In Place Of

LaVieEnRose

It started on a Tuesday night, a little over a week after we got back from Disney. We'd had a really nice day, even if I'd been feeling really low-energy ever since we got back, and it was getting to the point where people were asking me about it at work. But we finished up this campaign and Brian liked it, and then he and I picked up Korean barbecue on the way home from work and we ate on the floor and Justin told us about his lunch meeting with his agent and showed us some of his new sketches, and Brian tried to hide how proud, and relieved, he was that Justin was working again. Afterwards Brian went and worked out in the gym upstairs and Justin and I fooled around and cleaned the kitchen, and then Justin hopped in the shower with Brian while I dozed off on the couch, and then we all flopped around the TV and watched this film noir thing. I couldn't really follow what was happening, but it was still nice, lying stretched out on the couch while Justin drew and Brian tossed popcorn into Justin's mouth.

And then at one point I reached forwards and stretched my legs out on the table and I saw Brian look at me and then away and then back again. I was wearing a pair of Justin's sweatpants and he's pretty small so they were short on me, which of course I didn't realize was significant in the moment, but...you kind of have to know in order for the story to make sense.

Brian got kind of quiet after that moment, and I noticed it in sort of this uneasy way. He got up pretty quickly when the movie was over and brought the popcorn bowls into the sink and nudged a yawning and wheezy Justin off to bed. He went to clean up the kitchen without saying anything to me, so I went down to my basement and felt like I'd done something wrong.

My basement is really nice. I have a pretty big kitchen in one half, and a little dining table where Justin and I play cards or work with textiles sometimes. I have my own bathroom down here, and a really big bed, and tons of space or my dresser and a desk and an easel. I still spent most of my time up in the main house, but it was a really good space. I hadn't been back to my apartment in weeks.

I'd brushed my teeth and changed and gotten into bed when my lights flashed from the top of the stairs. I didn't know if it was someone who could hear me or not, so I stuck my arm out in view of the stairs and gave a thumbs up, and a minute later Brian came down, walking slowly, wiping his hands with a dishtowel. He looked nervous.

Justin's going to order groceries tomorrow, he said. Wanted you to look at the list.

“Right. I forgot.”

Brian nodded a little but didn't move to go back up the stairs, and a moment later he came and sat on the foot of my bed and took a deep breath. I tried to figure out if he'd ever been there before.

So, we need to talk, he said, and I was confused when he'd asked me about groceries a minute before he was absolutely, definitely kicking me out. And I just...I didn't know what I'd done wrong, and of course I still had my apartment but I didn't want to go back, it was so warm and safe good here and what did I do, maybe I could fix it, why did I have to go?

“Okay?” I managed to say.

And when Brian said, with all this fucking gravitas, Your ankles are swollen...I laughed. It was so entirely not what I was expecting that I actually laughed.

“What?” I said.

He very gently pulled my quilt off my legs and eased my feet out on top of it. Your ankles are swollen, he said. See?

Huh. That was weird, but it didn't seem meaningful until I looked up at Brian watching me and...oh.

Oh.

You need to make a doctor's appointment, okay? he said.

“I...”

You haven't been feeling well for a while, he said, small.

I hadn't told him that.

“My T cells are fine,” I said. “I'm healthy, I...everything's fine.”

“I know,” he said.

They'd told me eighteen months before that they had to switch my meds because my kidney function had dropped and that even if it progressed I probably wouldn't have symptoms for years, and it probably wouldn't. That I just need to keep an eye out. Not worry about it. Live my life.

He looked really sad.

I swallowed. “My kidneys are failing, aren't they.”

He sighed a little, pulling my feet onto his lap. I know brains and lungs and immune systems, he said. This isn't my area. I have some reading to do.

“Yeah. Me too. Oh, God. How the fuck am I going to tell him?”

I'll do it, he said. Don't worry about that.

“He's going to panic...”

Brian shook his head. He'll be fine. He's really good. You should have seen him when I had cancer. Very no-nonsense. You'll like it.

I nodded and pinched the bridge of my nose. He gave me a minute, then touched my elbow to get my attention.

You need to have an interpreter with you at the doctor, okay? he said. I know you don't like them, but you need to make sure you understand everything. Maybe get a CDI. A CDI is a Certified Deaf Interpreter, and they come with your standard hearing interpreter sometimes and work as a team. The hearing interpreter makes sure the English is getting signed accurately, and then the CDI makes sure that what the hearing interpreter's signing is understood by the Deaf person. They're really useful for sensitive stuff where you want to make sure communication is as clear as it could possibly be, and also for Deaf people who aren't a hundred percent comfortable in English or ASL, because they can adapt to that, so...yeah, three for three, here. My English isn't great, my ASL isn't amazing, and...yeah. This seemed pretty fucking sensitive.

Yeah, I said. Okay.

Do you want me to come with you?

“No, no. I'm okay.”

He nodded, small, but after a minute he said, Can I come with you anyway?

**

I woke up the next morning, bailed on my usual run, and went upstairs to a main room already bright and alive. Justin was in his pajamas and at the kitchen table on his laptop, curled up in some unnatural position like he always is, and Brian was standing at the counter, already dressed for work, reading the paper and sipping coffee. There might have been music playing, it was hard to tell. Brian waved for Justin's attention when he saw me come up, and Justin unbunched himself and came over and kissed me. Good morning, he said.

Morning.

He tugged me over to the kitchen table. I made you breakfast.

Oatmeal?

Low sodium, low phosphorous, low potassium. And I put raspberries in it.

What did I tell you? Brian said. He's bossy.

Justin sat down across the table from me, pulling his legs back up on the chair, watching me expectantly. He looked...calm, and well-rested, which I'll be honest were two things I was not expecting.

Have you made the appointment yet? he asked.

It's seven in the morning.

Okay, well...do it on your lunch break. He tapped my bowl. Eat.

I did. Oatmeal's not that bad really. Justin picked at a plate of fruit—he doesn't like eating first thing—and let me steal a few pieces. Brian kept reading the paper and ignored us for the most part, though he shook out Justin's pills and fed them to him at one point.

How are you feeling? I asked him, and he rolled his eyes.

Brian watched Justin, sipping his coffee, then turned to me and said, Breathing was good last night. Small seizure around two AM.

“Okay, that's not so bad,” I said, and Justin wrinkled his nose and ate a strawberry. His hair was really fluffy and so bright in the light streaming in through the window.

You're going to the studio today, right? Brian said to him.

Yeah, I think so. I want to start sketching on the canvas some. Maybe I'll come to the office for lunch.

So he can hover and make sure you make the appointment, Brian said to me.

Justin nudged him. Shut up, he said, and Brian gave him a smarmy smile.

I can babysit him by myself for a day, Brian said. Get your work done. Haven't painted in goddamn months. Not even sure what the point of you is anymore.

It's a mystery.

He leaned over and kissed one of Justin's cheek and smacked the other one gently. Go get dressed, he said to me. We're going to be late.

“Well,” I said later, as he and I walked to the train.

See? Brian said. I told you. Don't worry about him handling it.

**

I had, unsurprisingly, a bitch of a time focusing at work that day. Now that I knew something was probably wrong, the fact that I was foggy and forgetful and short-tempered seemed so much more...significant, and I was also just so, so tired. I took a break at ten to get a relay service to call my doctor, and when that was over instead of going back to work I somehow ended up in Brian's office.

He was on the phone, but he motioned for me to come in and I sat down on his couch and pulled loose strings out of one of the pillows. It smelled like Justin.

Brian hung up the phone and raised an eyebrow at me. You okay?

I shrugged.

Need something, or just wanted company? Or are you here to destroy my furniture?

Not company, I said.

Ah, right, of course. The lone wolf. It drives Brian--and Justin--crazy that I don't like to be coddled when I'm not feeling well, but it's just...I don't know. I guess it's because I've been on my own for as long as I have, and even when I wasn't I just never had the kind of relationship with my parents where they were going to come and cuddle me because I had a stomachache. I know what I need, and I don't have to explain anything and I trust myself and I can do it all on my own. Why bother bringing another person into this shit? What do I get out of that? What does anyone?

I just don't need a lot.

"I made the appointment," I said. "Today at six."

He nodded, frowning slightly at something on his computer screen. Did you get an interpreter?

"It's at the hospital, they have one on staff."

CDI?

"I'll be fine."

Brian shook his head. You're not going to get all of it from a hearing interpreter. They're going to fingerspell a ton of words and you won't know what they mean and you're not going to know what's going on. Justin has a hard time with doctor's appointments without a CDI, and he's a lot more comfortable with English than you are.

I can't just make a CDI appear out of nowhere.

So we get someone non-certified. Emily's done some Deaf interpreting. Is she free tonight?

I don't want Emily.

She's literally the best signer I've ever met. She'll make you understand everything.

I know, I just...I don't want her to know all this stuff. I'm not ready for people to know. I paused. Can Justin do it?

You want a stronger signer than Justin, he said. And he can't hang around hospitals anyway, he can't come.

Oh. Right.

Brian raised an eyebrow, studying me. Did you want him to?

No, I just...thought since you were coming.

He shrugged a little. Justin stand-in.

Yeah. Can you do it?

Interpret? If Justin's signing isn't good enough, Lord knows mine isn't. And I'm not even Deaf. Can't exactly be a Deaf interpreter.

Wait, you're not Deaf?

He rolled his eyes, looked at his computer, and said, small, He wanted to come.

“Yeah? He didn't have a germ freakout?”

Brian shook his head.

“That's a good sign,” I said. “He's starting to actually believe that his immune system's stronger.”

Brian typed for a minute without saying anything, then turned to me all business and said, You're going to tell me when I need to stop the interpreter and explain something.

I nodded.

Okay. He studied me. You should go home.

“No.”

You're in no shape to work today. You're just gonna fuck up the new account.

“If I go home I'm just going to think,” I said. “I need to be distracted.”

Jane's there, she's plenty distracting.

“Only if you're hearing.”

I'm your boss, Brian said. Go home.

“You're not my boss. You're like my boss's boss's boss.”

I don't think that's the argument you think it is.

“I'm gonna stay,” I said, standing up. “We can leave here and go to the doctor after work.”

God, you make Justin look easy.

I chewed on the inside of my mouth. It could still be nothing, right? I could be fine.

He just watched me, and I knew he didn't know what to say.

“It's been a while since you did this with someone who wasn't used to it, huh,” I said.

Yeah.

I swallowed. “Guess I'm going to get used to it soon enough.”

**

They weighed me at the doctor, and took my blood, and poked at my ankles, and talked at me for a long time. Brian stopped the interpreter a lot at the doctor's office, even when I didn't ask him to, which...was good, because I kept getting too lost to know what to ask.

He stopped the appointment every time the interpreter fingerspelled something and asked if I knew what it meant. You need to sign the concept, he said to the interpreter. He doesn't know these medical terms.

I fingerspelled, Electric..?

Electrolytes, Brian said to me. Levels of minerals in your blood. It's the stuff that's in Gatorade.

Ibuprofen. Creatinine. Uremia.

Dialysis.

A lot of words to spell.

**

Justin was waiting by the door when we got back, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. Brian kissed his forehead and sat him down, and I sat down next to him and took his hand and was really glad that Brian was clearly going to handle this, because God, I was so so tired.

So right now we're really just waiting, Brian said. They took some blood and they're running tests, and then we'll know what's going on.

Justin squeezed my hand. But they do think this is his kidneys.

Brian nodded. They could tell he was sick. They just don't really know why. The tests will tell us more about where we are right now and what our next steps are.

Do they think it's your meds? Justin asked me.

They don't know, I said.

Are they going to change them?

I leaned back on the couch. I don't know.

Okay. Justin kissed my cheek. You're tired, we don't have to talk about this now. How was work?

And then he just...let me talk about work instead of the fact that my fucking organs weren't working, and he sat there and asked me questions about the boards I was working on and my two coworkers who won't stop flirting with each other like that was the most important thing going on here. Like that was what he really cared about.

He was so goddamn normal, sitting there curled up in his sweatpants and Brian's old ratty t-shirt and his hair was curly behind his ears and fuck, I loved him so much, and he laughed when I told him stories from work.

Brian got up and started straightening up as soon as we were off the topic of kidneys, and after a little while he wandered into the kitchen and then abruptly interrupted our conversation. Did you eat? he asked Justin.

No, I was waiting for you guys.

No, not...did you eat lunch. Have you eaten today?

You saw me eat.

I saw you poke at some fruit, did you have lunch?

Yeah, I ate with Jane.

What did you have?

Jesus. Half a sandwich.

Half...okay. You're having a protein shake with dinner.

I had one last night!

You're not losing any more fucking weight on my watch. I'm not arguing about this.

Justin rolled his eyes as Brian went back into the kitchen. Ignore him.

You are skinny.

I'm fine. He's just trying not to suffocate you so he's taking it out on me.

I think I want to go lie down for a while, I said.

He nodded and kissed me. Okay, he said. Text me if you need anything.

Okay, I said, but we both knew I wouldn't.

I didn't need anything.

**

I kind of checked out while we waited for test results. Part of it was that I just felt like shit, like my body knew that I was onto it now it was done being subtle, but I also just...I don't know. It's like I'd told Brian. I wasn't used to this. I'd been positive for years, but I hadn't really been sick since I was first diagnosed. It was just a thing hanging out in the background. I'd always been fine.

Justin was...I really can't overstate how incredible Justin was. He was just normal, but not in a way that seemed forced and fake. There was never any pretense that he wasn't acting normal because he knew I wanted him to act normal. The whole thing was acknowledged, honest, somehow fucking...light, I don't know. He just smiled at me a lot, the same slow, gentle smile he's always had, and he joked with me and asked if he could get me anything and did a lot of research and translated a lot of scary-looking webpages from English to ASL so I'd understand what was going on, when I asked him, and then went right back to talking about movies or art or sex. He was just...there, taking me out for lunch during the workday or making dinner or doing these beautiful sketches of me. Just around, all the time, steady and sweet and so goddamn easy. It was still kind of weird, because he's, you know, him, and I'm used to doing little things for him to make his life a little easier, so this was a role reversal in a way. But he made it seem so natural, like we'd been doing this the whole time.

And then on the other hand we have Brian. Wound up like a spring and...yeah. Like Justin said. Channeling it into micromanaging Justin's every move. And don't get me wrong, he hassled me too, paging me up to his office every five minutes to ask me some banal question that did not need answering and then right when I was about to leave, oh by the way areyoudrinkingwaterdidyoutakeyourmedshaveyouheardfromthedoctor, but he was fucking all over Justin. He really needed to just carry a sign that said “Justin, go lie down,” to save some time, because fuck was he saying it all the time. And what was weird was that Justin was, by his standards, fine. It was April, so his allergies were still giving him hell and his hand was acting up now that he was working more, but for the most part, doing well, and Brian was all over him like a parent who thinks their teenager is on drugs. Though I guess Brian wouldn't have much of a leg to stand on if that were the case.

I missed drinking.

Time just...passed. Three days, four days, five, with no test results. On Thursday night I couldn't sleep. I felt anxious and itchy and sore and I tossed around bed for a while before I got up to make myself some tea. Turned out I was out of tea bags, so I crept up the stairs to borrow some from Brian and Justin. I went into the kitchen, lights off, and rooted around in the cabinet, and when I turned around and there was a person standing behind me I jumped about a foot.

Brian turned the lights on. Sorry, he said. I forgot you wouldn't have your aids in. Normally I would have been able to hear a little bit of him coming up behind me, but I take my hearing aids out to go to sleep and without them I really don't hear much of anything.

What happens if you mix a heart attack with kidney failure? I said. You think they cancel each other out and I'm good to go now?

He snorted. Why are you up?

I held up the tea box. “What about you?” He didn't look like he'd just been woken up, and I didn't think I'd been loud. “Up with Justin?”

You really can't hear without your aids in, huh?

“Not at all. Why, is he coughing?”

Yeah. He's fine. Just loud, you know how he is. Maybe.

I laughed a little, and Brian quirked up the side of his mouth.

He's okay, Brian said. Just keeping me up. Heard you moving around out here, wanted to see what was up.

Too bad you can't turn your ears off.

Yeah, seriously. He turned around and looked back towards the bedroom.

“Brian?”

He turned to face me. Yeah. You should go back to bed. Supposed to be resting.

“Supposed to be waiting, not resting.”

Potato tomato. Go. Bed. He was already back in his room by the time I made it to the stairs.

I didn't sleep well, even after making tea, and I felt pretty awful by the time my alarm went off. I dragged myself upstairs for breakfast and Justin, curled up on the couch, took one look at me and waved for Brian's attention. He's staying home, Justin said.

Brian came out of the kitchen and said, Yeah, okay.

Think you could eat? Justin said.

Not yet. I don't know.

That's okay. We can watch a movie if you want.

I think I'm just going to sleep some more, I said, feeling oddly guilty about...what, not being any trouble for him?

Brian came out of the kitchen with coffee and put one mug against Justin's chest and held it there. “You need anything?” he asked me.

I shook my head. “Just gonna sleep.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'll tell art,” Brian said. Justin took the coffee mug from him and Brian turned to him and started signing as I went back downstairs, asking him, now, if he needed anything. Justin would probably give him something to do. He's always telling me to give Brian a small task or something so he won't just be a ball of useless nervous energy, but...I don't know. I can never think of anything I want to ask him for.

I curled up in bed and slept on and off for most of the day. Justin woke me up a few times to make me eat some toast and sip some water, which was kind of confusing because he doesn't come downstairs that often; I usually go up to him. I woke up with more finality sometime in the late afternoon, and he was in my kitchen mincing garlic with his left hand. He put down the knife when he saw me stir. Hi, he said. Soup soon.

I stretched and nodded to his right hand, held close to his chest the way he does. Work a lot today?

Some, he said, still left-handed. My agent wants drafts. He came and sat on the foot of the bed and smiled at me. How are you feeling? You look a little better.

I just wish I knew what was going on.

I know.

I feel like I don't even know if I get to feel bad and stay home from work, you know? Like until it has a name...I could just be making it up.

He nodded a little. Yeah. Back when I was losing my hearing they told me I'd probably feel fine, I'd just go Deaf. And then I just felt dizzy and shitty all the time and I felt like...

Yeah. Exactly.

But you know your body, he said. You don't run half-marathons without knowing your body. You know when you need to rest.

Yeah. Maybe. I leaned forwards and kissed him. How are you? You look tired.

He smiled. I always look tired.

True. It looks good on you.

He crawled up on the bed next to me and we messed around for a while, just lazily, but Justin was still panting by the time he pulled back and said Soup's ready, and I nodded. He got up and took a few steps to the kitchen before he stopped and steadied himself, breathing hard.

I stretched as far as I could and brushed my fingers against his arm. Justin.

He smiled at me. I'm okay.

You need to go? You can go. The air's a little damper down here since it's underground, and sometimes that feels good to him and sometimes it's just too hard for him to breathe. You never know.

I'm good, really. Just lost my balance a little.

He does that. Okay, I said. I kept an eye on him while he went over to the stove and ladled out some soup, ready to leap up if he looked seizurey, but he was okay. He coughed lightly into his shoulder and carried the soup with his left hand.

“Bed or table?” he said, out loud. It's always weird reading his lips. I don't do it often.

Bed, yeah.

He brought me the soup—it's this spicy shrimp noodle thing he always makes when one of us is sick, and it's so good—and hung out on the bed with me and read some of his book while I ate. It was a little closer to hovering than I usually like when I'm sick, but...I don't know. I wasn't hating it, and that was kind of confusing. He's just really warm, and he always smells so good, and I felt a lot less scared that I had in a while. I don't know. It was weird.

I'd almost finished my soup when my phone started flashing on my nightstand. I reached over and looked at the screen. It's your husband,I told Justin.

Tell him to bring home pizza.

I swiped to answer the phone to a very pissed-off looking Brian walking to the subway. “Hi?” I said.

Are you okay? You look like shit.

“I'm fine. What's with you?”

I've been trying to call Justin and he won't answer his phone, and I was about to ask where he was but I can barely fucking hear you over...Christ. Both of you stay where you are. I'm getting in a cab. He hung up.

You didn't ask for pizza, Justin said, barely looking up from his book.

I didn't get a chance, he's throwing some kind of fit.

Imagine if I only got pizza when Brian isn't throwing a fit, he said. I'd forget what it tastes like.

Brian was back ten minutes later, coming down the stairs all fire and fury. Why the fuck are you down here? he said to Justin.

Why do you think?

You can't... He pinched the bridge of his nose. Justin. None of your shit is down here.

I expected Justin to argue or roll his eyes but he just said, I know, with his eyes on Brian, and something unspoken happened between them.

Okay, Brian said, with a little nod, and then he came over to Justin and helped him up, his hands really gentle on him the way they always are. I'll be back in a minute, he said to me. Don't move. He kept a hand on Justin's back and guided him towards the stairs, and he stayed behind him on the way up. Stairs are rough for Justin, and they took them slowly.

I felt...strange once they were gone, like a part of me just wasn't...right. I couldn't explain it and I didn't like it, and by the time Brian came back about ten minutes later I was in a shitty mood from it. Brian was back to being all keyed up and pissed off, and he fixed my covers like they'd personally offended him. I batted him away.

He sighed. We should call your doctor, you look like shit.

“And they'll do what, scan my blood faster? I'm just tired.”

What did you do today?

“I hung out with Justin. Is that allowed?”

He rolled his eyes. Don't act like any of this is me trying to keep you from Justin.

“Any of what, are we finally going to name what you've been doing?”

Which is what, exactly?

“Fucking...micromanaging Justin's every move.” I learned that word from people complaining about Brian at work. “You're treating him like a child.”

You don't know what you're talking about.

“I know he's capable as shit and he's been amazing with this, and Christ, you're the one who told me I didn't have to worry about him with this, that he could handle it!”

Yeah, why do you think you don't need to worry about him?

“Oh yeah, Saint Brian taking care of everything. And you're so subtle about it, too.”

He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

He's fine, I said. Look at him. You're driving him crazy acting like he's not fine when he's fine.

Brian just watched me and didn't move.

Waiting for me to get it.

“He's not fine, is he,” I said.

Brian sighed and pulled my chair up to the foot of the bed and sat down.

“No,” he said. “He's not fine.”

But he's acting—

Yeah. That's what he does. He puts things in boxes. He doesn't...it's a brain injury thing. He categorizes. He shrugged. It's a Justin thing.

“Tell me what's wrong.”

It's nothing I can't handle.

“Tell me.”

He sighed. He can't breathe. He's upstairs on a neb right now, we might have to go to urgent care.

I felt cold. “I didn't know.”

You can't hear the wheezing. I know.

“He was up last night because he couldn't breathe.”

Last night was bad, yeah.

“It's worse because he's anxious, right? Because he's worried and he's not sleeping so the seizures get worse, he couldn't use his hand today, I thought it was because he was working...”

I have him, Brian said. If he needs to go to urgent care I'll take him to urgent care. I'm not new at this. I got it.

“I'm hurting him. I'm doing this to him. I can't...fuck.”

He's going to be fine.

“I can't do this to him.”

So what are you going to do?

“I don't know.”

You're going to, what, leave him for his own protection? Yeah, take it from me, he's not a big fan of that move.

“I can't fucking...I know what this is like, I can't put him through this.”

Don't do this martyr shit.

“You don't know what the fuck this is asking of him!”

Like fuck I don't.

“I've watched a boyfriend die, Brian.”

His jaw tightened. Yeah. So have I.

“Yeah, well mine didn't bitch out right at the end and live,” I said, and Brian's face stayed serious but I saw him snort like he couldn't help it, and a minute later we were both laughing. Brian moved reached out and took my hand and kind of just played with my sleeve as we slowed down, and I let him.

He's tough, Brian said after a while. He's too tough for his own good. He just...runs himself ragged.

“You said he was good when you were sick.”

Yeah, he was. For a month he held it together, never let me see a crack. And then the day after my last round of radiation I got a call from his school that that he'd fainted in class, and it turned out he'd forgotten to have a fucking sip of water for four days. He runs himself ragged. He's very polite about waiting until you're well to fall apart, but...

But I'm not getting well.

He nodded a little.

So what the fuck do we do?

We wait for him to figure out the balance, Brian said. He'll get there. This isn't...he's not naturally good at this. I'm not good at being sick, he's not good at being well. He will learn how to do it without being a fucking fall-apart mess as soon as he's away from you. Just needs some time.

“Trying to coddle him isn't going to help.”

He looked away. You don't understand.

“Yeah I do.”

He sighed. Yeah, you do. He looked back at me. You know what the problem is here.

I do.

He's not well, Brian said, almost to himself. He ran his hand over his mouth. That's the thing. He has to be the well one in your little equation and he's not well.

“I know.”

I... He paused. You don't see Brian search for words very often, even in his second language. I have to...my fucking... He paused and took a deep breath. I am here to keep him safe. And I can't lose sight of that just because I want to fucking glue myself to your side right now.

I laughed a little. “You're incorrigible.”

Good word.

“Got it from Justin.”

God, imagine him trying to say those Rs. He took a deep breath. Look, I know you usually... He shrugged a little. I'm giving him shit in front of you for a reason, you know? I don't want you to worry that he's not taken care of if you can't do it for a while.

I can't imagine ever worrying about that, I said.

Brian nodded. Okay. Okay. Good.

We just sat for a while, kind of...decompressing from both of us expressing more feelings than we typically do over the course of a couple months, and eventually Brian got out of the chair and lifted my chin and gave me a brusque kiss on the forehead.

What do you need right now? he said.

“I think just to sleep some more. And maybe for you to check and make sure he's breathing. Tell me if you take him in, okay? And tell him not to come down the fucking stairs when he can't breathe again.”

Oh, trust me, I have. He didn't even have his inhaler on him.

“Jesus.”

Yeah, he's a moron. Okay. Yell if you need anything.

“Yeah, Thanks.”

I figured that would be the end of my night, pretty much—I mean, that's really enough for anyone, right?—so I sent a sappy text to Justin telling him to feel better and stop being an idiot and went to sleep for a while, but I woke up around midnight feeling really, really wrong. I stumbled to my bathroom and threw up about a second after I was awake, and afterwards I was dizzy and out of breath and just drenched in sweat. I dug around under my sink until I found a thermometer, and my stomach twisted when I saw 102.4.

Okay, I said to myself. Okay, okay, okay.

I went back to my room and started throwing stuff in my backpack—a shirt, my phone charger, some socks, Justin's hoodie. My meds were upstairs, so I went up and started rooting around the cabinets. I was sort of vaguely aware of Justin and Brian on the couch, Justin tucked into Brian's side with his legs over his lap and the nebulizer mask on, mostly asleep, but I didn't really register that they were there until the lights flickered and they were both coming towards me.

Justin said, Baby— and took a step towards me, and I held up my hand.

Don't, I said. Stay away.

Justin said, Evan, what...

I mean it, I said to him, and I nodded to Brian and beckoned him over, and I took his wrist and put his hand on my forehead.

“Shit,” he said.

“Yeah.” I pointed at Justin as he took another step forwards. “He's trying it again.”

Brian turned and shook his head at him. No. You listen to him, you stay where you are.

“I can't be here,” I said. “I can't be here with him.”

Tell me what's going on, Justin said.

Brian said, He has a fever.

“Of course he has a fever, look at him.”

So you can't— I started.

It's probably not contagious, Justin said.

Brian said, Sunshine, he could have an infection. We don't know what it is.

My immune system—

—is still in no shape to be around sick people. No.

You're not taking him from me.

Justin...

He can't leave, Justin said. He's sick.

You're sick, I said.

Brian said, Both of you let me think.

I'll go, Justin said. You stay here and I'll go somewhere.

All your stuff is here, I said. You're allergic to everywhere that isn't here. You have to stay. I need to sit down.

Brian pulled out a chair for me and guided me down. Where are you planning on going?

My apartment.

Your...what? You still have your fucking apartment? He turned to Justin. Did you know this?

Don't get me started, Justin said.

Okay, you're not going back to that shithole, Brian said. He lay his hand on the back of my neck, then touched my cheek. God. Hang on. He went to the sink and washed his hands, then went over to Justin and put his hand on his arm and they signed to each other for a few minutes.

I held my head and tried to stop the room from spinning.

Brian came over to me after a little and helped me to my feet. Okay. We're going to a hotel.

“We? No...”

You're not going by yourself.

“'I'll be okay.”

No, Evan. You're not going to win this one.

“Justin...”

Justin will be fine. We'll call Emily and Gwen, they'll come here and stay with him.

That wasn't what I meant, but I was too dizzy to remember what I had meant exactly. So I moved on to something else. “You're supposed to stay with Justin.”

He glanced at Justin, then pointed at his lips and said, “Look at me.”

“Okay.”

“He's scared. He wants to be with you so badly. He is not going to breathe if I'm not with you.”

“My head hurts really bad,” I whispered.

We're going to go now, okay? Come on. I have you.

Justin had been rushing around with my backpack, filling it up with supplies, and he handed it to Brian and stood by, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, his lip in his mouth. Brian signed, It's okay, to him firmly.

“I love you,” Justin said.

Brian nodded and pointed to me and said, Tell him.

“I love you I love you I love you,” Justin said to me.

I love you, I said. Don't cry. You have to breathe. I'm okay.

Brian help me up and got me out to the car, and Justin stood in the doorway as we pulled out, twisting his hands, saying, “I love you I love you I love you,” like a prayer.

**

Brian hung up the phone. Fucking no one is helpful at two in the morning.

I blinked up at the hotel ceiling. “The lights are pretty.”

God, you're wasted.

“What did the nurse say?”

Wait and see, keep an eye on you. Everyone in the known fucking universe telling me to keep an eye on you.

“Guess you should keep an eye on me, then.”

Yeah, only that doesn't seem to be working, Prometheus.

“I don't know that word.”

Yeah. He stole fire. He sat down on the edge of my bed. You gonna live?

Justin will kill you if I don't.

Yes he will. He pushed my hair off my forehead and sighed. You poor son of a bitch. Hurts?

Yeah. I'm okay. How's Justin?

Brian looked at his phone. Still texting me trying to convince me to bring you home.

No.

Yeah, I know. I think he likes you or something, I don't know.

I breathed in and out, slowly. “Room's spinning.”

He nodded and ran his hand up and down my arm.

I swallowed. Emily's there?

She's there.

I never told her about me. She's gonna be mad I didn't tell her.

Plenty of time for that. He touched his fingers to my cheek, and I shivered.

“Brian...”

He took his hand away. Too much?

“Yeah. Don't hover.”

You are such a pain in the ass.

“Yeah.”

Brian got me some water and fixed my covers, bitching about how weird it was to be sleeping in a different bed from a sick person, before I fell asleep. After that it's kind of a blur. I was awake some and asleep some. I vomited until I thought I might die.

I got very, very scared, sitting there on the floor of the hotel bathroom. Brian wasn't making jokes.

He looked at the thermometer. We're not waiting any more.

I don't remember how we got to the hospital, if Brian called an ambulance or if we drove. I remember not knowing if I should watch Brian's lips or people's signing and being so, so cold and telling someone I thought I was drowning.

They're going to fix it, Brian told me. He was sitting on the gurney with me, holding me against him.

I was crying. I remember that. “I w-want Justin,” I said, and trust me, no one was more surprised than me. But God, in that moment, scared out of my fucking mind, feeling like I might actually die that night, I wanted him more than I wanted oxygen. If you've never had Justin when something's wrong, I don't think I can explain what it feels like to do it without him.

And I felt bad about it, even in the moment, because Brian was right here with me and I was asking for somebody else, and God, this is why you don't want people, this is why you never let them know, but he just said, I know. I know you do. Okay, if Justin was here...he'd hold your hand, yeah?

I nodded hard, and Brian took my hand and laced our fingers together.

He'd make up stories, he said with his other hand. He'd talk about all the people and why they were here.

“Yeah.”

Okay, see that woman over there? he said, and he told me what was wrong with everyone and how we were all going to be okay until everything went black.

I woke up vague and scared a few times, but it was day by the time anything was really clear. My aids were in, so I could hear kind of background noise. I still had my bracelet with Brian's name. There were two IV lines going into my arm, both of them filled up with blood and attached to a machine. I recognized that from the websites.

I felt foggy, but a lot better.

Justin was sitting in a chair near the foot of the bed. He had a mask on, one of the germ ones, and his shoulders were going up and down when he breathed. His head was bowed, so he hadn't noticed I was awake.

Maybe it was right then, or maybe I fell back asleep and lost a little time, but Brian came in with two cups of coffee. He put them on table next to Justin and crouched down in front of him, asking him really gentle questions about how he was feeling, if he could get him anything. Justin mostly shook his head a lot and acted like he wasn't really listening.

God, Brian said eventually, almost to himself. I was going to protect you from one thing. Just one fucking thing.

Justin didn't say anything, but after a few seconds he leaned forwards and rested his forehead against Brian's, and they both closed their eyes, and that's how they were when I fell back asleep.

**

I stayed in the hospital for three days. Brian went back to work after the first day, but someone was with me the whole time. Usually Justin, but when he went back to the house to shower or get a few hours of sleep, Emily would be there, or Gwen, or Derek or Daph. Brian came every evening after work to complain about the art department and make Justin eat.

It...wasn't the worst, having people around. I was too sick to be self-conscious, for the most part, and it was just a relief to not have to give a shit about anything because someone else was on top of it. I'd never really let go like that.

I guess I'd never really had anyone to be on top of it.

So I figured, okay. When it's really really bad like this, maybe I can have some backup.

Maybe I'm allowed that.

**

I left the hospital at around nine at night. Brian and Justin were both there for discharge, and we were quiet mostly, but not in a bad way. Justin was having inexplicably terrible hay fever, even by his standards, just sneezing like you would not believe, and Brian was teasing him about it and Justin was smacking him and it did a lot to lighten the mood.

We've got to start your driving lessons back up, Brian said on our way to the car.

I don't know, I said.

I do. Next week. We'll try backing up.

I sat in the backseat on on the drive home, watching Brian and Justin have a low-key argument about whether or not some celebrity Justin mentioned was gay. We pulled up at the house and they helped me haul my stuff in, and I stood in the main room feeling like I'd been gone a lot longer than I really had.

We made dinner without really discussing it, each of us just taking care of our own part and coming together when we needed to. Justin talked about a phone call he'd had with his agent that day while we ate, and Brian stepped out at one point to take a call from work, and it wall somehow very normal and very subdued at the same time.

As we were doing the dishes, Justin said, So we can figure out what you want to do about work. If you want to cut back to part-time or go on short-term disability.

Short-term, I said.

He put a plate in the dish washer. Yep. Back before you know it.

I'm going to take you to dialysis on Wednesdays, and Justin's going to do Mondays and Fridays, Brian said.

I can go by myself. It's just sitting there.

Let him help, was all Brian said.

I was still tired, so I went down and got in bed not long after dinner. But it felt strange being back in my bed. Being alone. There was this gnawing kind of feeling in my stomach and I couldn't figure it out, because I didn't even really feel sick, just...nervous. I paced around the basement for a little while and finally went upstairs, still not really sure what I was doing.

Brian and Justin were curled up on the couch watching some movie, and they looked up when I came in. You okay? Justin asked.

Yeah.

Something wrong? Brian said.

I shook my head and twisted my hands.

Evan, Brian said. What's wrong?

I think I want Justin?

Justin frowned. Do you feel okay?

Yeah. Sorry. I'm fine. Sorry. I started to go, and he reached out and grabbed me.

Come here, he said.

He stretched out his arm, and I got on the couch next to him and pulled my legs up, resting my head on his chest. His t-shirt was so soft under my cheek, and I could feel his heartbeat and his scratchy breathing.

You okay? Justin signed on me, and I nodded and pushed my face into his ribs. I slept like a baby, right there.