Heart - 28. Epilogue

"Vladimir isn't an easy name to spell. I understand, trust me! We've been together for fourteen years! But you need to explain this to me! I wrote the message down for you when I placed the order and you somehow fucked it up. How? You had one job - one job! - and that was to copy "Happy Birthday Vladimir" onto a cake with a piping bag from the note I placed directly onto the order! In what universe is that a mistake someone can make? You're a special kind of useless, Sandra-Anne!"

"Alright, give me that! You've lost your phone privileges!" Masha snatched Tyson's smartphone right from his hand with a scowl that could turn him to stone. "I'm very sorry about that, Sandra-Anne! Shoo! I'll deal with you later!" She flicked her hand at him and he recoiled.

Tyson's eyes fell to the floor as his rage simmered down. Even now that he was twenty-eight, Masha was prone to treating him like a spoiled brat. Which, he supposed now that he was thinking clearly, was letting the punishment fit the crime. Chloe's tiny black face caught his eye, poking out from behind the door, and Tyson's heart stopped beating. He promised Vladimir that he would spare their adopted daughter his guttermouth and his hot temper. It was much easier when his husband was with him - calm and patient and sweet and funny! But with Vladimir in the hospital once more, Tyson's self-discipline seemed to take a hit as well.

"Hey, gorgeous girl. How are you? Is everything okay?" Tyson asked her in flawless, fluent Russian as he picked her up and rested her on his hip.

"Yes. Are you angry at someone?" Chloe asked him cautiously.

"I was," he admitted, gently rocking her. She was getting big, and Vladimir didn't like him to pick her up too much, but she got no attention from her birth parents at all. Knowing exactly what that was like, he couldn't resist indulging her. "But Babushka reminded me I was being silly. Are you excited to see Papochka again?"

"Yes! Is he coming home?"

Tyson's grin faded, and he was unable to hide his sorrow. "No, baby girl. It's just for today, but he'll be home for good when he's feeling better, okay?"

"Why doesn't he want to stay?" Little Chloe whined. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Of course you didn't! No, he's just sick at the moment, so he can't stay for too long until he's better. Papochka's brain, well, sometimes it doesn't work properly. That's why he was talking to people that we couldn't see. So, every now and then, Papochka needs to spend some time at the hospital. But you know what makes him happier than anything else in the entire world? You! So why don't we give him the best birthday ever and tell him how much we love him?"

Chloe's gleeful giggle was enough reassurance that his gentle explanation of Vladimir's psychotic break had not scared her in any way. Five-year-old Chloe still adored him, heart and soul, and always had since she joined the family just shy of two years old. She loved Papochka more than Daddy, but Tyson didn't mind. Had it been anyone else, he might have been insulted, but this was Vladimir! The most amazing man in the entire world! Nay, the universe!

"You can have this back when you're ready to call Sandra-Anne and apologise for the way you spoke to her!" Masha playfully held out the phone to her hangdog son-in-law, who took it with a guilty smile, and her face wrinkled in delight when Chloe reached out to her. "Hello, mouseling! Don't you look precious!"

Like Tyson, she could never restrain herself and coddled her granddaughter incessantly when her second son wasn't looking, and she took little Chloe into her arms and showered her in kisses.

"Go back to your guests! Dmitry and Marilyn will be here with Vlad any minute!" Masha chided him, licking her index finger and trying to tame his hair the best she could, drawing a fond smile from him.

"I love you, Mama," Tyson, now that he was several inches taller than her, had to lean down to kiss her on her wrinkling cheek.

"Aww, my special boy! You're one of the five best decisions I ever made!" She gripped his chin between her thumb and fingers. "I love you too, my star."

There were twenty-seven guests, by Tyson's counting! A small, intimate affair - by Tchaikovsky standards, at least - so as not to overwhelm Vladimir on his day release. Family and friends the pair had collected through the years. Two friends that the couple had met and kept in contact with while travelling through Europe, Asia and America - including both Sri Lanka and Siberia! Two were friends from Tyson's law firm, and others from his time at university and Oakfield. Most, though, were people that Vladimir knew from many stages of his life. The boys and girls he would play cricket with on the cul-de-sac road, the women who pinched his cheek and the men who cooked him steak on the barbecues. Friends he made at Corin Creek, and the colleagues and contacts from his degree and career in social work.

Guests of honour included Vladimir's three brothers. No-longer-baby brother Ilya was twenty-two years old and still lived at home. Though he and Masha were working together to ease him gradually into a routine of leaving the house, that plan faded from memory when Vasily passed away from his heart attack some months ago. Sasha, twenty-six, was here alone as well, having never actually dated someone. Vladimir and Dmitry were both sure he was gay, but Tyson thought the poor guy was too socially awkward and shy to date - or maybe he just wasn't interested. Dmitry, with his long-term girlfriend, Marilyn, was collecting Vladimir from the psychiatric ward for his approved three hours of freedom. The eldest Tchaikovsky baby was thirty-four! How time flew! He had his name in the credits of many small, independent games and a few big ones, all for programming. He'd been allegedly making his own game for quite some time, but Tyson had never seen any progress.

"C-Man, how are you doing over here?" Tyson approached Charlie Maizels, who looked as though he were uncomfortable being around so many people.

"You're the one we need to worry about, T-Man," the brunette replied cheekily, a mischievous glint in his blue eyes that he'd retained since he was a twelve-year-old mess in the AIU. "Getting that upset about a cake."

Charlie was still noticeably affected by his early years. He barely spoke to anyone he didn't know, so he didn't make friends. He no longer carried around a safety pillow half his size wherever he went. Now, his comfort item of choice was a tiny Yoshi plush doll he carried most of the time and squeezed when he was troubled. He struggled with severe social anxiety and post-traumatic stress, but he was now able to manage in the big, wide world. He was especially determined to come and celebrate Vladimir's thirtieth birthday and had - perhaps unwisely - spent the last forty-five minutes getting a little drunk to help his nerves.

After moving between government estates and halfway houses, Charlie lived with two housemates in a northern suburb and, though unemployed, currently took a creative writing course. He'd grown up handsome! Tyson had barely recognised him when they met again years later after Charlie's transfer to a long-term care facility. Tall and skinny, with that once tangled, matted mane now cut into a trendy, curly faux hawk and those teeth, while still not terrific, at least taken care of.

"Very funny! Drink your bubbly," Tyson poked his tongue out and gently tipped the glass flute in Charlie's hand with his finger.

"Is Kelly coming?" Charlie asked, a slight blush coming over his face.

"Kelly is not coming, I'm afraid! She's in Queensland doing something completely fucking boring, so you'll have to find someone else's cleavage to stare at!"

Tyson loved to tease Charlie about his obvious crush on Kelly, who was now thirty-two and had her own family. Like Tyson, she dropped her surname when she married her husband. She was Kelly Powell now, which was far less impressive off the tongue, but she wanted to distance herself from the Lovett Scandal as much as she could. Six years ago, she gave birth to a sweet little boy called Oshan - a traditionally Sinhala name that Tyson believed was ultimately one final "fuck you" to Edith and Chase.

Tyson liked Oshan, Kelly liked the adopted Chloe, and both kids loved each other, but the two families didn't see each other too often, limiting their visits to their childrens' birthdays and Christmases. Though they genuinely loved and respected each other, the former Belmont-Lovetts mutually agreed that being together brought back too many bitter memories, so they kept a distance most of the time.

"Here's our guest of honour!" Dmitry boomed through the front door as he threw it open, dragging his little brother through by the wrist as Marilyn brought up the rear.

"It's my house! I can walk in by myself!" Vladimir was complaining loudly, still shy about having all the attention on him.

Tyson, who had been waiting by the kitchen door, pounced. Though the pale man was now thirty, he was still gorgeous! The pair couldn't have looked more different. Tyson was dark-skinned, sporting well-groomed stubble on his face and kept his unruly hair cut short. He'd bulked up over the years thanks to a healthy interest in sports and pushing himself at the gym. By contrast, Vladimir looked almost feminine. He never did get a tan. He was babyfaced, like his brothers, and only needed to shave once a week. He was slender and lithe, and he'd let his raven-black hair grow out to touch his shoulders. Tyson immediately snatched his husband from Dmitry's grip and greeted him with a kiss on the lips - one reciprocated in full.

"Happy birthday, Vladimagnificent!"

Vladimir beamed. "Thank you, Tysopretty. You look... I can't even tell you how good you look! Did you dress up for me?"

While Russian was the preferred language of the Tchaikovsky family and had been ever since Tyson managed to master it, he spoke in English while Marilyn was around so as not to leave her out.

"I always dress up for you! Are you well? How are you feeling?"

"I'm good! I think I'm good! Though I was expecting you to pick me up instead of this jerk," Vladimir and his older brother began to playfully shove each other the way they did when they were teenagers.

"I drive you all the way here and this the thanks I get?" Dmitry teased him as he followed Marilyn into the other room.

"How are you feeling?" Tyson asked Vladimir privately, now that they were alone in the kitchen they spent months renovating together. "Oh, it feels so good to have you home, even if it's just for a few hours."

"You didn't have to organise a party for me," Vladimir replied in a whisper, stroking his husband's stubbly face with a pale hand. "I would have been happy to celebrate with you and Chloe. And Mama too, or she would get mad!"

Tyson and Vladimir laughed, rocking back and forth in their embrace and pressing their lips together a few times. Tyson gave a small yelp when Vladimir cheekily squeezed his butt and took his lover's hand away.

"Not the time or the place, you horny devil," Tyson teased him, gently biting him on the tip of his nose. "Next time, though, I'll make time for you to screw me senseless."

Vladimir giggled mischievously - something he always did when he had sex on the brain - and took the younger man's hand. The two of them walked to the next room, and the loud chorus of cheers greeted the thirty-year-old, who put his hands over his mouth in excitement. His beautiful blue eyes shone with enthusiasm and love as everyone shouted "Happy Birthday" and one by one, everyone lined up to hug him — even Charlie. Tyson's smile was wide enough to expose nearly all of his white teeth as he watched Vladimir scoop up little Chloe, who was over the moon to see her Papochka again!

"Have a drink, would you?" Elijah Silverman nagged, shoving Tyson's shoulder and offering him a freshly opened beer. "You set everything up for Vlad today, and I think you deserve to have a little bit of fun."

"I can't! I have to drive him back by four," Tyson replied to his friend, taking the bottle from him just to shut him up.

"Nobody said you needed to get wasted!" Banjo Connors added, standing by his long-term boyfriend's side.

"You don't need to have a beer, but he's going to be fine, you know," Elijah added, a twinkle in his brown eyes. "How many times has one of you been in hospital in the last fourteen years and how many times has everything been okay?"

Tyson instinctively ran his fingers over his left wrist. Where once it had three prominent purple scars, it now had five. Vladimir was not the only one whose mental illness tended to strike back unexpectedly. However, his two best friends were right. Vladimir had schizophrenia. He would always have schizophrenia. Sometimes, even though everything seemed to be going right, even though he took his medication and went to a therapy group for hearing voices twice a month, it just wasn't enough, and he needed to go back to inpatient care. But he always came back, and he was always worth waiting for.

"You'll be dumping your daughter on your scary Russian mum again for our double date in no time," Banjo added, taunting his friend by pushing the base of the beer with his fingers so that it touched his lips. "And you can be upset that your noodles are too short and make the sixteen-year-old waitress cry."

That managed to bring a laugh out of the south-Asian boy, who did indeed have a history of frivolous complaints during the hundreds of double-dates the two couples had shared. Old habits died hard, he guessed. It took him a long time to accept that not all of his undesirable behaviours were a product of the abuse he lived as a child. Sometimes, Tyson was just an arsehole, but his friends seemed to love him anyway.

"How are you, though?" Elijah, the more serious of the two, asked the question Tyson didn't want to answer. "And be honest!"

"It's been a rough week. I'm so co-dependent that it's pathetic," Tyson admitted, taking a swig of the beer in his hand. "It's making me act out, and I'm trying to behave."

"Mhm. We heard about the giant cake catastophe of 2033," Banjo laughed heartily and wrapped up his friend in a hug.

"No... thoughts?" Elijah asked quietly and discreetly, whispering in his friend's ear as he threw himself onto the hug pile.

"No, I'm good! And if I'm not, I'll give you a call," Tyson promised his friends. "I always do."

Vladimir didn't seem worried about the cake that Sandra-Anne destroyed with her negligent idiocy. Tyson felt like a complete jerk when he looked at the extra 'd' in his name and joyfully pointed out that there was more frosting to enjoy that way. The optimism never stopped with him. No matter how sick he got, he always looked at everything positively. The party did not get out of hand. It was a rather tame affair, mostly aimed at reminding Vladimir, sick though he was, that he had so many friends and family who loved him no matter what.

As four o'clock began to approach, Tyson noticed that he hadn't seen Vladimir in a little while, and rather than grow apprehensive as he had done many years ago, he only sighed sadly. He knew where to find him. He passed by the small barricade by the base of the stairs he'd set up to keep people from snooping and found him in their bedroom. That was where he usually went.

"What are you doing up here, Vlady? Everyone's missing you," Tyson spoke to him softly, approaching and touching him.

"My boyfriend wanted me to spend some time alone with him," Vladimir replied, biting his tongue cheekily. "Can we have some time alone?"

"We're a bit past the boyfriend secret snogging sessions in the bedroom phase, aren't we?" Tyson edged his way closer.

Vladimir chuckled, and Tyson kissed him on the lips, enjoying the feel of him before they took him back to the ward. All of the memories of who they were and all they'd gone through together flowed through him. Dating on the weekends while they stayed in different suburbs during the week. Fighting and making up. Shared desserts and showing up to each other's extraordinary achievements. Playing the flute for his boyfriend when he was sad, and Vladimir singing Russian nursery rhymes to him when the tables turned. Losing his virginity in the little pirate ship part of the playground near the house. Movies. Homework. Kissing. Travelling together and joining the mile-high club - four times. Adopting a baby girl who needed love.

"No. No, no, no," Vladimir pulled away, his face screwed up in panic. "No, that was a mistake! I have a boyfriend!"

"Huh?" Tyson frowned. "You have a husband. It's me."

"You're not making sense. I love my boyfriend." Vladimir looked at him strangely, and a horrible thought entered Tyson's head.

"Vlady... do you know who I am?" Tyson asked him.

Vladimir's eyes looked at him, up and down, but showed no signs of recognition. Tyson's heart broke. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. He would never blame Vladimir for the way his brain skipped. It sucked to see it happen to him.

"No-- you don't understand," Vladimir turned around, speaking to thin air as Tyson watched, tears welling in his eyes. "I love you. I love you so much."

"Who are you talking to?" Tyson had to ask, tugging on his boyfriend's wrist. "Vlady? Who's there?" Alexey, he thought miserably. Dead for fifteen years and still he won't leave Vladimir alone.

"Tyson."

"I'm Tyson," the younger man insisted, pointing to himself.

"No. Tyson's my boyfriend," Vladimir put a comforting hand on Tyson's shoulder. "Don't be upset. I'm sure you're a great guy, but... Tyson's my everything."

He was beginning to skip between languages, a bad sign. Sometimes when Vladimir would hallucinate or lapse into a dissociative state, Tyson was able to pull him out and help him take some medication. But once he began to mix up his thoughts and words, he was beyond any intervention Tyson could offer. It would only get worse from here without professional help. He needed to get Vladimir back to the hospital right now. Vladimir Tchaikovsky. The man who dedicated his life to helping children in need, adopted the most beautiful daughter in the world and healed the heart of a broken, lost boy long gone mad.

"Tyson loves you back, you know," he replied, sniffing and wiping his tears with the cuff of his nice shirt. "You're everything to him too. We better go back to the ward, Vlady."

"Oh! Is Tyson sick again?" Vladimir asked him, almost starting to panic. "Is he okay? What happened?" He turned back to where - Tyson assumed - young Tyson had been speaking to him, but he seemed surprised to see that nobody was there. "But... but he's alive. He didn't kill himself did he??"

"No. He would never do that to you. Why don't we go and see Tyson at the hospital?" He suggested, realising he needed to call the staff at the psych ward. They would be able to help get him back. "I'll come with you."

"Can we see Tyson?" Vladimir reached out and grabbed his husband's arm.

"Don't worry, Vlady. I'll make sure Tyson is always there for you."

He saved me. I will never stop trying to save him.