The keynotes speaker, the head of the school of nursing, is last to leave; sees Credence standing there in his lab coat and patch, gently asks if he needs a ride. That’s when Credence gives up and decides it’s time to go home.

He takes the subway home, wondering the whole time how this happened. Percy is organized to the point of actual paranoia and Gellert never misses an opportunity to brag about him (and embarrass him) in public. How could they have forgotten? He looks down at the patch on his shoulder and he’s morbidly thankful for the New Yorker tendency to ignore anything that’s not your own personal business, because it means no one on the subway cares that he’s crying his eyes out. 

He remembers the day he came home with a flawless report card, must’ve been in fifth grade, and his mother burned it, telling him don’t take so much pride in worldly accomplishments. Is that, he wonders now, what they’re trying to tell him? Is this Gellert and Percy’s way of reminding him you’re not special, we’re done babying you, hundreds of thousands of kids your age go to nursing school, we’re not going to throw you a damn parade? He cries, hard but nearly silent, and soaks the sleeve of his lab coat drying his tears as he gets off the subway and walks the last few blocks to their apartment.

He gets home and finds that the lights are all off, save the tiny one over the stove in the kitchen...which is a mess, with dishes piled high in the sink, flour and sugar dusted over the counter, milk spilled on the floor. Credence’s heart melts when he sees the cake on the counter: two square tiers, frosted in NYU’s signature purple and white, a border of little sugar stethoscopes and red crosses surrounding the words Congratulations, Credence! written in Percy’s flawless cursive. He doesn’t have to smell or taste it to know it’s his favorite flavor, strawberry lemonade.

Disappointment turns to worry. They didn’t forget. Something is wrong, then, and Credence has a pretty good idea of what it is. He runs to the bedroom and finds the lights mostly off here, too. Gellert looks up when he enters the room. There’s a bundle of blankets lying beside him with its head in his lap. Gellert is slowly, gently stroking said blanket bundle and Credence doesn’t have to ask, but Gellert tells him anyway: “I’m so sorry, mein schatz. It was a really bad one this time...”

Credence doesn’t waste a minute. He shucks his lab coat, drops his bag to the floor and crawls up onto the bed on the other side of the blanket bundle and carefully rests a hand on the trembling back of it. "I’m here, Percy,” he says softly. “I’m right here. It’s okay. We’re all safe.”

The blanket-bundle only shakes harder, and Gellert joins in. “We’re both here now, whenever you’re ready to come out,” he tells Percy soothingly. It takes perhaps another half hour of gentle reassurance before Percy emerges from the blanket-bundle with red swollen eyes, and Credence feels his heart break all over again.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Percy says to him, followed by, “I made you a cake?” As if Credence requires an offering in order to grant benediction.

Credence lies down beside Percy, slides one arm under his neck and wraps the other around his waist, drawing him in close. “I saw the cake,” he says as he strokes Percy’s hair. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

Percy relaxes against him, hearing the unspoken I understand, I still love you in his words. On his other side Gellert lies down too, and wraps one arm around them both. He mouths flashback at Credence; Credence had long worked that out but he acknowledges it with a tiny nod.

“I’m sorry,” Percy says again, and his shoulders shake as he repeats, sounding as if someone is choking him, “I’m so fucking sorry, I lost time, I don’t know what happened. You must be so furious with me, sweetheart, I’m so--”

“Sh-h-h. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Credence holds him close, tucks Percy’s head under his chin; nothing soothes Percy more during a panic attack than being able to hear the sound of his husbands’ heartbeats. “You’re safe,” he tells Percy softly. Gellert snuggles up behind him, letting Percy feel that he is surrounded on all sides by people who would do anything for him. “Half the families didn’t even come,” he lies. “It wasn’t that big a deal. It’s not like graduation or anything.”

Gellert’s eyes meet his and Credence knows that Gellert, at least, knows he’s lying. But it doesn’t matter. Percy seems to take comfort in it, and that’s all he cares about. He knows Percy will want to make it up to him. Credence will let him. They’ll celebrate tomorrow, and any remaining traces of disappointment will be swept away like cake crumbs off the coffee table. But right now this isn’t about him, Credence thinks. Right now, Percy needs him.

Percy drifts to sleep in his arms and Gellert waits until then to ask him in a whisper, “Are you all right? Do we need to talk?” Credence shakes his head. The hurt has long disappeared. He knows they would have been there if they could. Percy can’t control what triggers his panic attacks or flashbacks any more than Credence can control what sets off his own anxiety, and he doesn’t break down like this very often. Something happened, and they’ll need to talk about that later, but right now all he cares about is that Percy is asleep, breathing slow and deep and even, and now Gellert is smiling at him, the pride shining through his eyes visible even in the dim light.