at him before pulling out of the parking lot.