The One Where Everybody's Scared, Part 2

LaVieEnRose

So here I fucking was again. I swear, I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure I don't die in a hospital. After all the time I've spent here, with Vic, with Ben, with Hunter, and again and again, with Justin, I am not having one of these fucking hell traps be the last thing I see. Just ship my decrepit body to Bora Bora, wherever the fuck that is, and let me die on the beach. Hell, I'll die on the plane on the way to Bora Bora, I don't care. Just don't make my last sight be these goddamn walls. I would pay every cent I have left if it meant I never had to spend another day here.

And if I never have to see this kind of pain on Brian's face again, hell, I'll take that too.

This whole thing had been such a blur. One minute I'm doing inventory in the shop just after closing and my phone starts ringing, and Brian's saying, “Justin's hurt, I'm alone, I need you,” and then I'm on a plane to New York, again, because something's wrong with Justin, again, only it was so, so not like the last time. When we got here, Brian was sitting there and he didn't know anything, didn't know how long Justin was going to be in surgery, didn't know the name of his doctor, nothing, and I couldn't fucking believe it, because what had he been doing this whole time? And then I went up to the desk and started demanding information and they told me that they'd told Brian that if he didn't stop fucking harassing the staff they'd have him removed from the waiting room.

So, y'know. Still the Brian we know and love.

“Such a freak accident,” the nurse had said to me. “Really just a million to one.”

Brian's never told me what happened in much detail, the same way he's never really told me about the night Justin was bashed. And of course there's that morbid part of my brain, y'know, the part that makes me kind of crane my neck if I pass a car accident, that wants to know. It's like I think it's going to make more sense why the universe keeps doing this shit to Justin if I can picture how it actually happened, see all the details of it. But it's also like...I feel like if I could have seen Brian in those moments, I would learn more about him than I have in twenty-five years otherwise. It's like the only way I could ever really know Brian is to see him totally broken like that, and I know that's a fucked up way of thinking, but I can't help it.

Besides, it's not like I haven't seen him broken. He was a mess at the hospital after Justin was bashed, and he was a mess at his apartment when the doctor sent him home the night Ben and I came to New York. God, Ben and I tried to play it so cool, but he was scaring the shit out of me, drinking out of the bottle and making some rant that didn't even hold up. But there was still distance there, there was an element of like, thought to it, and...I don't know, some part of me just really wants to see the fucking rawness of Brian caring about Justin right in a moment. Maybe then I'd finally fucking understand how the hell we got here, waiting for this kid Brian picked up under a streetlight to wake up, sitting in his hospital room again, and again, and again.

You know what, though, is that I also really wish Justin could see him like that sometime and not be fucking unconscious every time Brian really lets go and shows that he cares about him. Although look, for all I know Brian's composing him sonnets every night anyway. Who the fuck knows what goes on with those two when no one else is around.

Anyway, so what I know is that they were making dinner and Justin was boiling water for pasta, and he had a seizure and he knocked the pot off the stove, and it burned his chest, torso, and shoulder. Brian got splashed on one arm, and he burned his hands, one of them kind of badly but not surgically bad or anything, getting the pot off of Justin and ripping through his clothes. That's what I know. And I know Brian won't come to barbecues anymore because he can't stand the smell so that's...you know. Something.

I know Brian acted really fast, or the burns could have been even worse. As it is, he got some third degree burns but mostly deep-second on about thirty percent of his body.

I know from a nurse that if they were worse, they probably would have been a lot less painful, because all the nerves would have died. She also told me that deep second-degree burns are just about the most painful injury there is.

And sitting in the hospital room the day after, I knew I had no fucking clue what was going on with Brian.

“We're supposed to stop pretending we don't have feelings about shit happening to each other,” Brian said that morning, on the way to the hospital. “We made a pact.”

Not that he could really pretend much or not pretend much with Justin right now. He'd been sleeping most of the day, just waking up every so often to have a brief, confused conversation with a very patient Brian. God, the whole situation was so fucked up. We had to wear these gowns over our clothes, and the whole unit was full of people screaming and crying. Thank fucking God Justin couldn't hear it. Ben and I were sitting by the foot of the bed, feeling awkward as shit, or at least I was, and Brian was half-sleeping, half-watching Justin in a chair up by Justin's head. Justin woke up again and looked around like it was his first time seeing the place, like he had every time he'd been up so far. It was scaring the shit out of me, but Brian said with all the medication he was on it was bound to happen. I guess a few months before they'd had to adjust Justin's anticonvulsants and he'd been on a really high dosage for a while, so Brian had some idea of what he was like on them.

Brian reached over to the bed and squeezed Justin's hand while he looked around.

What happened? Justin asked.

You got hurt, Brian said.

Bad?

Kind of.

Justin tried to sit up, and Ben and I jumped up to help stop him, but Brian was on top of it. Still, Justin noticed us, and even though he'd talked to Ben a little before, it was clear he hadn't really realized we were there. “Hi,” he said.

I said, Hey, Justin. How are you feeling?

“Okay,” he said, but with this sideways glance to Brian like he was checking to see if we were really there, like asking Brian if he saw us too. Am I dying? he asked Brian.

Brian said, No, you drama queen. When you're ready we'll have a doctor come talk to you, okay? I told them starting tomorrow no one even walks in here to take your blood pressure without an interpreter. I'm giving them a break today because you're so out of it.

“What?” Justin said.

Yeah, like that.

“Okay.” Justin cast another glance around the room, at all of us, still kind of looking like the three of us were putting on some kind of play and he wasn't sure he was into it.

“I'll be right back,” Ben said softly to me, kissing my cheek before he left the room.

Did someone hit me? Justin asked.

Brian sighed and stroked his forehead. No.

Are you mad at me?

No one's mad at you.

Justin whimpered a little and tried to roll over before Brian could stop him, and he kind of yelped and covered his face and started crying and Brian went, “Oh, oh, fuck...”

I got up and came around to Justin's other side and helped settle him back where he was. Brian took Justin's hand between both of his and kissed it.

I don't like it, Justin said.

Ben came back then, with a cup of ice chips and a spoon. He handed them to Brian, who looked confused at first but then hesitantly held a spoonful to Justin's lips, and Christ, I don't think I've ever used the words hesitantly and Brian in the same sentence before, but there we were.

Justin swallowed them slowly and closed his eyes, still crying a little. Brian fingerspelled something into his hand, I couldn't see what, and Justin shook his head, but there was a tiny bit of a smile on his face through the crying.

Justin fell back asleep, and it was a while before anybody spoke.

“I've never really seen him in pain before,” Brian said, his voice kind of blank, like it was slightly interesting but not really. “I didn't really think about it. I've seen him sick a million times. I've never really seen him in pain.”

That was going to change.

**

Two nurses came in—without an interpreter, but whatever—to change his bandages at around nine-thirty. “Twice a day,” one of them explained. “Change the dressings on the grafts and do debridement on his arm.”

“Debridement?” I asked.

Brian shook his head. “Trust me, you don't want to know.” I wondered how much time he'd already spent looking shit up. When I got here last night, he already knew about mesh grafts and was throwing around terms like “partial thickness burns” like some kind of expert.

Ben said, “Do we need to step outside?”

“Actually it can be helpful to have loved ones here,” the nurse said. “Having burn dressings changed is...unpleasant, to say the least, and family can be a big comfort.” He looked at Brian. “Plus, you'll be doing this once he goes home, so you'll need to learn how sooner or later.”

Brian nodded shortly.

The nurse said, “It's good if someone takes his hands.”

“He...” Brian cleared his throat. “He needs them, he hates that. He's Deaf, if I take his hands he can't...”

“We need to make sure he doesn't touch the wounds,” the nurse said gently. “And he might have a hard time staying still."

Ben came around on Justin's other side. “You hold his hands, Brian, okay?” he said. “I'll make sure he doesn't move.”

“Okay,” Brian said, and God, I just felt so fucking useless, standing there and really, really not wanting to see what was under the bandages, except for that sick part of my brain that I mentioned that absolutely did. And Brian and Ben were just being so fucking capable, and I felt like...I don't know, like someone's kid brother that got dragged along because there was no one to babysit him. I wasn't helping. I was just taking up space.

Justin started to wake up as the nurses carefully pulled down his gown. He looked at Brian fearfully.

It's okay, Brian signed, Justin's hands tucked under his elbow. Use your voice if you want.

Justin looked down at the bandages. “Oh, wow.”

You don't have to look, Brian said.

The nurses were keeping up this ongoing chant of, “It's okay, Justin, doing great, Justin, we're just going to check the bandages now, just going to unwind this here,” and the more they talked the more and more agitated Brian was getting. Justin, of course, had no idea what was going on, and he kept trying to get free so Brian had to keep grabbing his hands, which made it pretty impossible to sign to him.

Justin looked at me, and I tried to give him a reassuring smile, and he tried to give me one back, and then the nurse started to peel the gauze off of Justin's abdomen, and he gasped.

“I know, Justin,” one of the nurses said. “I know it hurts.”

Justin tried to twist towards Brian, but Ben held him still, and Justin made this noise like a trapped animal and all the color in Brian's face just disappeared. He got down lower towards the bed and signed with Justin's hands against his forehead: I know I know I know.

The nurses had a basin of water, and they wet a piece of gauze and held it to Justin's stomach, and that's when he screamed.

If you've never heard a person scream who has no idea what they sound like, who is in such tremendous goddamn pain that they probably wouldn't care what they sounded like anyway...I don't think I can describe it to you.

Brian mentioned to me offhand years later that he still hears it in his nightmares.

The nurses kept working, not shaken at all, and Ben was a rock, putting firm pressure on Justin's shoulders and not taking his eyes off his face for a second, but Brian...well. Brian was falling apart. I think he would have tried harder to keep it together if Justin was watching him, but Justin wasn't fucking watching anyone, he was crying and screaming and trying so hard to get away from the hands on him, and Brian was sweaty and shaky and Ben realized what was about to happen about a second before I did. He pried Justin's hands away from Brian—Brian did not let go easy—and said, “Michael, get him outside now.”

Finally, something I could do. I grabbed Brian by the elbow and we stripped off our gowns and gloves as fast as we could and got out of the room. “Hang on hang on hang on,” I said to Brian, and I managed to vault him over to the nearest trash can before he threw up.

He sank to the floor, his head in his hands, and I got him some water and reassured a watching nurse that he was okay.

“I have to go back, I have to go back with him,” Brian said.

“Ben has him. Take a minute.”

Brian sipped his water, panting. God, I'd never seen him look that sick, not even when he had cancer.

“That is fucked up,” Brian said eventually. “I've never heard him do that.”

“God. Yeah.”

Brian leaned back against the wall, sweat and tears dripping down his face. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he whispered, and squeezed his eyes closed when we could hear Justin's screaming reach a new pitch. “How does it fucking not sound like him and exactly like him at the exact same fucking...”

“I know.”

“Don't those fucking drugs do anything?” he said. He held out his hand. “Don't answer that.”

“He's going to be okay.”

Brian looked at me like I was stupid. “I know he's going to be okay,” he said. “But he's not okay now.”

Brian threw up again a minute later, so we didn't end up going back into Justin's room until after the dressings were changed. The nurses were gone, and Ben was crouched by the bed, signing small and slow to Justin, who was lying on his side now. Brian and I put on new gowns and gloves, and Ben said, Brian's back. He's coming. He stepped out of the way when Brian came around in front of Justin.

Brian examined the bed and figured out how to lower the sides, then very, very carefully lay down next to Justin, facing him. Ben and I stood at the foot of the bed, his hand on Justin's leg, mine on Brian's. I don't really know why. It just felt right at the time.

Justin was tear-stained and weak, but not crying anymore. And not screaming. Hi, he said.

Hi, Sunshine. You with me?

Yeah.

Brian nudged the oxygen mask off and kissed him, really gently, and Justin kissed back. It must have been their first kiss since before it all happened, and I could almost see the relief building in both of them, covering them like a blanket.

Brian pulled back a little and said, Can I get you anything? You want some more ice?

Justin nodded, and Brian reached behind him to the nightstand and fed him a few more ice chips. Justin sighed as he swallowed.

Your morphine's maxed out, Brian said. Sorry. I can talk to them...

It's okay, Justin said. Are you okay?

Brian ran his fingers through Justin's hair. In the interest of full disclosure, he said, I will be honest and tell you that I'm having feelings about this whole situation here.

Justin smiled, and then laughed, and then winced, and Brian said, “Oh,” and cupped the back of his head.

I love you, Justin said, and Brian closed his eyes and basked in it, like a cat soaking up the sun.

Go back to sleep, he said to Justin, and Justin did.

**

Ben had to step outside a little while later because Justin's mom came and there's a three visitor limit, and Ben said I should stay with Brian. She hugged Brian as soon as she came in, and I was surprised by how tightly Brian hugged back. Between her now and Daphne last night...I don't know, I don't know why it never occurred to me that Brian had let Justin's people into his life that much. I guess I thought Justin's people were just Justin's people, and then us and the rest of the family were for both of them. I guess that's not how it works most of the time. Ben and I have dinner with some of his friends sometimes, but he doesn't really have a tight-knit group the way I do, so it made sense that he'd mostly just fold into ours. But Justin...I mean, if is friends rushing to the hospital in the middle of the night last night are anything to go by...Justin's got a group too, and I guess it makes sense that Brian's involved in that. And it probably shouldn't fill me with panic that I'm losing Brian, but...that wasn't really important right then.

Jennifer pulled back, and she and Brian were both crying, just a little bit, and they kind of laughed a little and then Jennifer went over by the bed. She put her hand on his forehead, and he opened his eyes and smiled, and she signed kind of haltingly to him, but it was enough, I think. Brian drifted over to the foot of the bed and sat next to me in Ben's empty seat.

“She was in California with the new boyfriend,” Brian explained to me softly.

“Have you met him?” I don't, it just seemed like a nice service to offer Brian literally anything else to talk about.

“Yeah, he seems nice. Justin likes him. Molly has an attitude about him, but she has an attitude about everything.”

“She's not here?”

Brian shook his head. “Away at camp. Jen didn't want to tell her.”

“Have you told everyone else yet?” I asked.

“I figured you had.”

“They'd be calling you every ten seconds if I had.”

“Deb's gonna shit when she finds out we didn't tell her right away.”

“God, I know. I'll handle it.”

“Oh, really? You will? Gee, thanks, Mikey.”

I rolled my eyes.

“I didn't think you'd noticed how much I have on my plate right now. I'm truly touched.”

“You're such an ass.”

He shook his head, watching Justin, his smile slowly fading. “God. I can't believe they have to do that to him twice a day. You'd think they could knock him out or something.”

“This nurse told me yesterday that second-degree burns are the most painful injury there is.”

“Thanks,” Brian said. “Thanks for that.”

“No problem.”

“I've got to get Stephanie here,” Brian said.

“Who?”

“Our interpreter, we use her at Kinnetik and Justin has her at art functions sometimes. She's done a few doctor's appointments for us but she always complains because she doesn't like doing medical work. Sure she'll love this! I'm gonna have to buy her the world's best Christmas present...”

“Doesn't the hospital have interpreters?”

“I'm not taking chances with that shit.” He gestured towards the bed. “He still doesn't know what happened to him, you know. I don't even think he knows for sure those are burns.”

“Why don't you just interpret?”

“Not a good enough signer,” Brian said.

“Come on.”

He shrugged easily. “I'm not. Besides, it sucks. Imagine Ben's lying there getting bad news from a doctor, and instead of sitting next to him fucking...dealing with it with him, you have to stand next to the doctor and repeat everything he's saying word for word. And you're the one he hears all that bad news from.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. I'm gonna pay someone, and I'm gonna sit and hold his hand. That's what I do.”

“Brian?” Justin said from the bed. Brian's mouth quirked, an involuntary smile, and he stood up and went towards the bed.

Yeah?

“Can you tell me what happened? I asked Mom, and...”

Jennifer laughed self-consciously. “I don't think my signing's up to explaining. I'm just confusing him more.”

Brian sat down by the bed. That's not hard. He's pretty easily confused right now.

“Shut up, at least I'm awake,” Justin said.

Brian looked at him and then took one of his hands in his. Okay, he said, one-handed, bandage still wrapped against his palm. And he told Justin briefly and unemotionally what happened—the seizure, the water, the ambulance, the surgery. Jennifer knew it all already, I could tell, but she still got distressed as she listened and eventually excused herself and stepped out. Justin looked like he wanted to fucking follow her or something, and Brian said, She's fine, give her a minute.

God, Justin said. I am so fucking sorry.

I'm still amazed by what Brian said next. Not that it was this grand sweeping speech or something thing or anything, just that it was...so exactly the perfect thing to say in that moment, and it somehow, like...it summed up so much shit in so few words, it meant all these different things. And it was exactly what Justin needed to hear, and it still wasn't some platitude, or some non-Brian reassuring bullshit that would have felt like it was coming from someone else. And it was also, I knew it, Brian knew it, Justin knew it, one hundred percent fucking true.

He said, I am really, really glad I was there.

Justin held him.

**

“What the fuck do you mean, this happened yesterday? This happened yesterday and you're telling me now?”

I winced, holding the hospital phone away from my ear. “Christ, Ma, will you stop shouting?”

“Well, where the fuck is Sunshine? Do the video call, let me see him!”

“He's sleeping,” I said. “I'm out in the waiting room.”

“Well...well I'm gonna come up there! And I'll bring Emmett, and Mel and Lindsay, and...”

Brian had told me no fucking way to that one already. “Ma, it's already crowded as shit here. Jennifer just arrived, and Ben and I are here, and they've got Justin's friends here in New York, and Brian...”

“God, poor Brian. How's he doing?”

“Um...surprisingly okay,” I said. “He's dealing with it. I can't believe I just said those words about Brian.”

“Don't you let him fuck this up,” Mom said. “Justin's got enough to worry about without Brian fucking bailing on him again.”

“He's not going to bail on him.”

“Yeah, we'll see.” She sniffed. “Well. I'm gonna overnight them some lemon bars.”

“I'm sure they'll appreciate that,” I said. I glanced over at Justin's room and saw through the window what definitely looked like Brian arguing with a doctor, so I said, “Ma? I gotta go. I'll talk to you later,” and hung up before she could object.

Ben had gone back to Brian's place to get some work done for his substitute and make a meal or two for Brian and Justin, so it was just Jennifer and Brian in the room with Justin. Justin was awake, and they'd raised his bed a little so he wasn't completely flat anymore, which did a lot to make him look more alive. He still had the oxygen mask on, and at the moment he was just watching Brian.

“Turn around and get an interpreter,” Brian said.

The doctor said, “We really need to discuss this—”

“No,” Brian said.

Jennifer said, “Brian, maybe you can just—”

“No,” Brian said again. “Justin gets to know this at the same time we do. Turn around and get an interpreter before you talk to us.”

The doctor sighed and left, and Brian sat down by the bed and took out his phone.

Justin waved for his attention. What are you doing?

Texting Stephanie and telling her I'll pay her triple if she gets here in the next ten minutes.

Do you think something's wrong? Justin asked.

No, Brian said. I think you're sitting right in front of me and you're fine.

Sometimes I think that's really how Brian's mind works, that he divides Justin's health into two categories, fine and not fine, and the only real determining factor is whether or not Brian can touch him.

Although it was hard to ignore the way Brian's eyes snapped up when Justin coughed a minute later, and the look he exchanged with Jennifer.

Sure enough, that was the issue. Brian's phone buzzed—under ten minutes later—and he kissed Justin's cheek and stepped outside and a few minutes later was back with the doctor and a woman who I presumed was Stephanie. Justin gave her a little wave, and the two of them had a brief, much-too-fast-for-me conversation before Brian nodded to the doctor to speak.

“So we have your latest test results,” the doctor said. “And your lung function is a littler lower than we would like.”

That happened last time and it was fine, Brian said, at the same time Jennifer said, “Last time he was under anesthesia we had the same issue.”

I don't remember, Justin said.

Brian placed a hand on top of his head. Your brains were scrambled, he said, and Justin smiled a little and knocked his hand away.

“It's something we need to keep an eye on given the potential for infection after burns like these,” the doctor said. “Especially considering we aren't able to do the usual IV antibiotics given Justin's drug allergies.”

“He's not on antibiotics?” Jennifer asked.

“He is, but they're not as strong as the ones we would usually use.”

You delicate little princess, Brian said to Justin.

Bite me, Justin said. I knew Brian was being flippant to try to keep Justin from getting worried, so Justin must have known too, but it looked like it was working anyway.

Brian turned to the doctor. So what do we do?

The doctor did a good job keeping his eyes on Brian and not on Stephanie. “We keep an eye on it, for now,” he said. “We're going to increase the flow of oxygen through the mask to keep his levels up, and Justin, you're going to need to concentrate on taking big, deep breaths, making sure air keeps flowing through those lungs, okay?”

Okay, Justin said.

“If everything goes well, we'll have you transferred out of the ICU and into a regular room in two or three days,” the doctor said. “Then you'll have more room for all your many visitors.”

Justin smiled a little, took a deep breath, nodded. If everything goes well.

The doctor nodded. “That's right.”

But of course, that's not what happened.

**

That evening was a weird mix of moods, because Jennifer went back to her hotel and Justin was a little more awake and aware and joking around a bit, so in that way everything felt kind of peaceful, but as we got closer to the time he was going to have his bandages changed again, Brian kinda started unraveling. I went down to the cafeteria and got us something to eat—Justin wasn't eating yet, and joked that for once Brian couldn't nag him about it—but Brian mostly just picked at his and watched the clock. Justin didn't seem worried about it at all, and Brian took that to mean, he mentioned during one of Justin's still-frequent naps, that he was still too out of it to really remember it from earlier, but I think he was just staying calm for Brian's sake.

About an hour before he was due to be tortured again, his friends showed up, and that did a lot to brighten up both of them. Brian's always liked seeing people fawn over Justin, loves going to his art shows and seeing people grovel, so watching Daphne and these two other kids—Derek and Emily, they introduced themselves to me—fuss over him was good for his mood. And they did a good job of not getting too morose and serious. Daphne probably coached them. She was in med school, then—now she's some big hot shot doctor—so she was easily the most comfortable person in the room.

Derek and Emily were both Deaf, and they complimented me on my signing, which was nice, even if it made Brian roll his eyes and then sign faster, like he was showing off, but whatever. He and Emily had a pretty hilarious rapport, which was especially funny since she's about the size of his pinky and completely not intimidated. And he and Daphne, of course, have had some kind of unspoken bond ever since their first night at the hospital together. She hung out with Justin mostly, asking him questions—totally not medical questions either, just like, stuff about TV and how his big painting was going—but after a while she made eye contact with Brian and somehow that was enough for him to know to meet her at the foot of the bed while Derek and Emily talked to Justin.

“The nurse said he's getting his bandages changed soon,” she said to him, softly. “Do you want me to stick around for that?”

“Fuck,” Brian said, and he grabbed her and hugged her so, so hard. Daphne chuckled.

Brian made it all the way to the end of the dressing change process before he threw up this time, so that felt like progress.

**

Once again, they wouldn't let Brian stay the night, which he seemed close to accepting until the on-call doctor made the mistake of mentioning offhand that the nurses would be checking Justin periodically throughout the night. I guess he thought Brian would find that reassuring.

“And an interpreter's going to go in with them every time?” Brian said. We were already in the waiting room, having been escorted out of Justin's room for the night. He and Justin had said a very quick, very unemotional goodnight, Justin clinging a little to Brian's shirt, Brian kissing his nose and instructing him to keep breathing.

The doctor sighed. “The nurses have a lot of patients, I can't expect them to wait around for an interpreter to be available. They'll only be in Justin's room for a minute each time.”

“And if he has a question during that minute, he's supposed to...what? If they have some sort of instruction for him, he just guesses what they're saying?”

“We'll have an interpreter with me every time I go in,” the doctor said. “I'll be doing any major updates.”

Brian shook his head. “I'll stay here.”

“As we've told you—”

“I get it,” Brian said. “Not in his room. I'll stay here.” He sat down in a chair in the waiting room. “And before anyone goes into Justin's room, they let me know and I'll come in and interpret.”

“I thought you hated interpreting,” I said.

Brian shrugged, still watching the doctor. “Desperate times.”

The doctor sighed. “I'll have an orderly get you a blanket and a pillow.”

Brian smiled.

“I can stay...” I said as the doctor walked away.

“No.” Brian got up and kissed me. “Go back. See Ben. Get some sleep.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure.” He took a deep breath. “I'll be here.”

**

Ben hugged me as soon as I walked in the door. “How is he?”

“Uh, he screamed a little less tonight, so that's good. Daphne and those kids from last night came to see him. And Jennifer kept her cool okay, but you can tell she really fucking hates hospitals at this point. Hard to blame her.” I took of my shoes and accepted the plate of food Ben shoved at me, eating without even really looking at it. “They're worried about Justin's breathing or something.”

“Is he okay?”

“He seems okay to me. Brian's going to camp out in the waiting room all night. We're going to need to figure out some kind of better solution, he can't do this every night. And we're gonna have to go back to Pittsburgh at some point.”

“We can worry about that when the time comes.”

“Very zen.”

“Well.” He kissed me.

We sat on the couch and turned the TV to whatever was on and just tried to decompress for a while before we got up and took a shower and fell onto the pull-out couch in the office. It was weird, how quickly I felt so far away from the hospital and everything that was happening there. It was like once I wasn't right by it, it was impossible to believe that something that intense was actually happening to people who I know, and love. I answered some texts from people at home, updating them on Justin, texted Brian to tell him goodnight, and fell asleep in Ben's arms.

Brian was out in the waiting room when we showed up at the hospital the next morning, pacing the floor and barking orders over the phone to someone at the office despite the glares from the people sitting around him. Jennifer was sitting with Justin in his room, and there was a new sign on Justin's door, amongst the ones warning about his drug allergies, this one a piece of scrap paper with Brian's handwriting, underlined three times: “He's DEAF.”

“I don't fucking care how many times they've redone it, it's still not fucking good,” Brian said into the phone. “Get a new proof to Breyer today or start handing out pink slips.” He hung up the phone.

“Everything okay?” I said.

Brian turned to look at me, and I knew just about instantly that everything was definitely, definitely not okay.

“He has a fever,” Brian said.

**

Changing the bandages made Justin scream, and screaming made him cough, and coughing pulled the grafts on his chest, which made him scream, which made him cough...

It was a fucking nightmare.

Jen couldn't stand to be in the room with it. Ben remained a fucking rock, keeping eye contact with Justin, encouraging him to take deep breaths.

Brian held his hands and didn't look at him.

They moved Justin from the BICU to the regular Critical Care Unit because they said his infection put the other burn unit patients at risk. The look on Brian's face when Justin cried through being moved said exactly how many shits he gave about the safety of the other patients, and his new unit came with new nurses and new explanations from Brian, over and over, to them about what Justin needed. A nurse tried to give him a new medication at one point without clearing it with Justin first, and Justin completely freaked out, and I thought Brian was going to come apart right there. “Write it down, show him the label, fucking something!” Brian yelled. “You do not fucking give him anything until he tells you it's okay!”

Brian was in and out of his room dozens of times, going through gowns and gloves at some kind of record pace. He was making calls to the office, checking Justin's medication dosages, getting his chart from the nurse's station, sending his friends away, pacing the floor in front of Justin's bed.

“Come here,” Justin said, his voice wrecked from coughing, when Brian came in after reposting the “He's DEAF,” sign, now with extra underlines, on Justin's new door. Jennifer was outside calling relatives, and now that they were throwing the term “possible pneumonia” around I'd sent Ben back to the apartment, so it was just me and Justin and Brian. Justin was sitting up a little now, propped up on pillows because they were hoping it would make it easier for him to breathe.

Brian paused and looked at him, his hand over his mouth, then very carefully climbed up onto the bed beside him and eased Justin's head onto his chest. He checked his temperature with his palm, then the back of his hand, then his lips.

Shivering, Brian said, and he pulled the blanket up over Justin's body.

I'm okay.

Yeah, I know.

You need to sleep, Justin said.

How about you?

I've been sleeping all day.

Brian rested back against Justin's pillows. I can try. You have to breathe.

I can try too, Justin said.

Brian actually did fall asleep, Justin still pillowed on his chest, and Justin glanced up at him and then beckoned me over to the bed. You have to take care of him, okay?

I took a biiiiiig step back. This better not be some kind of death bed speech. Don't you fucking do that.

Justin rolled his eyes. I'm not dying. I just mean while I'm here.

You're supposed to be worried about yourself right now.

I'm an excellent multitasker. Look, everyone here is focused on me. I'm covered. Brian needs someone focused on him. He shivered and coughed, and Brian shifted a little in his sleep, pulling Justin into him.

Okay. I sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. But you better not pull any shit. Don't go taking this as me reassuring you Brian will be okay without you or something like that.

Justin smiled weakly. Like I'd ever believe that.

I ran my hand up his arm, carefully. How are you, are you okay?

He shook his head just a little, and I swallowed.

Well, you're gonna be fine, okay?

What the fuck, are you crying?

I shrugged. I kind of like you.

Justin shoved me. I love you too, you dork. Now cut it out. I'm gonna be fine. He coughed for a long time.

**

Justin had a seizure, and Brian and I were unceremoniously removed from his room. Jen watched through the window with her hands over her mouth, and Brian shook his head and hugged her against him so she couldn't see, his face unreadable.

The doctors said they were going to raise his sedation back up to keep it from happening again. They didn't want to intubate him again if they could possibly avoid it. They said with the way his lungs were right now, they didn't like Justin's chances of being able to have the tube removed.

Brian stared at them, Jennifer's small hand inside his. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means this is a balancing act,” the doctor said. “And we're going to do everything we can.”

Brian said, “You're telling me survived taking a bat to the head, losing his fucking hearing, pouring boiling water on himself, and now he's going to die from catching a fucking cold?” Jennifer made some noise in her throat, and Brian said, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. He's not going to die.”

“Putting him back under is going to give his body some time to rest,” the doctor said. “This is what he needs right now.”

Brian took a deep breath and shook his head fast, like he was clearing it of something. “I want to see him first,” he said. “Someone needs to tell him what's going on.”

I asked Brian if he wanted me to go in with him, but he said no. “I need you to handle Jennifer,” he said to be quietly. “She...I know I'm an asshole, I know, but I can't fucking deal with her right now.”

“I'll take care of it,” he said.

He ran his hand over his mouth. “I don't want any of the fucking Pittsburgh people texting me every five minutes asking me—”

“I'll take care of it.”

“And Justin's friends, I don't—”

“Brian.”

He swallowed. “You'll take care of it.”

“I'll take care of it. Go see him.”

Brian went into Justin's room, and I convinced Jennifer to go to the cafeteria for some coffee, and then I called Ben at the apartment to fill him in on what was going on. “I'm gonna try to get Brian to come home for the night,” I said. “He's falling apart, and Jennifer already said she was going to stay, and Justin's...he's not going to be awake anyway. It's not doing anybody any good having Brian keeping vigil out here another night.”

“Good luck with that,” Ben said, but it turned out Brian actually agreed really easily. I think all the fight was just drained out of him at that point. He came out of Justin's room and kind of nodded vaguely when I told him we could come back first thing in the morning, and he sat beside me in the cab like a zombie.

Ben met us at the door to the apartment, but I kind of shook my head at him and he nodded and backed off. I brought Brian to his bedroom and slowly got him out of his clothes.

“I didn't tell him I loved him,” Brian said.

“That's okay,” I said, because I had no idea what fucking else to say. I tried to imagine saying anything other than I love you to Ben in a circumstance like that. What the fuck even is there to say?

“I'm not holding it over him like that,” Brian said. “Making it so fucking...significant. It's not significant. I'm not doing that shit.”

“Okay,” I said, lost as hell.

“Anyway. He's going to live because he wants to,” Brian said. “Not because he think he fucking owes it to me. Fucker doesn't owe me shit.”

I got him out of his pants and lay him back on the bed. He grabbed at me when I went to get him some water, so I lay down next to him and he slipped his fingers through mine.

“Remember when we used to play pirates,” he said to me.

“Yeah.”

“We were always too old for that shit,” he said.

“Maybe.”

“I still think he's going to be okay,” Brian whispered. “Deep down, I really do think that.” He took a shaky breath. “That's what I told him. That I really believed it. I think he knew I meant it. He was really out of it. I don't know.”

“It's good for him to hear that.”

“Do you think I'm in denial again?” There was an edge of panic in his voice. “I'm trying not to be. I'm trying really hard.”

“No, I don't think you are.”

“Do you think I'm too old to just...believe it's going to work out?”

“No,” I said to him. “No, I think this is new.”

Brian Kinney has hope. Hope.

Kind of makes “I love you” feel sort of small, huh?

“He's not going to leave me now,” Brian said. “He's been working on the walking out thing.” Brian closed his eyes, swiped at his cheeks. “He's just sleeping.”

We lay next to each other on the bed, holding hands, staring at the ceiling. And we waited for it to be tomorrow.