Alex went quiet for a long time and Memo absolutely knew his stomach was curdling with dread. It was the same feeling he, himself, got whenever he thought about returning home to Galar. Not even-- not even Spikemuth, just, the fucking region, as a whole.

“I know you’re scared,” he said, barely more than a whisper, a breath over Alex’s chest, “but it’s not going to be like any of the times it was before. Because I’ll be there. You won’t be alone.”

His fingers traced a trail over the outer curve of Alex’s ribs.

“But… this is important, honey. Your health is important. I would like you to at least do the consult. See what the doctors say.” He rubs a thumb over Alex’s sternum. “Who knows? It might not be as bad as you think. You have a way with worrying. It’s a gift, honestly.”

“I know, you’ve told me,” he said, patient and understanding. If there was any tension in his body at Alex’s recounting of his past hospital experiences it wasn’t directed at the man in question, but rather, at those who had left him, isolated and alone. If Memo was face to face with them, right now or ever, he’d deck them all, and then give them a chewing out that would make his abuelita proud.

“Baby.” It’s gentle, insistent, like a fishing hook, aiming to catch and draw Alex out from where he’s receding, the horrors he’s falling into. “You’re not going to be alone. I’m going to be there.” He presses gently along Alex’s collarbone like he’s a paper crane with seams that need strengthening.

“That’s part of why I want you to do this, Alex. Because now that I have you I’m not ever, ever going to let you go. You’re going to get sixteen to seventeen years and then another and another and another.”

He rolls himself up so they’re chest to chest, elbow planted in the bed by Alex’s right bicep, chin in his hands.

“If you don’t do it for yourself, do it for me, please,” he murmurs, unwilling to feel ashamed of the gentle manipulation, bright eyes scanning Alex’s, aiming to burn out all the cobwebs and shadows there.

Memo didn’t miss the tears that began to gather at the sides of Alex’s eyes, reaching up to swipe at them with his thumb, press a warm palm into the other man’s cheek.

“I’m a firm believer that you make time for the important things,” he said, smiling, “and you’re important to me.”

When Alex sighed in defeat, Memo found his smile growing into a wide, genuine grin, and he wrapped his arms around Alex’s chest and nestled in.

“Good. I hope you do.”