Saturday morning brought with it a very welcome break in Brian’s new routine. No alarm needed to be set, and there would be no early morning trip to the oncologist’s office. After how awful Friday had been, the weekend break from treatment was a huge relief, because it essentially meant that Brian didn’t have to leave the house -- or the bed -- if he didn’t want to. He needed the mental break, and he knew his body needed a break as well.

The thing about cancer treatment is that it doesn’t discriminate between the cancer cells and the healthy cells -- it has to harm some of the healthy cells in order to get rid of the cancer cells. And that was what had Brian feeling like absolute shit. The weekend break was intended to give his body a chance to recover from some of the abuse he’d been putting it through in the name of making sure that this godforsaken illness never came back.

Brian rolled over in the bed and looked at the clock on the nightstand. It was just after 9 a.m. He’d slept fairly well that night, in spite of how sick he’d been during the day. He only remembered having to get up once in the middle of the night, and it turned out to be a false alarm. Even better, he’d managed to get himself to the bathroom and back into the bed without waking up Justin.

But Saturday morning, Brian was alone in the bed, and he didn’t hear movement elsewhere in the loft -- no water running in the shower, no sounds of breakfast being made in the kitchen. He didn’t smell coffee brewing.

“Justin?” he called out as he propped himself up on his elbows so he could see out into the living room. There was no response. He must have gone out somewhere.

Brian lifted himself up into a sitting position and swung his legs over the side of the bed so he could stand. He already felt quite a bit better than he had yesterday. Thank heaven for small miracles, he thought to himself. Christ, when had he gotten semi-religious?

He padded into the bathroom, which he’d spent far too much time in over the past week. He caught a glimpse of his reflection out of the corner of his eye as he passed the mirror, and stopped. He turned to face the mirror fully and took in what he saw. He’d lost weight, and he could see it in his face. His eyes were dark and dull. He needed to shave. His skin was much paler than usual. He didn’t quite look like himself.

Shaking his head slightly to rid it of the image of what he’d become, he turned away from the mirror and continued on the path he’d intended on taking when he entered the bathroom -- taking a piss, then stripping off what little clothing he was wearing so he could take a shower.

He leaned against the wall with one shoulder to conserve his energy -- which seemed to be in short supply lately -- as the warm water washed over his back, pulsating and prickling against his skin. When he turned around to face the spray, he winced as the water hit the reddened skin on his abdomen and burned a little. He turned the temperature down so he would be able to stand to wash the front of his body.

When he was finished, he laid a towel over the closed toilet lid and sat down to dry off. No point wasting his limited stamina trying to stand up for that task. Once he felt he was sufficiently dry, he pushed himself up to stand and walked back out into the bedroom, looking around the loft briefly to see if Justin was back. He wasn’t.

Brian pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and walked slowly down the stairs. He saw the newspaper lying on the table, and a note in Justin’s handwriting alongside it.

Went out to run some errands. Back soon. Love you. - J

Brian ran his thumb lightly over the last two words of the message. Love you.

Love you too, he thought to himself. Love you too.

Brian was reading the newspaper on the sofa when the door to the loft slid open, and Justin stepped in, his arms laden with a variety of bags that appeared to be from several different places.

“Good morning,” Justin said, smiling at Brian as he unloaded the bags one-by-one onto the kitchen island. “Sleep well?”

Brian nodded and refolded the paper, setting it aside on the glass coffee table in front of him.

“I hope I didn’t wake you when I left,” Justin continued. “You looked so peaceful, I thought I’d just leave you alone. Let you get some sleep. You probably needed it.” He dug around in one of the bags and produced a small, white takeout container. “Muffins from the diner,” he said. “I thought you might like something different this morning. Deb sends her love.”

Brian got up from the sofa and went over to where Justin stood, wrapping his arms around the younger man’s waist from behind and kissing his cheek softly. “Thank you,” he said. “And not just for the muffins.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

A comfortable silence settled between them as Brian took a seat on one of the barstools and leaned onto the countertop with his elbows. After a moment, he reached over and opened the box, picking up one of the muffins and taking a bite.

“Wow, they’re actually halfway fresh today,” he remarked.

“They’re fresh every day,” Justin said, rolling his eyes. “I’ve seen them come out of the oven with my own eyes.”

“Yeah, okay,” Brian laughed. “Sure. Some days they definitely seem fresher than others.”

“Alright, I’ll give you that. But it’s a 24-hour diner on Liberty Avenue, not a four-star restaurant.”

“You can say that again.”

“Doesn’t stop you from eating there almost every day, does it?”

“Guess not.” Brian shrugged and took another bite of his muffin.

“I stopped by the video store and rented some movies,” Justin said. “I figured we could just stay in and chill this weekend. Order takeout if you’re up to that, or I can cook if you’re not.” He started unloading groceries from one of the other bags that littered the counter, moving a small assortment of fresh fruit and vegetables into the refrigerator while Brian watched. He liked it when Justin cooked for him, even though he’d never said as much. And he agreed with Justin that a home-cooked meal just felt good. Comforting. Much better than Thai takeout multiple nights in a row. Although he’d probably never say that.

They spent Saturday lounging around the house, watching some of the DVDs Justin had rented, sharing a joint as they sat together on the floor and listened to some smooth jazz, and generally just taking it easy. It was exactly the kind of day Brian needed, even if it was far out of character for Brian Kinney.

By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, Brian was starting to go stir crazy. He hadn’t left the house, except to go to his treatment appointments, for five days. Even though he was still physically tired, he was mentally restless. And that led him to say something that surprised even himself.

“Why don’t we go to Debbie’s tonight? For the family dinner?” he said, breaking the silence they’d been lying in, together in the bed.

“I really don’t think she’s expecting us to be there,” Justin said. “She’d understand if you don’t feel up to it.”

“I feel okay. And I’m the one suggesting it. I know she’s not expecting me. I want to go.”

“Who are you, and what did you do with Brian Kinney?” Justin laughed as he rolled over to face Brian. “I always thought the only reason you ever went was because she’d probably come over here and drag you out of the loft by your balls if you didn’t.”

“I need to get out of this goddamn apartment, or I’m going to lose my mind,” Brian groaned.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea? I mean, you’re definitely still not 100%.” Justin paused for a moment before adding, “And the others will be there.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s dinner at Deb’s. Just a bunch of sitting and eating and bitching. I think I can handle that. And I can handle our friends. If they question me, I’ll just say I’ve been busy at work. Ted will back me up on that.”

“Okay,” Justin agreed, although he still sounded reluctant. “But if you start getting tired, we’re leaving. I’ll make up some excuse if I have to.”

“Yes, mother.”

“Again, I’m not your mother. Thank god.” Justin shuddered. “I just don’t want to see you wear yourself out.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine.” Brian looked into Justin’s eyes, noticing that there seemed to be something Justin wasn’t saying, although Brian couldn’t quite read what it was. He definitely seemed hesitant to go to dinner at Debbie’s, which was strange. Justin normally looked forward to family dinner. And Brian didn’t buy for a minute that his hesitation was only out of worry for Brian’s well-being. There was something going on that Justin wasn’t telling him about. But pushing to try to find out what it was simply wasn’t Brian’s style. Justin would tell him if he wanted him to know. Although Brian really did want to know.

Brian and Justin were the first to arrive at the Novotny house for Sunday dinner. Debbie looked surprised to see them. “Well, look who it is!” she called as she came out of the kitchen, a broad smile on her face, wiping her hands on an apron that featured the most garish print one could possibly find. Brian idly wondered where on earth she’d found the thing. Probably the same place she bought all of her loud, brightly colored wardrobe. Who sold that shit? And who bought it, besides Debbie Novotny? She came over to the pair and gave them both hugs and kisses on the cheek. The hug she gave Brian was much more gentle than her usual style. She moved her hand up to cup his cheek as she released him.

“How are you doing, honey?” she said, giving him a smile that had a hint of something else in it...sadness, maybe. He wasn’t sure.

Brian shrugged noncommittally, not really wanting to say any of what was coming to his mind in response to that question. He settled for saying, “About as well as could be expected, I guess. I had to get out of the fucking house before I lose my mind.”

“Well, I hope Sunshine’s taking good care of you. And that you’re letting him.” She gave Brian a pointed look and bustled back into the kitchen, turning back briefly to gesture toward the living room. “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll bring you something to drink.”

“I don’t need anyone to bring me anything,” Brian protested. “I can get my own.”

Justin grabbed Brian’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, saying under his breath, “Let her.”

Brian reluctantly walked over to the couch and took a seat. Justin sat down next to him.

“Michael and Ben won’t be here tonight,” Deb called from the kitchen as she filled a glass with water from a pitcher she kept in the door of the refrigerator. “Hunter had a swim meet.”

Brian wasn’t sure if that news had him feeling relieved or disappointed. He was relieved because he wouldn’t have to worry about his best friend noticing something was off with him, then incessantly pestering him to find out what it was. But, at the same time, he was disappointed because he’d been hoping to make an appearance for Michael tonight, since he hadn’t seen him in over a week and knew it was probably only a matter of time before Michael started worrying because Brian hadn’t been around.

However, Brian did take note of the split second of relief that broke out across Justin’s face, before he rearranged it into a more neutral expression.

“So, Michael’s been telling me Brett has a few studios interested in making Rage into a movie,” she said as she came back into the living room, holding two glasses of water. She handed them to Justin and Brian and took a seat herself. “I’m so excited for you boys. I just knew you’d both be famous one day.”

Brian looked at Justin, confused. Justin hadn’t mentioned anything to him about Rage, or the fact that there were actually studios interested in the film now. That seemed like big news that had gone completely unmentioned.

“Yeah, it’s pretty surreal,” Justin said, ignoring Brian. Then, he changed the subject. “So how are you guys getting along without me at the diner?”

“We’re doing just fine,” Debbie said, smiling. “Don’t you worry about us. You just worry about taking care of Brian.”

“Nobody needs to worry about me,” Brian groused. “I’m fine.”

“We know, honey,” Debbie said, smiling gently. “We’re all just trying to make things easier.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible,” Brian muttered.

“Well, let us try anyway,” Debbie said, just as a timer went off in the kitchen, interrupting their conversation with a loud beep. She pushed herself up out of the armchair she’d briefly settled into and went back into the kitchen.

“You didn’t tell me you guys had heard from Brett,” Brian said, raising an eyebrow at Justin. Maybe that was why Justin had been so nervous about coming, and why he was relieved Michael wouldn’t be there.

The younger man shrugged. “There’s really nothing to tell. He’s shopping it around to the studio bigwigs, hoping he can find someone who’s open-minded enough to let us keep Rage queer. And besides, you’ve got bigger things to worry about right now.”

“I still care about what’s going on in your life.” Brian gave Justin a brief peck on the lips. “I want you to tell me these things.”

“It’s hard to even think of talking to you about what’s going on in my life when you’re lying on the floor in the bathroom, sick as a dog, or when you’re in bed, in pain that I can’t do anything about, or so exhausted that you can’t keep your eyes open.” Justin looked down at the floor, seemingly not wanting to make eye contact with Brian.

“Well, distract me. Give me something good to think about, okay?” Brian took Justin’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Fuck, he thought to himself. This illness had not only taken over his life, but Justin’s too. To the point where Justin hadn’t even bothered to share this news with Brian, either because he thought Brian wouldn’t care, or it seemed too insignificant.

Justin didn’t say anything. And Brian couldn’t help but notice that he seemed relieved when the doorbell rang and broke off their conversation.

“Justin, could you get that?” Debbie called from the kitchen. “I don’t know why any of you kids bother to ring the doorbell anymore.”

When Justin opened the door, Ted stood on the other side, and he seemed just as surprised to see Justin as Debbie had been.

“Justin,” Ted said as he stepped inside and started taking off his coat. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight. How’s Brian doing?”

“You can ask him yourself,” Justin said, gesturing to the left, where the back of Brian’s head was clearly visible over the back of the couch.

Brian raised his hand in a silent greeting, without turning around. “I hope you haven’t run my business into the ground yet, Theodore,” he said over his shoulder, somewhat serious, somewhat sarcastic.

“Not yet, boss,” Ted said, hanging up his coat. He walked into the living room, where he joined Brian on the couch.

“Good,” Brian said. “So how are things?”

“They’re fine. Business as usual, for the most part. Leo Brown was making some noise about wanting a new model for their underwear line, but we’re taking care of it. Emmett -- who apparently is a football fan, that surprised the hell out of me -- anyway, he suggested Drew Boyd from the Ironmen. We approached him, and he eventually agreed, although he seemed a little apprehensive at first. We’ve got the photo shoot scheduled for next week. So see? Everything’s fine. We’re taking care of it.”

Brian nodded and ran his fingers around the rim of the glass of water he was still holding. While he appreciated Cynthia and Ted taking such good care of Kinnetik and its clients, the fact that they hadn’t called him even one time since he’d left the office on Tuesday kind of made him feel like he wasn’t needed at all. It was a stupid thought, and Brian knew it, but his insecurities were lurking much closer to the surface these days.

“Not that we don’t still need you, boss,” Ted added quickly, as if he’d read Brian’s mind. “I just wanted you to know you don’t have to worry. Take some time to take care of yourself. Let Cynthia and I take care of the office for now.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the door opening and Emmett waltzing in, flamboyant as ever in a bright pink shirt and skin-tight plaid pants, clutching a small paper bag. “I’m back with the butter,” he called, looking over at Brian, Ted, and Justin in the living room before he continued on to the kitchen, where Debbie took the bag from his hand.

“Thanks, honey,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver. I can’t believe I ran out of butter. I’m not sure where my head has been lately.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind,” Emmett said, before kissing Debbie’s cheek and patting her shoulder.

The doorbell rang again, and Justin got up to answer it without being asked. Brian turned around to see who it was. This time, it was Lindsay who walked in, holding Gus’s hand.

“Dada!” Gus cried out when he saw Brian, running over to him and practically throwing himself into Brian’s lap.

“Hey, Sonny Boy,” Brian said as he ran his hand through Gus’s hair, tousling it. It felt so much like his own. It was still so surreal to think that this tiny human was half him, half Lindsay. Together, they’d created a person. Sometimes, when he was alone, Brian wondered what kind of person Gus would grow up to be. Would he be straight? Would he be queer? What would he be passionate about? What would capture his interest? What would he do with his life? Finding out the answers to those questions -- someday -- was a big part of the reason Brian was putting himself through the torture he was right now. So he could have a surer shot at being around to see Gus grow up.

“Do they…?” Ted let the question trail off as he looked at Brian, then at Lindsay, then at Emmett. Brian knew exactly what he was asking.

“No,” Brian said softly. “Just you, Justin, Deb, and Cynthia.”

Ted nodded in silent agreement that he would keep Brian’s secret. The secret that Brian had started to wonder why he was still keeping. Sometimes he thought it might be easier to just have everyone know, rather than having to put so much effort into keeping it from them. He’d managed to make himself look halfway normal today by shaving and giving himself a mini facial with some of his pricey creams and potions before they left, while Justin made fun of him for being vain. And he was doing a decent job of keeping from wincing when he moved and his pants rubbed the burn that was forming on his stomach. But it definitely would have been easier to not have to pretend that everything was fine.

Debbie interrupted Brian’s thoughts by announcing that dinner was ready and calling them all to the table. They squeezed in around the dining room table that wasn’t really intended to hold them all, just as they did on most Sundays. But even though it was cozy, it was comfortable. It was just about being with each other, sharing their lives. Usually, that would have been something that Brian would only begrudgingly let himself be a part of, but this week, he found himself appreciating it more. It felt nice to be a part of a family.

“Where’s Mel?” Debbie asked as she set down the last dish and took her seat at the table.

Lindsay looked down at her plate and cleared her throat before speaking. “She, um, had something else she had to do,” Lindsay said. Brian could tell by her mannerisms and the look in her eye when she raised her gaze to meet his that she was lying -- he’d known her too long to think anything else. But the others seemed to buy her story, so he didn’t question it either. He was sure he’d hear about it later, if there was anything to hear about.

By the end of the meal, which was much heavier than anything he’d eaten in the past week, Brian’s energy was flagging. Although he didn’t really want to leave and go back to the loft for what felt like six more days of house arrest, he gave Justin a look, cueing the younger man to say, “I have some homework I really need to get to, so we’d better go.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you two have homework,” Emmett laughed.

“Is that what they’re calling it now?” Lindsay’s voice chimed in.

“Laugh all you want,” Brian said as he stood up and followed Justin into the living room. “You both know you’re just jealous.” If only that was the real reason they were going home, Brian thought to himself. But he knew his body wouldn’t be willing to cooperate, no matter how much he wanted that release. That connection with Justin. Even though he knew Justin understood why it wasn’t happening right now, that didn’t make it any easier. Brian Fucking Kinney was all about sex. And he hadn’t had any in weeks.

Debbie was trailing behind them, and pulled Brian into a hug when he turned around after picking up his coat. “Take care of yourself, honey,” she said quietly, so that only he could hear. “You let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Thanks, Ma,” he said sincerely, returning her embrace.

As he and Justin left Debbie’s house, Brian realized he felt full. Satisfied. And not because of the meal. It was because of the company.

Monday morning, Justin dropped Brian off for his treatment. Justin wasn’t staying, because he had to turn in some work at PIFA and go to a group meeting concerning a project he was working on for one of his classes. Brian had agreed to call a cab to take him home afterward, although he secretly felt a bit disappointed that Justin wouldn’t be waiting for him today when he was finished. He’d gotten used to that last week. Liked it, even. Although he’d be keeping that thought to himself, lest he start looking or sounding like a lovesick lesbian.

But when the cab arrived, Brian found himself giving the driver the address for Kinnetik rather than the loft. He was feeling pretty decent this morning after the weekend break, so maybe he could put in an hour or two at the office, just to be sure that everything was really going as well as Ted said it was. Who cared if he was in jeans? He was the boss. He could wear whatever the fuck he wanted.

Brian hadn’t been in his office for more than ten minutes, and had just started digging through his email inbox, when he heard a familiar voice.

“What are you doing here?” Cynthia was standing just inside the doorway to Brian’s office, her hands on her hips.

“What’s it look like? I’m working.” He turned back to his email and hoped she would go away. Although he knew that wasn’t likely. Cynthia didn’t give up easily. That was one of the things he liked about her most of the time. Just not right now. Not on this subject.

“You are not supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be at home. Does Justin know you’re here?”

“Christ, I feel fine,” Brian grumbled as he turned to face her. “And he’s not my fucking keeper.”

“Sure, you feel fine for the moment. But I’ll tell you right now, I’m not dragging your tired ass out of here in two hours when you crash.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Have you stopped to think that maybe the reason you’re feeling better is because you’ve taken some time to rest? Like you should have been from the start, if you hadn’t been too proud to let us help you?”

Brian didn’t respond. He just turned back to the computer and clicked the mouse to open another message.

“Fine,” Cynthia said after a few seconds of silence had gone by. “Suit yourself.” He heard her turn and walk back out the door.

Good, he thought to himself, although he was a little surprised she’d capitulated so quickly to his staying in the office. That wasn’t really like her.

He found out about 15 minutes later that “suit yourself” apparently hadn’t meant, “go ahead and do what you want.” It had meant, “Fine, if you’re going to make me do this, I will.”

This time, Brian heard two sets of footsteps enter his office, and the next thing he knew, Cynthia was standing on the other side of his desk, her palms pressing down onto it as she leaned toward him. Ted was standing behind her, looking slightly uncomfortable. Confrontation really wasn’t Ted’s strong suit, after all.

“Look,” Cynthia said, in her no-nonsense, don’t-mess-with-me tone. “I know you like to be in control. You like to know everything that’s going on all the time. It’s part of what makes you so good at your job. But I need you to know, in no uncertain terms, that we have this covered. Everything here is fine, and we will let you know if you are needed. But right now, you need to be at home. In bed. Resting. Ted is taking you home. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Brian blinked at her and raised his eyebrows. She had balls, that was for sure. He wanted to be surprised that she’d taken him to task like that, but he really wasn’t.

“Did you hear me?” she said, her voice so low it was almost a growl. “I said, you’re going home. We will see you no earlier than next Monday. And for Christ’s sake, can you trust us that we know what the fuck we’re doing?”

He sighed and closed the message he’d been reading, and started the process of shutting his computer back down. He knew Cynthia well enough to know that arguing with her would be pointless. She’d fight with him until he was exhausted, and then she would drag him out of the building once he was too tired to fight, in spite of the fact that she’d just said she refused to drag him out when he crashed from pushing himself too hard. So he stood up and put his coat back on.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll go home. Only because if you’re in here standing over me all day, none of us will get any work done. But I want a daily briefing on what’s going on here. You didn’t call me even one time last week.”

“Because I didn’t need to.” She stood and straightened the hem of her blouse. “And I don’t need to do that this week either. You need to focus on getting better. That’s it. Don’t argue with me.” She walked around behind his desk and took him by the shoulders, guiding him toward Ted and giving him a gentle shove forward. “Now, go home.”

Brian walked side-by-side with Ted out of the office, neither of them saying a word. They sat in silence as Ted drove to the nondescript brick building that housed Brian’s loft apartment.

“Thanks for the ride,” Brian muttered as he reached for the door handle so he could exit the car.

“We really do have it all under control,” Ted said. “I promise. Your baby’s safe.”

“I know.” Brian pulled his lips between his teeth. He did know. He just didn’t like feeling powerless, and he’d had his fill of that in the last week. Still had another week to go, too. “Thanks again,” Brian said. He turned and walked toward the entrance to the building, as Ted drove away.

As he rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, Brian hoped that Justin wasn’t home, so he wouldn’t have to deal with another confrontation about where he’d been. One was enough for today. Luckily, Justin wasn’t back yet. Brian had dodged that bullet. He could feel the all-too-familiar fatigue starting to descend upon him now, as he draped his coat over one of the barstools in the kitchen and walked over to the sofa, collapsing down onto it. He probably had gotten out of the office at exactly the right time, as much as he hated to admit it.

The rest of the afternoon went much like the afternoons of the previous week had. At least it was somewhat predictable now, Brian thought to himself. While sometimes things varied in intensity, and there might be slight differences in timing, for the most part, he had at least a rough idea of what was about to happen most of the time, which made it at least a little easier to submit to it. That didn’t mean he liked it -- not by any stretch of the imagination -- but at this point, he took comfort in the fact that there probably wouldn’t be any more surprises.

Lindsay had called at one point, and Brian had answered it, against his better judgment. As with most conversations he had with Lindsay, she did most of the talking, which was a good thing, because Brian was half asleep for most of the call. But he did pick up that Melanie’s mysterious absence at Sunday night’s dinner was because she and Lindsay were fighting. And he could have sworn he heard Lindsay say that the reason they were fighting was because Lindsay had sex with some guy at the art gallery, but he figured he must have misunderstood. Why would Lindsay cheat on Melanie? That didn’t make any sense. They’d been together for-fucking-ever. Maybe that wasn’t what she’d said at all. Maybe it was just his addled, exhausted brain, making shit up. He was too out of it to ask questions, though, and didn’t even remember ending the phone call. But apparently he’d said all the right things, because she hadn’t called back or come over. Thank God.

Justin came home in the early afternoon, just as an exhausted and sweaty Brian was crawling back into bed, after returning from the bathroom. Justin spent the rest of the afternoon on the bed with his sketchpad and textbooks scattered around him, as Brian drifted in and out of wakefulness. He brought Brian water, soup, tea, and a cool, damp washcloth to lay over his forehead when he was having another one of those goddamn hot flashes. Justin gently rubbed Brian’s back when he was curled in on himself with a painful muscle spasm. Justin was ubiquitous. Always there. Doing what needed to be done, without Brian having to ask. And Brian was quietly grateful for that.

Later that night, long after dinner was done and Brian was settling in to bed again at what he considered to be a toddler’s bedtime -- but whatever-the-fuck, he was absolutely beat -- Justin’s cell phone rang. He didn’t go outside to take the call this time. He just stood over on the other side of the loft, behind Brian’s desk, probably because he didn’t want to disturb Brian if he was already asleep. Justin’s voice was so quiet that Brian couldn’t make out what he was saying. At least, not at the beginning of the call. Gradually, Justin’s volume increased slightly as he became more agitated with whomever was on the other end of the line.

Brian heard nine words come out of Justin’s mouth in an irritated, semi-whispered hiss, before the urge to sleep overtook his desire to listen in on the call.

“Stop asking me about it, because I’m not going.”