The One Where Brian Isn't There
LaVieEnRose

The phone rang at two in the morning.

“What the fuck,” Ben groaned, pulling his pillow over his head. “I thought once he left the state the drunk phone calls would stop.”

I shushed him and rubbed his back while I picked up the phone. “Hello?” I said, softly. Either it was Hunter, or Ben was right and—

“Get up and go to New York,” Brian said flatly.

Goddamn it. I was going to have to make Ben breakfast to make up for this shit. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Well, it's four in the afternoon here, so...early? I don't know.”

“Right.” I yawned. “Australia.” He'd left a few days ago for a conference down under. Said he'd send us a postcard back here in the Pitts, not like we were his home anymore anyway. “Wait, if you're in Australia, why the fuck do you want me to go to New York?”

“Because I'm not there,” he snapped. “Get up, get dressed. There's a flight in an hour. I'll pay.”

“Shit.” I sat up and put my feet on the floor. “What happened?”

“Yeah, that's what you're going to find out. He's not answering his phone.”

“It's...you're sending me to New York because he's not answering his phone at two in the morning?”

“Jesus Christ,” Ben said.

“Noooo,” Brian said, with fake-patience. “I'm sending you to New York because he texted me while I was in a meeting an hour ago telling me he felt like he was going to have a seizure, and now he's not answering his phone. Now don't you feel like an idiot? Get up.”

“Doesn't he...have a lot of seizures?”

“Oh! You're right! I forgot about that. He's probably fine, then. Thanks, Mikey. Never mind.”

Goddamn, he can be so fucking annoying. Scratch that: he's always fucking annoying, but I'm only sometimes fucking annoyed.

“He doesn't usually feel them coming unless they're major,” Brian said. “And they just lowered his meds again before I left.”

“Seems like shitty timing.”

“Thank you. Thank you for that. You know what, put your fucking husband on the phone, I'll send him instead.”

I ignored him. “What about Daphne? Isn't she in New York?”

“She's in France this weekend.”

“What about, I don't know, his mother?”

“You're the one with the key to our apartment. And I would rather not worry her unless there's something to worry about.”

“But you don't mind worrying me.”

“Frankly, Michael, you don't sound all that fucking worried.”

“I just think you should give him a few hours to answer his phone. Like during daylight, for example.”

I heard him take a pull of his cigarette. “I have a bad feeling,” he said after a minute. “Okay? And last time I had a bad feeling he was...it wasn't good.”

“A bad feeling.”

“Yeah.”

I wanted to make fun of that. Hell, I almost did. But I looked at Ben beside me and I just...I don't know. Couldn't. I've had bad feelings too.

I sighed. “Okay, okay. I'll go.”

“There's a cab outside your house waiting for you.”

“What the fuck? Already?”

”Go,” Brian said.

**

The flight from Pittsburgh to New York is short, but it was enough time to think about how the fuck this became my life.

I mean, imagine. Some eight and a half years ago, Brian goes home with his nine millionth trick, I head home with my nine millionth (okay, not literally, but it sure felt like it) aborted, disastrous non-trick, on a night that, Gus's birth aside, you'd never would have guessed was the start of anything but another boring ass chapter of the same boring ass book. Now fast forward to now, and I'm married to a guy I probably never would have met if Justin weren't being all about inspiring people to live their dreams or whatever the fuck that shit was that had me pin all my hopes on a comic book shop, and Brian finally broke out of Pittsburgh and was sending me to New York in the middle of the night to check the status of that trick he just happened to glance up and see under the stoplight, who is Deaf and sick now and also his fucking husband.

And oh yeah, Justin and I have a successful comic book together that was almost sort of a movie.

It was just impossible to break any of this down into something simple, that's what I'm saying. At this point, our lives were just so fucking tangled together, the good and and the bad, all of it. Brian and Justin spoke some whole new language and had moved to a whole different state—hell, Brian was in a different fucking continent right now—and here we were still balled up in each other's business.

It's hard to not be irritated sometimes. Brian and Justin would never have moved to New York if Justin weren't an artist, and I'd still have my best friend around, and he wouldn't be so fucking tired all the time if Justin hadn't lost his hearing, and I'd still talk to Brian more than once a week and I would have fucking seen him sometime in the past two months.

But then we wouldn't have the comic book. And Brian wouldn't have Justin. And Justin wouldn't have Brian.

So, like I said. None of it's simple.

**

I texted Brian once I'd landed to let him know I was there, and then on a whim texted Justin and gave him a call, just to see. Maybe he'd answer and it would turn out this whole rescue mission was as unnecessary as I thought it was.

He didn't answer, but it was still the middle of the fucking night. Brian called me a minute later.

“You know how to get to the apartment?” he asked me.

“Uh, no, but I'm sure a cab driver does.”

“Right.” He paused. “Flick the lights when you go in so he'll know someone's there.”

“I know, Brian. I have seen Justin in the past two years.”

“He might be asleep.”

“I've even seen him sleep before.”

“Yeah. I still haven't heard from him.”

“Am I to assume you're coming home?” I said.

“Not until after I get a report from you,” he said. “I don't want to miss this conference if he's fucking fine. And I don't want to sit on a flight to LA for fourteen hours not knowing what the fuck is going on.”

“I'm sure he's fine,” I said.

“Yeah, well.” I heard him light a cigarette. I wondered if he'd been smoking since our first call.

**

A fucking penthouse apartment. Like, is that really necessary? What's wrong with some other floor? Don't they want to save any money at all for Gus?

I rode up in the elevator, feeling very underdressed in my sweats, and unlocked the door of the apartment. All the lights were off, which wasn't too surprising given it was four in the fucking morning. I flicked the first light switch I could find on and off a few times and left it on. “Justin, it's me,” I said, even though he couldn't hear me, because...I don't know. No reason not to say it, right?

God, this place was fancy. That couch probably cost more than my mortgage. And Christ, look at that size of the TV...

I heard a shuffling from the bedroom and then Justin was there, leaning against the open doorway, looking confused and impossibly tired.

Hi, I said. Are you okay?

“Where's Brian?” he said, and his voice sounded wrong, almost kind of...echoey? I don't know. Fuck Brian and his bad feelings.

I took a step towards him. He's in Australia, remember?

He rubbed his forehead and didn't say anything. He used his left arm, his right one hanging limply at his side.

He said you told him you weren't feeling well, I said.

“I don't remember,” he said quietly, and then he turned abruptly and went back into his room, walking a little strangely, like he had to drag his right foot. He collapsed heavily on top of the covers, and I followed him in. To my surprise he grabbed me immediately and pulled me down on the bed, resting his head against my chest. “Head hurts,” he said.

I tried to sign where he could see me. You know I'm not Brian, right?

“Shut up, Michael,” he said with a sigh, and then he was asleep. Fuck, that was weird.

I put my hand on top of his head and called Brian. He picked up right away.

“Yeah, I think you want to come back,” I said.

“Don't you fucking lead with that,” he said, his voice tight. “Tell me what's going on.”

“He's really out of it. He didn't remember where you were.”

He sighed. “Yeah, that's a seizure.”

“He says his head hurts.”

“You think he hit it?”

“I don't think so. There's no blood or anything.”

“Why the fuck hasn't he been answering his phone?”

“I think he's just been sleeping. He's asleep again already. I can try to wake him up—”

“No, no. He needs to sleep right now. How's his hand?”

“It's...kind of like the whole right side of his body isn't working right.”

I expected that to really freak Brian out—God knows I was freaked out, but he just kind of sighed and went, “Yeah, that means it was a bad one. God, and he was alone...”

“I think he's okay.”

“Yeah. All right, let him sleep. My flight's in four hours, I'll call before I get on.”

**

I must have fallen asleep there for a little while, but I woke up a few hours later to the sun coming in the curtains. Justin was still asleep on top of me, brow furrowed, looking uncomfortable. I figured he could probably use some water, and lord knows I needed some coffee, so I carefully slid out from underneath him and went to the kitchen. God, what a kitchen.

The coffee was halfway through brewing when I heard unsteady footsteps and the sound of Justin vomiting in the bathroom. I'm not exactly squeamish; my husband and my son have HIV, things happen, but they usually like their privacy, and I had no idea what Justin wanted right now. Fuck, Justin probably had no idea what Justin wanted right now, if he was still as confused as he was the last time he was awake.

I went into the bathroom and knelt next to him, resting my hand on his back.

He choked, spat. “Brian?” he said hoarsely. I couldn't answer until he lifted his head out of the toilet, so I just rubbed circles on his back and waited until he picked up his head to look at me. He sighed and dropped his forehead down to the toilet seat. “Not Brian.” His voice broke. “What the fuck is going on?” He took several heavy breaths. “Something's wrong with me.”

I helped him to his feet, slowly. You had a seizure and you're confused, I said. It'll wear off. Do you want to call Brian?

He spat in the sink and drank some water. “Your signing sucks.”

I know. Sorry.

“I can't even hear my voice,” he said, like it was mildly interesting, and that about stopped my heart for a second when I thought I'd have to explain to him that he was Deaf, but then I remembered that he'd just mentioned my signing so he definitely knew he was Deaf, it just wasn't all really coming together right at that moment. Plus he didn't even sound stressed about the fact that he couldn't hear his voice, so I figured I'd just let that go.

Do you want to call Brian? I said again.

“Yeah. Is he going to be here soon?”

Not for a little while. Come on, let's go back to bed and we'll call him, okay?

“I'm not a kid,” Justin said, but he listened. He was shaking too hard to manage the covers, and his right arm was still useless, so I pulled them back for him and helped him into bed. I got on top of the covers next to him and said, Come here, encouraging him to prop himself up on me.

I held the phone and video called Brian. He picked up pretty immediately, walking fast. “Hey, I just got through security,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, look who's awake.” I angled the phone so Brian could see him.

Brian smiled immediately. Hey, Sunshine.

“Hi.” Justin rested his head on my shoulder. “I don't feel good.”

I believe you. Michael didn't wake you up, did he? Brian was signing slower than he usually did with Justin, either so I could understand him or because he wanted to make sure Justin did.

“No, I had to get up and throw up.”

Seizures are fun, huh?

“God, is that what this is?”

Yeah, pretty textbook. You just don't know it because you're so out of it. Because you had a—

“—had a seizure, yeah.”

There you go. How's your head feel?

“Bad, bad, bad.”

Do you remember where you were when it happened? Do you know if you hit it? We kinda need to know if you have a concussion.

“I don't remember anything after...I don't know. Where are you?”

I'm on my way. It might come back to you.

“Yeah. I want to go to sleep now.”

You do that. If you feel like you're gonna have another one, tell Michael, okay?

“Okay.” He closed his eyes and passed the fuck out, still on my shoulder. I angled the phone back too me.

“Still pretty out of it, huh?” Brian said, breezing through the terminals.

“That's the most lucid he's been so far.”

“Sometimes his vision goes for a while after a bad one. That's when he really freaks out.”

“Yeah, I imagine.”

Brian looked about as tired as I felt.

I looked at Justin's head on my shoulder. “I think he has a fever. He feels really warm.”

“Well, that would explain the seizure, then. Don't medicate him, he's allergic to a ton of shit.”

“He's not gonna have another one, is he?”

Brian shrugged. “Sometimes they come in waves, and he probably missed a dose of his meds in all the excitement. Make sure he takes them when he gets up.”

“You just said don't medicate him...”

“Well, if it's in a prescription bottle with his name on it, you can probably trust that it's safe,” Brian snapped. Fair enough. “And when he's a little less out of it he has to call his neurologist.”

“He has to call him?”

“What, you think I make his phone calls for him? Yes, he has to call him.”

“I...okay.”

“I did go ahead and text his boss for him, so you can tell him that when he freaks out about work. My flight lands in LA in about fourteen hours,” he said. “I'll call then, then it's another five.”

“Okay.”

He sighed and rubbed his face. “Thanks for doing this, Mikey.”

I shrugged a little. I'm always uncomfortable when Brian gets sincere. “He's my friend.”

Brian nodded. “I know.”

**

The next thing I knew he was shaking me. “Michael? Michael.” I was still half asleep and confused about why Ben sounded so weird, but then I remembered where I was and sat up.

What's wrong?

Justin shook his head. “I don't feel right.”

I took a deep breath. “Okay.” I leaned back against the headboard and headboard and eased him back into me. “Okay, it's okay.” He couldn't hear me, but he couldn't see me sign in this position either, so I hoped just feeling my voice might be comforting, I don't know.

“Can you call Brian?” he said. His eyes were squeezed shut, so I didn't have to think of some way to cover for the fact that Brian's first plane wouldn't land for another eleven hours. I lay my hand across his forehead and tried to remember everything I knew about seizures, which wasn't much. I'd never seen Justin have anything other than the tiny ones that were just his hand. I didn't even know those were seizures until recently.

This one came quickly, and it wasn't much more than that, it turned out. Justin's arm twitched, and he hid his face with his hand and tucked himself into my side. I kept petting his hair, and when it was over, Justin turned onto his back and let out a deep breath.

“That was okay,” he said.

Should we go to the hospital?

“No, I'm okay.” He sat up, slowly. “That wasn't like the last one.”

Right, well, maybe we should still go to the hospital for the last one.

“I need to take my meds,” he said. “I'm behind.” He breathed out. “God, this is not right.”

He couldn't navigate the nightstand well with half of his body still fucked up, so I read the labels on his prescription bottles and shook out a few pills. He took them, but it looked like it was hard for him to swallow.

You have a fever, I said. Probably part of why you feel so fucked up.

He nodded and lay back on the bed. “It's good Brian isn't here,” he said. “It's good. He shouldn't have to see this.”

I brushed his hair off his forehead. It was getting long again.

He opened his eyes. “How long until Brian gets here?” he said.

**

“He was pretty alert after that last one,” I said into the phone as I paced around the living room. “So I think the one he was alone for that really fucked him up...that must have been like a completely different thing.”

“What does Brian say?” Ben asked.

“He's still on the plane, he won't be able to talk for another like ten hours. I don't even know what to do with him until then. He says he doesn't need to go to the hospital, and I forgot to ask Brian...”

“What's he doing now?”

“Sleeping, he mostly just sleeps. And then wakes up and asks where Brian is.”

“I'm sure he's grateful you're there,” Ben said. “You're a pretty good nurse.”

“Sure, with you. You can hear me when I talk to you. Justin's too out of it to look at me half the time. I'm not even positive he knows who I am. I'm pretty sure he'd cuddle with the Grim Reaper if he showed up right now.”

“Well, we'll keep that one on the back burner,” Ben said.

I heard shuffling in the bedroom and said, “I think he's up, I gotta go.”

“All right. Keep me posted. I love you.”

“I love you,” I said, and then it struck me that Justin and Brian had hung up earlier without either of them saying it. God, and when Brian was literally across the world and Justin was all sick and shit! I will never understand these two. I hung up the phone just as Justin made his way to the doorway of the bedroom. Hey, I said, and he looked so fucking pitiful that I instinctively offered my arms, and he came over and gave me a hug. He felt really young, all soft and sweaty in his pajamas.

“I'm hungry,” he said into my shoulder.

I pulled back a little. You're still really hot. How about some toast?

He nodded heavily.

Okay, come on. I went to the kitchen and dug around and he sat on one of the stools at the bar. Don't fall off that, I said.

He slumped over the counter. “I won't.” He rubbed his face. “God.”

Are you feeling any better?

“I think I'm more aware of how shitty I feel, so...yes?”

You're definitely a lot more aware than you have been.

“What the fuck happened?” he said. “How did you even get here? Did I know you were coming?”

You texted Brian that you thought you were going to have a seizure, and then he couldn't get in touch with you, so he called me and told me to come.

Justin frowned and dug his phone out of his pocket, scrolled through it, laughed a little. “What I actually said, apparently, was 'Hey I know you're in a meeting but I have that falling feeling don't freak out I just want to sleep.' Aaaaand I have twenty million texts from him. Damn, he was pissed.” He rubbed his face. “Um, where is he now?”

Plane.

Justin groaned. “He's coming back? God, this conference was so important...”

Justin, you're like, very sick right now. He's got to come back.

He sighed and propped his head up in his hand. “You've talked to him? How does he sound?”

You talked to him too.

“I did? Damn.”

I put a plate of toast in front of him. He's been staying pretty calm, actually. I mean, he's worried about you, obviously, but I don't think he's panicking.

He rested his head on the counter. “He always surprises people with that. They expect him to become a basket case when something's wrong with me but he's pretty rational about it unless I'm like, actually dying. So then people give him shit about being cold...”

You're supposed to eat that.

He sighed. “I know. Oh, God, fuck. I'm supposed to be at work.”

Brian texted your boss.

Justin snorted, then rubbed his head like it hurt. “Bet that went over well.”

Lindsay said you got a job at a gallery?

“Yeah, I'm the assistant to the owner. The pay is kind of ridiculous. I mean, Brian still thinks it's a joke, but I've never earned this kind of money in my life. And she gave me a key to this studio space downtown so I can stop making Brian flinch thinking I'm going to drip paint on the hardwood.” He took a bite of toast and chewed slowly.

That was good, I said. Very...I don't know the sign.

“Cognizant?”

...Okay, now I don't know the English.

Justin laughed a little. “I really don't remember anything after...what's today?”

Thursday.

“God. I think my last memory is sometime Tuesday night. I lost a whole day. And I must have gone to work and shit on Wednesday...I just lost all of it.”

Maybe it'll come back to you.

He shrugged. “Maybe. Not like it really matters.”

Brian was all on my case about finding out details about the seizure.

“Yeah, unfortunately I think those are lost to the sands of time.” He drank the juice I gave him, still doing everything left-handed. “He just wants to know if I fell, really. A couple years ago I got some tiny concussion when Brian—so this was his fault, mind you—dropped a fucking shelf on my head, and my neurologist was all fearmongery about how I couldn't have any more head trauma or I could like, die or whatever.”

He said you have to call your neurologist.

He nodded tiredly. “Yeah, I'll schedule a MRI just in case.”

So, um...how do you do that?

“How do I get an MRI? There's not a lot of audience participation involved.”

No, the phone call.

“Oh, I call a service and they connect me to an interpreter who works like a go-between. They speak, interpreter signs, I sign, interpreter speaks. Or I can speak, but sometimes that's more confusing for everyone.”

Sounds complicated.

He shrugs. “Gotta make calls. I use it all the time at work.”

I just figured...

He gave me a look. “What, that I have hearing people do that shit for me? That Brian's my personal secretary?” He rolled his eyes. “Get real.”

Well, you know, you keep him from self-destructing into a pile of whiskey and cigarettes and STDs. Figured he did something to return the favor.

Justin shrugged uncomfortably. “I don't do anything for him.”

I tilted my head and looked at him.

“Cut it out,” Justin said. “You look like your mom.”

You really don't get it, do you?

“I'm postictal. I don't get anything.”

P-o-s-t...what?

He waved his hand. “Don't worry about it.”

You also have a fever of like a hundred and twelve.

“Yeah, I think I have a sinus infection.” He finished the toast. “Thank you. That was good.” He paused, chewing on the inside of his mouth. “How long until Brian's here?”

His connection's in LA. He'll land there around ten tonight, our time. Then another five hours after he gets on his next flight. I don't know how long his layover is.

Justin smiled a little. “That was good. You signed that really well.”

That's not what you said earlier.

“Yeah, I'm an asshole after seizures. Brian says I called him an ugly old man one time.”

I laughed. Oh my God.

“Yeah, don't try to get me to lie down if I don't want to lie down, apparently. And with that I'm going to lie down.”

You need anything?

He shook his head as he got to his feet, swaying a little. “Thanks for being here, though. Sorry I'm not really showing you New York.”

I've seen it.

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge, and the TV...”

Justin. He looked like he was about to fucking collapse right there. Go lie down.

He laughed a little, went back to bed, and slept through the rest of Brian's first flight.

**

Brian looked, frankly, like shit when he video called me from LA. He was still in his suit, but it was a wrinkly mess right now, and he looked like he hadn't gotten any sleep on the plane. He slumped in his chair in some terminal and said, “How is he? I am going to kill him for letting fucking LA people see me like this. Tell him to kiss his dreams of moving back here someday goodbye. I can never be seen in this town again.”

“He's doing better,” I said. “He's definitely still feverish and he had another seizure a couple hours into your flight, and his hand's been twitching a lot in his sleep, I don't know if that...”

Brian blew out a mouthful of air. “Yeah, I might have to take him in when I get there. We'll see.” God, I didn't know how he was planning to get through a trip to the hospital after about twenty-four hours of no sleep.

“I can do it,” I said. “If you think I should.”

“No, it might not be necessary, and I don't want to do it if we don't need to. I'll...y'know. Assess when I get there.”

“See if you have a bad feeling?”

“I guess,” he said with a dramatic shrug, and something about that was weirdly...bonding, like Brian was just as baffled by his connection to Justin as the rest of us were.

“Do you want me to wake him up?”

Brian sighed. “He needs to sleep...but yeah, fuck it, I just sat through that whole fucking flight. He'll deal. Wake him up.”

I went into the bedroom, turned on the light, and gave Justin a gentle shake. He took a long time to wake up, blinking blankly up at me.

Hi, I said. You know what's going on?

He nodded, but he looked unsure. He raised his hand to start to sign but just looked at it. “My fingers don't work.”

It's getting better. You couldn't pick it up last time you woke up.

“Where's Brian?”

I held up the phone to him and Justin struggled to sit up. I helped him, and sat down next to him to hold the phone.

Sunshine, you look like such crap, Brian said.

Justin yawned. “You're one to talk.”

Michael's saying you might need to go to the hospital, Brian said. Thoughts on that?

“Not without you,” Justin said sleepily.

Open your eyes. I can't talk to you if you don't...Michael. Make him open his eyes.

I shook him a little, and Justin groaned and looked at the phone. “Are you in Australia?” he said.

I was. I'm in LA now. Almost home. That's good you remembered. I heard him breathe out. You look really sick.

Justin sat himself up some more. “I'm okay, really.”

Ew, fuck, don't do that brave Tiny Tim thing.

Justin laughed a little and slumped back down. “Fine.” Brian laughed too.

Hand still fucked up? Brian asked.

He nodded. “Did you really text Marie?”

Yeah. She's very concerned. I think she's gonna mother the shit out of you when you go back in, so get ready for that.

Justin groaned. “As long as that involves food. Or maybe a bonus check.”

That's right, Sunshine, milk it.

“You're being very affectionate in front of Michael,” Justin said lazily. “He's gonna catch on that you have a crush on me if you keep this up.”

I can't help it, you look like fucking Typhoid Mary over there.

Justin shook his head. “No, she didn't get sick, that was her thing. She just got everybody else sick.”

Okay, fine, you look like literally everyone except Typhoid Mary.

Justin chuckled. “Better.”

Don't fucking croak until I get there, okay? I already paid for Michael's flight up there, I'm not paying for his therapy too.

Justin stretched. “I'll try.”

You're messing with your ears a lot, do they hurt? Brian said. I'd noticed that too.

“They feel kind of...full.”

Brian paused. Is that normal? I don't know how your ears usually feel.

“Me neither.”

We can just cut them off. It's not like you're using them.

Justin lay down. “Okay.”

Drink some water, Brian signed, gently.

Justin closed his eyes. “Okay. Stop being sweet in front of Michael.”

**

We ended up moving to the couch, because Justin said he wanted to be awake when Brian got there. He considered showering, but I told him I didn't want to have to burst in there and scoop his naked body off the floor, and he agreed that sounded really unpleasant, so he settled for changing into clean pajamas and washing his face. Brett Keller had a new movie out, so we turned that on and compared it unfavorably to what Rage would have been like. Justin was starting to cough a lot, so I made tea.

“Working on that movie was the most fucking fun I've ever had,” Justin said. “I missed Brian, but...God. I never would have thought I'd fit in in LA.” He paused. “I probably wouldn't anymore.”

Because you're Deaf?

“Yeah. People there don't really slow down for you.”

You're doing okay here.

He shrugged. “I just got here. Kind of early to know how I'm doing.”

I seem to recall something about a very well paying job.

He grinned. “I guess. I just need to find a director who knows sign language and I'm set.”

Could happen. Drink your tea.

He did, and eventually fell back asleep with his head on my knee. It occurred to me as he was sleeping that this had to be the longest time Justin and I had ever spent just the two of us. Definitely since he lost his hearing, at least. When Brian had called me asking me to come up, I'd expected it to be so awkward, for Justin to reject my help and for us to spend the whole time finding something to snark about like we sort of often do, but this reminded me...I don't know, that no matter how much Justin annoys me sometimes, no matter how often I think nostalgically about the days of me and Brian versus the world...friendship just happens, whether you want it to or not. Justin and I were maybe the clearest example of that I'd ever seen. I remember the night he was bashed, all I was thinking about was Brian, and was Brian going to be okay if Justin didn't make it, and then when we found out he was going to be okay...God, I had this moment where finally it was about Justin, and I realized somehow along the way I'd started giving a shit about the kid. And now, eight years later here he was asleep on my fucking lap, and I was rubbing his back wondering how high his fever was.

Time just fucking...happens to you.

Finally, at four in the fucking morning, I heard Brian's key in the lock and I gently woke Justin and sat him up. He rubbed his eyes and coughed while I went and greeted Brian at the door.

“Hey, here,” I said, taking his suitcase away from him. Brian gave me a tired nod and took his jacket off, his face relaxing a little as he looked at Justin on the couch. Justin's face broke into a smile, and Brian crossed the floor and knelt in front of the couch, his hand on the back of Justin's neck, and touched their foreheads together. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“How was the flight?” Justin said.

Brian pulled back a little. Fine. He looked him over. God, look at you, you are so sick, he said, but the expression on his face was so strange. Like it was kind of vaguely funny that Justin was so sick, like some inside joke only the two of them were in on.

Justin shook his head a little, smiling. “I know, it's ridiculous.”

I'm going to have to take you to the hospital, you look like you're about to fucking die.

“Urgent care tomorrow,” Justin said. “Sleep some.”

Brian kissed his forehead. Okay. Christ, you're burning up.

“Yeah. I can move my hand now, though.”

Good, we're going to need that later. Okay, ready?

Justin nodded, and Brian smoothly slipped his arm under Justin's legs and lifted him up into his arms. Justin tucked his face into Brian's neck on their way to their room.

I said, “Brian, you need anything? Something to eat?”

“No, I'm okay.” He lay Justin on the bed and came to me and gave me a hug. “Thank you,” he said into my ear. He looked at me. “You look like shit.”

“Common thread around here.”

“The couch in the office pulls out. Get some sleep.”

God knows I needed it, but I don't know, for some reason I just stayed at their doorway for a while. Brian got out of his suit and lay next to Justin, and Justin kissed his face over and over, like Brian was the one who needed comforting. Brian closed his eyes and relaxed into it.

I'm sorry you don't feel good, Brian signed, small against his chest.

“It's okay,” Justin said quietly. “I don't mind now.”

Brian pushed his face into Justin's collarbone and took a deep breath. Justin trailed his fingers over his back.

“Did you get me anything?” Justin asked. “From Australia?”

Brian lifted his head. Yeah, I got you a kangaroo.

“Oh good.”

He palmed Justin's forehead. Next time I'll take you with me.

“And I'll throw up for fourteen hours?”

From what I hear you did that anyway.

Justin groaned and laughed and slung his leg over top of Brian, and Brian pulled him into his chest and wrapped his arms all the way around them. They were still laughing a little when I went off to the office, and God, I will never understand those two! One minute Brian's calling me all fucking panicked, and then the second the two of them are together they're laughing about it.

I fell asleep to the sound of Justin coughing and Brian murmuring little “Shh shh shhs,” that he couldn't hear. And I knew they'd be okay.