#franjo

Franco had fallen asleep soon after Dare had left his room. He must have been out got about two hours when the nightmare started and he jolted himself awake, "Fuck" he shouted out, "Every freaking time". He took a deep breath through gritted teeth, "Cujo" he asked, not sure where the man was, ready to spill his confession.

Cujo didn't know how much sleep he has been getting, and it wasn't like he wanted to sleep. He couldn't. Not with Franco needing him by his side. He can't leave him. Never again. But he found himself dozing off and snapping at nurses, so he had to get up and grab something to drink from the vending machine at the lobby. With a can of Red Bull in hand, he walked back to Franco's room, where he found him awake, most likely from a bad dream. "Hey," he frowned, closing the door behind him. "I'm here."

Franco relaxed instantly when hearing Cujos voice. He nodded, “Where did you go” he asked. He hated the idea of being alone. People could come in. He knew Dare had put security around but he still got scared. He looked at the chair next to the bed and sighed, “I need to talk to you about some things” he sighed, “Please sit down”.

"I went to grab something to drink," Cujo mumbled, cracking the lid open and taking a sip before walking over to his seat beside Franco's bed and sitting down, looking at the other with a confused expression. "What is it?"

Franco nodded and sighed, “I’m sick of water but apparently I’ll struggle with anything else”. He took a deep breath and shook his head, “I spoke to Dare last night about something and I wanted to bring it up to you”. He sighed again  and closed his eyes, “I don’t wanna tell you if you will run away”.

"Water's good for you. Which is a little hypocritical of me," he gestures to his drink with a small grin, the smile fading away upon hearing the slight urgency in Franco's voice. "What is it?" He asked, setting his can down. "I'm not running away, man. I'm here."

Franco looked over at the water and shook his head, "It can wait. Don't feel strong enough to get it right now any way". He looked down at the bed and gulped, "I love you Cujo" he said simply, "Not platonic friend love either. Not bro love. Like, love love". He shook his head, "Dare could tell".

Cujo sat there, frozen in shock. He was a little glad he had placed his drink on the nightstand -- if he hadn't, he would've spilled it all over the hospital bed. "You-" he shook his head, a whirlwind of questions swamping his mind. "You're high on meds. You don't know what you're saying."

Franco shook his head, "Cujo, I haven't been accepting pain meds from anyone whilst I've been awake so we know that's not true". He paused, looking up at Cujo, "How else do you explain only being able to sleep when you hold my hand, freaking out whenever you leave a room and being dead terrified you'll leave and not come back". He bit his lip, wincing at the pain, "Why would I tell you this when I'm this battered if I didn't mean it. I want you to be my boyfriend".

"That you trust me," Cujo answered, voice lowering to a whisper. His eyes wander around the room helplessly, before flitting back to meet Franco's gaze, searching for something -- anything, that could convey Franco's usual playfulness. He must be joking. He's joking... Right? There's nothing lovable about Cujo -- he was a ticking time bomb, with a ton of emotional baggage and jesus Franco deserved better. "You -- you wouldn't want that."

"Its got nothing to do with trust" he whispered out through a clenched jaw. He shook his head, "Why do you assume that you aren't capable of being loved? I've just been beaten and drugged within an inch of my life and I'm still sat here begging you to see that I love you and I need you and I can't do this without you".

"Because I'm not worth the effort, Franco," Cujo snapped, "The only stable relationship I've had was with Marley, and that didn't even last two whole months. I'm violent, an asshole, emotionally constipated, and my dad-" he quickly cuts himself off, eyes widening at his almost slip-up, before slumping against his seat, defeated. "I'm -- I don't know. You're fucking amazing, while I'm just..." He gestured lamely. "There."

"You are worth every effort Cujo" he breathed, tears stinging his eyes again, "I don't care about any of that Cujo. I loved you for at least two years and I've stuck by your side, violent or not". Tears had started to fall by this point as he continued, "Fuck whatever your dad did. I don't fucking care. I'm not amazing. Amazing doesn't get kidnapped and nearly die. Amazing doesn't depend on you to sit and hold my hand so I don't cry. Amazing isn't sat in an hospital bed sobbing....amazing is sat in the chair opposite holding my hand and telling me it'll be ok".

Cujo could feel his heart pounding heavily against his chest, and he slowly takes Franco's hand in his, gently squeezing it. Cujo doesn't deserve Franco. Franco deserves someone complete, someone who will give him his well-earned happiness. Someone who wouldn't tie him down, someone who doesn't get physically abused by their own family, someone who isn't burdened by the skeletons in their closet. Cujo's jaw tenses, as he silently weighed the pros and cons. Franco needed him. He can't lose Franco, not again. "Okay," he breathes out. "Okay."

Watching and waiting for Cujo to talk tightened Franco's chest and made breathing with his fucked up lungs even harder. He squeezed Cujos hand, the strongest squeeze he'd given since he'd woken up, "You know I wouldn't have even tried if it wasn't for you" he whispered, not even sure at this point what okay meant, "Everyday I was gone... I fought for you. I can't do this without you. I won't take my pain meds cause you haven't told me it's safe. I need you Cujo".

Franco's words, sincere as they were, left a cold, sinking feeling in his stomach. This proved even further that Franco deserved better. He stayed silent as he listened to Franco, the frantic beating of his heart ringing louder and louder in his ears. "I'm a handful," he laughs out, wanting to keep the atmosphere light. "You sure you can handle this?"

Franco nodded, "Handle what. You can't tell me you have emotional baggage and issues when I'm sat here unable to feed and drink myself". He gulped, "You can't tell me I'm going to be easy to deal with when I'm gonna depend on you. Whatever they put in me isn't even out of my system yet, you think you can handle me?".

"That's temporary." He waved a hand nonchalantly. "We've been through worse shit together, something like this won't faze me. I'm here. For you. I know I've said this a hundred times already, but I'm not going anywhere." I can't afford to lose you again. "You're... Really fucking important to me, Franco."

Franco nodded, "Temporary maybe but still going to be a lot to cope with". He looked down at the bed, "I don't want too only hold your hand when I'm trying to sleep or waking up from a shitty nightmare. I wanna hold your hand just cause I can".

"I've told you, I've handled worse." Fighting back a grin, Cujo squeezes Franco's hand again, "You're already holding my hand, babe. And it's not like shit's stopped you from holding my hand before."

Franco felt the squeeze and it was like his heart had been squeezed to. Did this mean they were... His face, a mass of bruises and pain now washed with confusion, "Is... Is that a yes?" He asked, tears still running down his cheeks.

"Stop fucking crying, you ass." Cujo nods with a laugh, "Yeah, fuck. It's a yes. You have no idea how much I want to kiss you right now."

Franco shook his head, "How can I stop crying when you said yes". He looked up and nodded, "Pain ain't gonna change and I really want you to kiss me too, please".

Leaning in, Cujo presses his lips against Franco's, slow and careful. "You're going to get better, okay? I'll be here through and through. It'll take a long damn while but fuck that." He says after pulling away.

The kiss hurt but it felt so good. He'd waited for this day for the longest time, dreamed it over and over. When Cujo pulled back he sighed, "Yeah, I'm going to get better. It's gonna be painful but I I'm gonna really try. Fuck, I love you Cujo".

"Love you too," Cujo's heart was fluttering, something that he hadn't felt in a while and he really couldn't help the grin that slowly made its way across his face. He sits back against his chair, but he doesn't let go of Franco's hand. "You should rest more."