How Far We've Come

LaVieEnRose

I lost most of my hearing when I was two years old. Meningitis. Since I grew up non-signing, I rely on hearing aids, which let me pick up ambient noise and sometimes, if the environment is exactly right, a word or two, but mostly just get by on lipreading, which I'm either really good at or people have just been letting me be wrong about everything they're saying for twenty-seven years.

Now I have Deaf friends and I sign, so most of my social life is through that, but I always figured when it came to work I'd spend my whole life lipreading and smiling patiently while people said my accent was so interesting and tried to guess where I was from and comforting them and promising them they weren't bad people after they realized I was Deaf, and honestly I was fine with that. And I guess assuming I'd be fine with something and then getting weirdly blindsided by some other kind of amazing alternative that I never considered is sort of the theme of this story, and I guess when it comes down to it it is, on all levels, always because of Brian.

Because, you know, enter my job at Kinnetik. Where people sign to me. And sure, most of them not very well, and I still end up doing a lot of lipreading, but even just a sign or two before they start talking to tell me what the topic is is incredibly helpful. Like this Tuesday, when Nicole signed Finished? and asked, “Are the comps for Meyers finished?”

“Meyers?” I like to double check. She nodded, and I picked up the boards for Henderson and found the Meyers comps underneath. “Yeah, Brett did the last pass this morning.”

Upstairs? she signed. Code for Brian. It is always, but always, my job to run stuff up to show Brian. I don't know how they got anything done before I got here, since they're clearly all terrified of him. I have no idea what they think our relationship is. I'm sure they'd never imagine we were together in any way or that I was with Justin, since all of them have Brian and Justin has their OTP or whatever and just the knowledge that Brian fucks around would probably make their heads explode, let alone that Justin has a boyfriend. And even then they still wouldn't understand me and Brian. I don't know. I'm scared to ask and find out they all think I'm like Brian's foster son or something.

I took the comps up the stairs, sending Justin a quick text on my way—he was still stuck at home all the time, so I tried to entertain him throughout the day however I could with dumb jokes or selfies or little anecdotes about Brian—and waved to Emily at her desk.

Out back, she said. And tell him I said he has ten minutes to get his ass back in here. We have talking points to go over before the meeting. Aside from everyone at Kinnetik knowing a few signs, the fact that I work with another Deaf person, even if it's Emily who still scares the shit out of me, is so, so cool. And then the fucking CEO is a fluent signer, like...how many other companies can say that? Clients think it's so cool, even if they have no use whatsoever for sign language, because they think it means Brian's really smart and creative. Which it does. Trust me as someone who picked up sign language as an adult: it's not easy, and Brian didn't have the natural, like, longing for it that Justin and I did. And still he's self-conscious about his signing; he hides it well, but you can tell sometimes, whenever he stumbles at all or has to ask someone to slow down he gets all sullen, and like, we all stumble and ask people to slow down sometimes.

I took the back door and went out to the alleyway where Brian was leaning against the wall smoking. He startled a little when I came out but then relaxed. Hey.

Weren't you quitting?

Not a cigarette.

I crossed my arms. “You're getting high at work?”

Yeah, you gonna tell my boss?

“Maybe.”

I have a new client meeting at ten.

“And...?”

And I get nervous, sue me. He pulled me in under his arm and held the joint to my lips, and I took a slow drag and held it. We leaned against the building, his arm still loosely around my neck, and I rubbed my hands together to warm them up.

I let my breath out. “How's Justin?” It was his first week on his own; his home nurse was coming and checking him a few times a week to adjust his meds or take his vital signs or I don't know, whatever Brian wasn't licensed to do, I guess, but for the most part he was alone for the first time since this all went down. Justin had been begging for it, and I got that, but it made Brian nervous, which I got too. Justin's first day on his own, Brian was calling him every half hour and Justin complained he couldn't sleep, so the next day they'd just stayed on Facetime the whole day, I think, because every time I came into Brian's office Justin was on his phone just sleeping or reading or something. Brian's calmed down since then. A little.

Brian pinched the joint between his teeth. He's good. Seizure around midnight, nothing too rough but it gave him a headache. Officially gained a pound this week as of this morning.

The blood tests are next week?

Yeah, here's hoping. He took a drag off the joint. We've got to get him out of that apartment. He's having all these fucking panic attacks. Popping Klonopin like candy to keep from tearing his hair out.

I don't know how you stay inside for a month.

Well, that's Justin. Doing impossible shit because he has no other choice. He was trying to hide his pride, but he couldn't, it was right there in his hands. Do you know how amazing it is to have someone who loves your boyfriend as much as you do? All my friends want me to shut up because all I want to do is talk about Justin, and then...then there's Brian.

He's amazing, I said.

He made breakfast this morning.

He did?

Yeah. Eggs and toast, start to finish, only sat to rest once.

Holy shit.

Brian grinned like he couldn't help it, because, I mean, who else is he gonna brag to about Justin making breakfast? He'd been dying to tell someone all morning. He's getting well.

He's getting well.

He laughed a little and pulled me in and kissed the top of my head. Jesus. All right. What have you got for me?

“Oh, Meyers, here.”

I handed him the folder and watched while he leafed through. He looked tired, I noticed, but I didn't think much of it until he swallowed and his fingers went to the base of his throat. Deaf people notice little movements like that, because it looks like someone's about to start speaking, and we also notice facial expressions, like the little wince I saw in Brian through that swallow.

“Um...Brian?”

He raised an eyebrow, eyes still on the folder.

“You're not getting sick, are you?”

I don't get sick, he signed without looking up.

“Wow, are you being studied, or...?”

He closed the folder and gave me a look.

“Is this like a Jack Spratt and his wife thing, you and Justin?”

Do you ever shut up?

I tried it once.

Not for you?

No, I didn't like it.

He paused, going through something in his head. The wife doesn't get a name?

“Uh...Mrs. Spratt.”

That's bleak, he said.

I didn't write it.

I'm not getting sick, he said. If I were getting sick, Justin would be sick.

And Justin's making breakfast.

Justin's making breakfast. He handed me the folder back. These are good, but tell Lou to stop being lazy with font. Everyone can tell.

Sure. You've got to get back in to Emily.

Yeah, yeah. He handed me the rest of the joint and fucked up my hair. See you.

“Drink some orange juice,” I called after him, and he flicked me off over his shoulder.

**

Yeah, so four hours later we got a call down at the art department, and Nicole got my attention and signed, Brian. He was sitting at his desk when I got in, looking like he'd just heard the company was going to be liquidated.

“Hi?” I tried.

Don't get close.

“Uh oh.”

He gave me a long look and finally said, I'm getting sick.

“Oof.”

Pretty much.

You okay?

What the fuck? Yeah, I'm fine, it's a cold.

“Yeah.”

He sighed. He says he still feels fine, or, you know, as fine as he's capable of feeling right now. But I feel like we're on borrowed fucking time here. He rubbed his forehead. God, if he gets this he's going to get really fucking sick again...

You don't know that.

It started with a cold last time...

When his immune system was what, half of what it is now? He's getting better.

I should have kept my distance. I've been all fucking over him.

He would have lost his fucking mind without that and you know it.

He dropped his chin into his hand and looked at me.

Not your fault, I said.

He sighed and flicked his eyes away. You have to go easy on Brian when it comes to big pronouncements like that, but sometimes he needs to hear them.

Well, I can never go home, he said. I'm gonna have to go out tonight and buy a new suit so I don't come to work tomorrow in the same clothes like a fucking sorority girl on a walk of shame.

And I know how much you hate shopping.

I'll just get a hotel room for a few nights until I'm sure this is out of my system.

Obviously I knew where this was going. Can Justin do a few nights on his own?

He can't. Brian stacked some papers. You're healthy?

I'm healthy.

You have plans, or...?

No, of course I'll stay with him. I paused. I haven't been alone with him since he got sick.

He shrugged. You wash your hands a lot, you remind him whether or not he took his meds yet if he forgets, you stay within arm's reach in case he gets dizzy. It's not hard.

Then why do you look scared as hell?

He glared at me, then said, Because I haven't been away from him since he got sick.

You can call constantly.

Yeah, that's... He played with a pen. Gonna happen.

He's going to be fine. I won't let him be scared.

God, if he gets sick...

I said, Then we will deal with it.

He nodded a little.

Leave here early, I said. Have Emily book you a nice room, get some fucking rest. Get well soon and come home to him. I'll hold down the fort.

He fixed me with a that sarcastic smile of his, but his eyes were warm. Have I told you I love you?

Only with that sneer.

He wrinkled his nose. Get out of my office.

**

I went home after work to shower and get meds and clothes and everything else I'd need for a few days at Brian and Justin's. Our past few visits, they'd dropped the gloves and mask rule for me, but I still had to scrub in, obviously. I carry hand sanitizer with me all the time because I hate germs almost as much as Justin does, so I rubbed that between my palms before I hit the doorbell. Justin answered, and I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before I went to the kitchen to wash up to my elbows and rinse my mouth with Listerine. Justin watched me, leaning against the counter. His hair was all soft and fluffy and messed up from sleep, and he was wearing this dark green sweatshirt that lit up his eyes.

He still, if you'll forgive the awful choice of words, takes my fucking breath away every time.

I laughed a little. You look fucking terrified right now.

I'm half-convinced Brian's dying of ebola or something and neither of you wants to tell me.

Brian has a sore throat, I said. He's fine. We just don't want you to catch it and then—

Get ebola.

Yeah. I gave him a slow kiss, just taking him in for a minute. His skin was cool, but his breathing was stuttered and labored, like it always was nowadays. I pulled away and tucked his hair behind his ear. How are you feeling?

Good. He rubbed his fist absentmindedly over his chest. I can't imagine that's going to last.

You caught like eighty colds before we figured out was wrong with you and only one of them turned into pneumonia. Your immune system's getting better. You'll be fine if you get sick.

Yeah, but my lungs are already swamps.

Just means you've had practice. I caught his elbow when he started to waver a little. Go sit.

He yawned his way over to a chair and slumped over the kitchen table. He stretched the fingers of his right hand against his cheek.

Did you draw today? I asked him.

He nodded. A little. Hard to get too into it when I can't stay awake for more than an hour. He started coughing suddenly; it's low and it's loud, so I can usually hear it pretty well. I rubbed my hands together to warm them up and came over and held one to his chest and one to his back. I could feel his heart really pounding. It's frustrating for me when someone says anything about Justin just staying home resting all the time, because I know what sick is like. I know how hard he's working.

I kissed his temple when he was done. All good.

All good. He took a shaky breath. How was your day?

I laughed and got up and washed my hands. Brian called Lou out for his shitty font choices.

About time! I just about died when Brian showed me that last Eyeconic piece. I can't believe that made it to print.

I had nothing to do with it.

I know, I know.

You want spaghetti? He fucking loves spaghetti. It's kind of excessive.

Yeah. He started to get up. I can help.

It's spaghetti. Kind of a one person job. Sit, you're not breathing well.

I started spaghetti and made some garlic bread and got him some water when he kept coughing again. I was watching him pant and wondering if I should get him on oxygen—he said he was okay, but I think he was just worried about being trouble in that way that he does—when Brian called me. I got Justin's attention and signed Brian's name while I accepted the call.

Brian was sitting on a hotel bed, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt he must have bought after work. And knowing him, the sweatpants cost three hundred dollars. Everyone alive? he said.

Yeah, how are you feeling?

He rolled his eyes and yeah, fair enough. He looked kind of tired, but at this point I'm used to seeing Justin taken apart by illness, so it was hard to blame for Brian for not giving much of a shit about the beginnings of a cold on anyone else. Is Justin awake?

Yeah, he's right here. Can you do me favor and tell me how his breathing sounds?

He blinked and said, I sort of forgot that aspect of not having a hearing person around.

There are other ways to track it. We'll be fine.

Yeah, I just... He ran his hand over his mouth. I've been listening to him breathe for a long time now. Yeah, hand him over.

I gave my phone a good once-over with the Clorox wipes they have on every surface now, washed my hands, and handed it to Justin and signed, Breathe for him. Justin smiled a little at Brian and signed to him while he tried some deep breaths, asking Brian how his day was and how he was feeling. He started coughing eventually and held the phone out to me, and I rubbed circles on his back with one hand and took the phone with the other.

It's wet, Brian said. He looked nervous. I think it's worse than it was yesterday. That cough sounds bad.

“Yeah, I can hear the cough a little.”

He can show you how to set the nebulizer up. The bottles can be hard for him to manage with his hand.

I looked at him still coughing. He's kind of busy.

Okay, yeah, I can talk you through it. Come on.

I brought the phone with me into the bedroom and sat on the floor with the nebulizer, phone propped up against the wall, while Brian gave me instructions. He paused abruptly at one point and said, Do you think he's getting sick?

I snapped two pieces of the thing together. “Can't tell.” I looked around. “Oh. You don't speak in here, right? Sorry.”

Justin breaks that rule all the time, it's fine. He swallowed and rubbed the base of his throat. I can't tell either.

“Hard to be sure right now unless he starts running a fever, I guess.”

And he's not.

“No.” I chewed on my cheek. “If he starts to, what do I do?”

Call me.

“Well, yeah, I figured that much.”

He shrugged and sighed. It's not like we can take him to the hospital. We'll get Daphne to check him out. Try to keep his fucking asthma from losing its shit, pray to whoever the fuck the fever doesn't spike and it doesn't settle in his lungs. He rubbed his forehead. You have to watch him for seizures if he gets a fever.

“I know.” I held up the nebulizer. “Good?”

Yeah, that looks right. He chewed on his thumbnail.

“Brian.”

He raised an eyebrow. Why can you say your Rs when you've been Deaf for a million years and Justin is just a fucking disaster?

“Speech therapy. Get some rest.”

He rolled his eyes and looked away.

“I've got him,” I said. “You know I've got him.”

He looked back at me and didn't say anything for a while.

It's funny. With everyone else, all of Brian and Justin's friends—my friends? I don't know—Brian will never let on how worried he is. They all know, obviously, but it's like some weird kind of play they've all agreed to put on. I think Justin likes it, so maybe that's why. He feels guilty if he thinks Brian's too concerned about him, and he also has PTSD and kind of jumps to the worst possible scenario all the time and is pretty sure he's going to die just about constantly, so I think Brian downplaying everything is to manage that too.

But Brian, when it's just him and me? It's different. And I don't know if that's anything special about me...I mean, I don't know if there is anything special about me it could even be about. Maybe Brian just really needed a person he could show all the worry to and I came around at the right time.

Maybe it's just that I don't crack under pressure so he knows he won't scare me off. I guess that's a thing about me.

Is he freaking out? Brian said.

He's nervous. He's not freaking out.

He sighed. Tell him it'll be fine.

I know. I pointed towards the doorway. I think I hear him coughing, is that—

Yeah, he's coughing.

Okay. I'm going to bring him this. Get some fucking rest. Are you eating?

I'll order something.

Okay, well...do that, or I'm sending Molly.

Christ, you know how to threaten a guy. All right.

I hung up the phone and brought the nebulizer back out to Justin. He was mostly asleep with his head on the table, so I shook his shoulder gently and gave him the mouthpiece before I went and rescued the pot of spaghetti off the stove.

He said, Are you sure I can't help with—

You can sit there and breathe your damn medicine.

I like when you get bossy.

I know you do.

I served us both and lit a candle for the table so it'd feel a little special, and we ate and talked and coughed a lot, if you're him. He was doing so much better than he had been a few weeks ago, when sitting up through a whole meal would have been a pretty impossible ask, and now here he was eating and holding a whole conversation. But it was hard to ignore that he seemed to be having more trouble breathing than he had been for the past few days, and when he twisted away from the table to sneeze as we were finishing up he turned back to me looking like he'd just been issued his death warrant.

You're a sneezy person, I said. I wouldn't read into it. Might be the candle.

I'm screwed. You knew I'm screwed. Brian knows I'm screwed. The fucking candle probably knows I'm screwed.

Jane had a cold last week and you didn't get it.

I don't regularly have my tongue in Jane's mouth.

Glad to hear it. Clean your plate.

We stretched out on the floor of the living room after dinner and I made some progress on this ridiculously long RPG game we've been playing on the system Brian got him as an early Christmas present when his quarantine started. Justin can't play for very long because of his hand, but he likes to watch too. We played cards for a little while when we hit a wall in the game, and I let him paint my toenails. Basically we've come up with about a million and a half small ways to entertain ourselves while we're waiting for him to be up for sex again.

I was watching Justin and trying to act like I wasn't watching Justin, and he was trying to act like he didn't know I was watching him...it was a whole thing. He was sneezing and blowing his nose a lot, and normally I would have passed that off as those monster allergies of his, but given the circumstances I think we both knew what was going on.

I put clean sheets on the bed and we showered before we got in to keep them that way. Justin took his meds and then asked me twice if he'd taken his meds yet, which was...really super adorable, and I had him take his temperature—normal—while I took mine and tugged out my hearing aids. Justin put on a huge sweatshirt and hugged Brian's pillow, and I sat up and had him curl up against me, his head on my chest.

Did I take my meds? he asked sleepily, and I tried not to laugh.

Yes.

He laughed, too. Sorry. Used to Brian doing it.

You're good. You want to call him?

He nodded and settled in against me, and I tucked him under my arm and called Brian with my other hand. Brian was in his hotel bed, looking tired but okay, though there was a bit of a pink flush around his nose that Justin gestured to right away.

Now you know why I can't take you seriously when your hayfever's bad, Brian said.

Justin sneezed on cue and rubbed his nose against my shirt. I rolled my eyes at Brian and signed Bless you in Justin's face.

Brian said, You sick, buddy?

Justin sighed a little. Not sure.

Fever? Brian said. I shook my head. Okay. Good. Let me hear you talk?

Justin said something, his breath soft against my shirt. I couldn't see his lips well enough to understand what it was, but it made Brian smile, then shake his head.

You're really hoarse, he said.

I've been coughing all day.

God, your breathing.

No fever, Brian, he said.

Brian chewed on his fingernail. Yeah, I know.

Justin stretched and got the oxygen cannula from the night table and started the flow on the tank as I helped him hook it over his head. See? Justin said. Breathing.

Yeah, good job, Brian said, small.

Justin rested his head back on me, twisting one hand in my shirt. I want to go to sleep now, he signed with the other.

Get to it, Brian said, and Justin was asleep about half a minute later. I adjusted the phone a little so I could see Brian, slipping my hand under Justin's sweatshirt to rub his back.

“Hey,” I said.

He looked so fucking tired suddenly. He's sick.

“Yeah, I think so.”

Jesus.

“He just feels stuffed up,” I said, rubbing the heel of my hand behind his lungs. “More than usual.”

Maybe I should just fucking come home.

“No.”

If he's already caught it...

I have him.

Brian watched me.

“I have him, Brian.”

He swallowed and shook his head briefly. Plug the phone in, set up by his side of the bed.

I did, watching him over Justin's shoulder. “You're going to stay on?”

Yeah. I need to hear him breathe.

There are some things that Brian only, only says to me. Not even to Justin.

There are moments I believe maybe there is something special about me. Even if those moments sometimes coincide with Brian not trusting me to keep our boyfriend alive.

Okay, I said, and I wrapped myself around Justin and went to sleep while Brian watched over us.

**

I woke up to my watch alarm buzzing the next morning. Justin was sleeping still, wound around me like an octopus, and as I sat up a little bit, adjusting him on me, I saw Brian waving at me from the phone. He was half-dressed, his tie unknotted around his collar.

“Hey,” I said.

I was trying to figure out how the fuck I was going to wake you up. Check him.

I felt his forehead. No fever. Are you going to work?

Of course I'm fucking going to work.

You're sick.

Somehow I think I'll survive. You're staying there, I already emailed Nicole.

I stretched. “Okay.” Like I'm gonna complain about a day off with Justin?

Wake him up, let me see him, Brian said, so I shook Justin gently until he started coughing and slowly opened his eyes. He sighed and nuzzled my shirt for a little while, and I moved the phone around to where he and Brian could see each other.

How are you? Brian asked him.

My throat hurts. He batted at his nose. Stuffed up.

Can you breathe?

Justin took a deep breath and nodded, coughing a little. I got up out from under him and got his meds and took his temperature. 98.3 I signed to Brian.

You definitely have a cold, Brian said. I can't believe I thought I wouldn't be able to tell.

Am I dying?

Brian gave him a look. No.

You always say that, Justin said with a stretch and a sneeze.

Yeah, and you're still alive.

Justin looked like he accepted that, but a minute later he sat up and rubbed his hand over his mouth. His eyes were shining.

I said, Hey, what? You heard him. You're going to be fine.

Justin shook his head. I know, just...

Sunshine, Brian said. What?

I'm going to have to stay inside longer, right? Justin said.

We knew there would be setbacks, Brian said in a minute, and Justin sank his head down to his hands. Brian wanted to talk to him and tried to get me to make him look up, but Justin just shook me off when I tried.

“Give him a minute,” I said.

Brian sighed. “Yeah.”

I brought the phone with me into the bathroom to pee and brush my teeth and wash up and take my meds while Brian lectured me like I'd never heard of a sick person before. You have to make sure he coughs, Brian said. And just medicate the shit out of his lungs. And watch him for seizures.

“I know, Brian.”

He doesn't like decongestants, they make his heart race, but he's got to do it so he doesn't get a sinus infection.

I rooted through the medicine cabinet. “Okay.”

He needs...he likes toast when he's sick.

“Okay,” I said.

Brian sighed and looked at his watch. I have to go. Is he pissed?

“No, he's not pissed, come on. He's scared.”

Yeah, well, I'm scared too.

Not the same. “He's not scared he's going to die,” I said, and I felt something inside me shaking. “He's scared he's never going to get well.”

The words kind of caught, and I cleared my throat and looked away for a minute. Brian was watching me when I looked back.

Are you okay? he asked me.

Yeah, I'm fine. I'm sorry.

No...

“Really,” I said. “I'm fine. I don't want to do this.”

He licked his lips. Okay. Fuck, I'm going to be late. Can you tell him...fuck, I don't know.

I know. It's okay.

Okay.

I hung up and went back into the bedroom with Justin's meds. I gave them to him with some water, and he said Thank you, and took them.

Justin? I said.

Yeah.

It's not always going to feel this bad.

**

Mostly Justin slept. I'd thought he was tired before, but God, this just robbed him of any energy he'd had, and it was hard to watch because it made it so clear how fucking hard he'd been pushing himself to get better, to be social, to act normal these past few weeks, and now easily all that drive was just stolen from him. He curled up small under a few blankets from the couch and just slept, waking up every few hours to drink some tea and do a nebulizer treatment and apologize to me, like he was supposed to be entertaining me or something.

I'm making way more progress on this video game without your horrible advice, I said, and he kicked me and fell back asleep.

But he started to feel warm in the early afternoon. At first I just took the blanket off of him and kind of, you know, hoped, but he started shivering a little in his sleep, and when I checked his temperature it was 100.3. Damn it.

I woke him up. You can take Advil, right? You've got a bit of a fever.

Fuck.

It's okay. A little over a hundred. Pretty normal for a cold.

Justin nodded a little. He was shaking, and I don't think just from the fever. I can take Advil, but I might not be supposed to so we can monitor it.

Yeah.

Call Brian?

I gave him a hug. Okay. You are fine, okay? Remember? Eighty million colds and only pneumonia once.

Yeah. Yeah, I know.

I called Brian at the office. He was talking to someone off camera, looked like something about a deadline, and he signed What's up? to me without looking at me.

“I'll wait.”

He stopped talking and looked at me. Fuck. What?

He's okay. Finish up, I'll talk to you when you're alone. I kissed Justin's cheek and took the phone into the bedroom. He didn't need to see Brian freak out about this. He was scared enough as it was.

Brian sent whoever out of his office and said, Where is he?

He's on the couch. He's fine. He has a low fever.

Brian looked like I'd punched him.

Low. Like, the kind of fever you run when you have a cold.

God, he's going to get sick again, fuck...

I just need to know if I should give him Advil to try to keep him from having seizures or if we let it go so we can monitor it.

Brian ran his hand over his mouth. I did this.

You didn't do anything.

He was so fucking sick.

Brian, I need you to calm down long enough for us to make a decision here.

I'm calm. I'm calm.

“Okay, no you're not.”

Fuck you.

“Brian, you're not fucking calm!” I said. “Jesus, of course you're not! Last time he was sick he almost died, no one is expecting you to not fucking be scared right now.”

He watched me, pulling his lips into his mouth. He almost died.

“He almost fucking died.”

He was there, and he...

“Yes.”

And if this gets bad again—

“Then that would be really bad. Yes. This is scary. You are supposed to be scared right now.”

Brian was quiet for a long time, looking at me and breathing hard, but everything was right there in his eyes, and in that moment I would have fucking died for Brian Kinney, I swear to God, I would get in front of a train.

This is the Brian nobody else gets to see.

“I know,” I told him. “I know. But right now we need to figure out a plan, okay?”

He blinked and looked down for a second. Yeah. Nothing to bring the fever down unless it hits 101, then medicate him and call me and we need to get his nurse over there right away.

“Okay. Good.”

Is he okay?

“He's scared. He's okay. I'll bring you to him in a minute.” Once you've got your game face on, obviously, but he didn't need me to say that.

He took a minute, shuffling the papers around on his desk just to have something to do while he pulled himself together. Finally he looked up at me and said, Christ, you're keeping me together, you're keeping Justin together.

I shrugged.

Who the fuck is taking care of you with this shit? he said.

“I'm good at this. Being good at something is kind of its own comfort.”

He stared at me. Jesus, finally. Right?

**

Brian was right; this was a setback, and it took Justin a long time to bounce back to where he had been before this cold, and it was frustrating and he was miserable.

But his fever never went above a hundred and one.

I wanted him diligently that first day, and Brian stayed on Facetime that night while Justin and I took turns waking up and putting him on the nebulizer. We napped on the living room floor the next day, Justin under my arm, and his warm-not-hot forehead tucked against my neck.

We were stretched out on the floor cushions in the early evening, surrounded by empty soup bowls and tea mugs. Justin wasn't breathing well, between the cold and his asthma and working through the old pneumonia had really been struggling all day, and he was lying on his side watching me play our video game.

I still feel like these last few weeks didn't really happen, he said. Like this is all some extended seizure dream, or something. The whole thing's just like...ridiculous.

I paused the game. Did I ever tell you about when I got really sick?

He shook his head.

Yeah, I don't really talk about it much. I lay down facing him. I'd known something was wrong for a while, but I'd seen so many of my friends...I just didn't want to believe it so I kept pretending it wasn't happening. And then one day I collapse at the grocery store and I'm in the hospital with a tube down my throat because I can't breathe on my own and I don't know where I am or who anyone is but a nurse is asking me what my religion is because she wants to know if I want a priest or a rabbi there.

Jesus, Justin said.

This asshole doctor told me I had HIV and I was irresponsible and reckless and I was probably going to die. And I wasn't even scared, because the whole thing seemed like...

Fake, Justin said.

Exactly. I wasn't going to die. I was me. This was someone else's life, not mine. This kind of shit doesn't happen to me. These big stories, I'm just...me.

He nodded and stretched.

But you know, I said. That's kind of how I feel about meeting you.

He stopped stretching and watched me.

These big stories don't happen to me, I said. But here you are.

Evan, he said.

So it's good, I think, I said. It's good to live big lives.

**

We took a long shower that night that helped Justin cough for a while but made him a little dizzy, so after a lot of work I convinced him to curl up and wait for me in bed while I finished cleaning up the kitchen. I called Brian for his nightly update, and for company. He sort of looked like crap too.

Maybe call out for work tomorrow, I said.

He shrugged. It's Friday. I'll sleep this weekend, good as new by Monday. He was sitting at the little desk in his hotel room, propped up on his elbow. How's he doing?

I rinsed a plate and stuck it in the dishwasher. “He's good. Very sneezy.”

Brian cracked a smile like he didn't mean to. Yeah, that's Justin.

“He's in bed already. We'll do the neb thing like we did last night, that seemed to hold him off. He said normally if his lungs were this shitty he'd go on steroids, but...”

Yeah, not an option right now.

“Yeah.”

Is he hurting?

“You know him, he doesn't talk about it.”

Yeah. He's acting like himself? He's not out of it?

I shook my head and wiped down the counter with bleach. “Same old same old.”

He bit his lip. That was cute.

“Shut up.”

That too. Is his fever gone?

I shook my head.

Shit.

“Staying low. 100.2.”

It's still a fever. Fuck.

I put the sponge down. He has a cold. It's the kind of low fever you're supposed to have when you're fighting off a cold.

Yeah, but—

“Brian.”

He sighed.

Repeat what I just said, I said.

He has a cold.

The second part.

He glared at me. It's normal for when you're fighting off a cold.

That last part again.

He understood, then. His eyes softened. Fighting off a cold.

There you go. He's fighting it off.

Brian pulled his legs up onto the chair and took a deep breath.

He has a cold, and he's fighting it off, I said. His immune system's weak, but it's there now. He's fighting it off.

He is... Amazing, incredible, miraculous but that's a lot for Brian.

I know he is, I said, and his eyes glowed like candles.

It had been almost a year since I met Justin, and back then, the fact that he had a husband was fine because I was busy and not looking for anything serious and he was gorgeous and fuck, who cared that he was married, I would have dated him if he was on fire. Brian was a concession I was willing to make, and it's fucking wild to me now that I ever felt that way. I hate that I felt that way, when I look at Brian.

I'm not saying that, if the fucking world exploded and Brian and Justin broke up, I wouldn't still want to be with Justin. Of course I would. It's Justin; I'd still date him if he were on fire. But it's not...I would lose something. I would just have a boyfriend, then. And what I need isn't a boyfriend. I've had boyfriends.

What I never had before was a family.

Brian said, Bring me in, let me say goodnight?

Yeah, of course. I need to plug you in anyway so you can keep watch.

He shook his head a little.

What? I said.

I don't need to stay on tonight, he said. It's okay. I trust you. God only knows what face I must have made, because he rolled his eyes right away. Don't get sappy on me.

Never.

That's my boy, he said. Come on, let's go see him.