Carlos jolts awake with panic clawing at his throat. He stares at TK beside him for a long second until he is certain he can make out the gentle rise and fall of his chest in the dark room. It was the third time this happened in as many days.
After TK was shot, Carlos was so worried that he didn't have room for guilt. For the I should have and the if only I had just. Then TK was kidnapped and held at gunpoint and afterwards when he was safe in Carlo's arms, he couldn't think of anything other than what if Captain Strand and I were just a minute too late?
For the fire, it was his fault they didn't have an extinguisher in the bedroom. He was the one who told TK to ignore the alarm and go up to bed. They could have died - they almost did and it was all his fault.
Sure, TK was injury-prone. But Carlos was handling it. He was taking deep calming breaths whenever the panic and guilt started to creep up on him. He reminded himself TK was safe and that everything would be ok.
That was before the ice storm. Before the almost plane crash. Before he started waking up in the middle of the night unable to suck in a full breath of air until he laid eyes on TK beside him. He'd given up even trying to sleep when TK was on a 24 shift.
He knows he can't keep going on like this. He's never loved anyone the way he loves TK. He's never been so scared to lose someone. He'd take getting his heart broken a thousand times over TK ever getting hurt again.
Just the thought of it has him starting to spiral. He knows his breath coming in too quick, heart pounding so hard and fast it feels like it'll rip through his chest -
TK rolls over and drapes an arm over him, head nuzzling in to the nook of his neck.
The words press like featherlight kisses to his skin. Searing straight through to his heart more deeply than a brand ever could.
His pulse begins to slow, eyes drooping as he pulls TK impossibly close.
"We're okay," he says, begging himself to believe it.
