Monday’s alarm came far too early for Brian’s taste. Not that it interrupted his sleep at all, since he’d been awake for two hours already, too anxious to sleep. Justin had been sleeping soundly, his soft, warm body curled into Brian’s side. His breathing was slow and deep, and Brian tried to use its rhythm to calm his own, but it was no use. This was it. There was no turning back now. No changing his mind and deciding to go a different route. He was all in.

Justin rolled over when the buzzer started and looked sleepily up at Brian.

“You’re up,” the younger man said.

“Yeah. I’ve been up.”

“You need sleep.”

“Well, tell that to my brain. Maybe then it’ll slow down and stop running through all of these doomsday scenarios.”

Justin took Brian’s hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of it. “You’re going to be fine,” he said.

Brian stared up at the ceiling and took in Justin’s words, trying to calm the unease in his mind that just wouldn’t let go, even though he knew Justin was right. “I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop,” he said.

“Stop.” Justin kissed Brian’s lips, as if he was trying to keep him from saying anything else. “You’ll drive yourself nuts.”

“I think that ship has sailed, Sunshine.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Justin repeated. “What time do we have to be there?”

“Not we. I. I have to be there at 7:45. You have class at 8, remember?”

“I can skip.”

“You’re not skipping. I’m not getting you fucking thrown out of school. You’ve stopped and started enough already. You’re finishing your goddamn degree this time.”

“Brian…”

“Don’t ‘Brian’ me. You’re going to class. End of discussion.”

“But--”

“But nothing. I’m a big boy. I can drive myself.”

“You’re stubborn too, you know that?”

“Part of my charm.” Brian smirked at Justin as he slid out from under Justin’s arm and stood up. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“Wasn’t I just the one reassuring you?” Justin said as he rolled out of bed and walked over to Brian, reaching up to give him a hug and a brief kiss.

“Class.” Brian poked Justin gently in the chest. “Promise me you’ll go to class. That I’m not going to walk into the goddamn lobby when I’m done and find you waiting on me.”

“Okay, okay,” Justin relented. “I’ll go to class. But you’d better call me if you need me.”

“Okay,” Brian sighed as he fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was starting to lose his patience with this whole exchange. He didn’t need or want Justin to be this worried about him. Surely he could at least get through the first day of radiation treatment without needing Justin to play nurse.

“I mean it.” Justin grabbed Brian’s shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “You’ve done enough proving that you don’t need anybody.”

“Okay, Jesus Christ,” Brian huffed. “I promise I’ll call you.”

“Good.” Justin pulled Brian in close to him and pressed his face into Brian’s collarbone. “There’s nothing you need to prove to me. I know you’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I would say the same about you,” Brian said softly into Justin’s ear before the blond let go of him and shuffled into the bathroom.

He knew Justin was right, but that didn’t make it any easier for the man who had always prided himself on seeming invincible to entertain the real feelings he was having about this situation. That he was still scared of what was happening to his body, and that fear made him feel weak. He’d been forced into a life of showing no weakness at a very young age by Jack Kinney, who simply wouldn’t have his son being a “sissy boy.” Brian had trained himself to conceal his insecurities behind a strong front, impenetrable by outside forces, except those Brian willingly allowed in -- Mikey and Deb. At least, it had seemed impenetrable until he met Justin.

Brian hadn’t wanted to let Justin past his walls at first. Not at all. But it hadn’t taken Justin long to catch on to what was going on behind Brian’s mask. Justin had latched onto that, reminding Brian once early on in their relationship that he was onto him, and being mean to Justin -- one of Brian’s go-to maneuvers for pushing away people who got too close -- wasn’t going to work. That Brian couldn’t push Justin away, because Justin wouldn’t allow it. Justin kept coming back. Although Brian hadn’t really wanted to push him away anyhow. He’d forced himself because he was uncomfortable with what he felt for Justin. He hadn’t known what to make of the feelings that bubbled up inside him -- and occasionally threatened to overwhelm him -- every time he was around this kid. Sometimes he still didn’t, even now. And sometimes it still felt uncomfortable to accept the things Justin did because he cared for Brian, pure and simple. Because Justin loved him.

“What are you thinking about?” Justin said as he came up behind Brian, who was still standing in the same spot beside the bed, lost somewhere inside his head. He felt Justin’s arm come around his shoulders.

“It’s nothing,” Brian said as he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If you say so.” Justin raised an eyebrow in his typical “I-don’t-believe-you-but-okay” facial expression as he let his hand fall from Brian’s shoulder and turned to go down the steps toward the living area of the loft. “I’ll start breakfast.”

“Don’t bother. I’m not hungry,” Brian sighed.

“Well, you need to try to eat something. Your body needs fuel, remember?”

Brian didn’t respond. He let out a loud exhale as he turned and walked into the bathroom, where he hoped a hot shower would help ease some of the tension in his muscles and the queasy feeling in his stomach. It didn’t.

The smell of the food Justin had made didn’t help his stomach either, when Brian emerged from the bedroom dressed in his suit and tie, knowing that he was going to have to try to force down some of it, because yet again, Justin was right. Brian had been listening, even though he hadn’t really wanted to hear any of it, as one of the nurses at his oncologist’s office had gone through the instructions of how he needed to eat to best support his body during what he was about to put it through. Justin had insisted on accompanying Brian to the appointment, so he’d heard every word of it too, and apparently committed it to memory, judging from the way Brian’s refrigerator looked right now. A far cry from the beer, poppers, and guava juice that were usually the only things in it now that Justin wasn’t technically living at the loft. The only time a home-cooked meal was made in Brian’s kitchen was when Justin made it. And right now, Justin was supposedly still living with Daphne, although he spent most nights at the loft. Brian wasn’t sure who they were kidding. They were essentially living together again now, even if it hadn’t been made formal or official.

“Don’t you think you’re kind of overdressed to just be going to a doctor’s appointment?” Justin asked as he spooned some scrambled eggs onto a plate alongside the sliced fruit and toast that already adorned it. “They’re just going to make you take your clothes off anyway, so what does it matter?”

“I’m going to work afterward,” Brian said nonchalantly as he took a seat at the dining room table and picked up the newspaper that Justin had apparently already retrieved.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Justin brought two plates over to the table and returned to the kitchen to pour coffee for both of them.

“We’ve been over this. I can’t take two weeks off. And I have a meeting with a potential new client this afternoon. Dandy Lube. And it’s not the kind of lube you think.”

Justin completely ignored Brian’s joke. “You don’t even know how this stuff is going to affect you, and you’ve scheduled a meeting for this afternoon?” He set a coffee mug down in front of each of their chairs before taking his seat and starting in on his own breakfast.

“Couldn’t be helped.” Brian shrugged as he took a small sip of coffee, then a bite of the toast, which he hoped would settle his stomach a bit so he could eat some of the other things too. He really didn’t want Justin to think he didn’t appreciate the effort, because he did. “This was the only day they could be here.”

“Well, I hope for your sake that you don’t end up passing out in the conference room or throwing up on someone’s shoes mid-presentation.”

“Quit being a drama princess. I’ll be fine.”

Brian managed to eat a little over half of what was on his plate before giving up. He was surprised that Justin didn’t hassle him about it, but he didn’t. They parted ways shortly thereafter -- Justin reluctantly on his way to school, and Brian on his way to what might as well have been his execution.

The strong scent of antiseptic hit Brian the second he exited the elevator on the fifth floor of the medical arts building that was attached to the hospital via a glass-enclosed pedestrian bridge. With his already queasy stomach, the smell was a little too strong. Brian gulped as he walked through the brightly lit lobby of the oncologist’s office and approached the small window that the receptionist sat behind. He signed in, tried to smile at her and look at least halfway like he wasn’t about to come out of his skin, then went to take a seat in one of the most uncomfortable chairs ever created. He looked around the room at the other people who were waiting -- some clearly other cancer patients, and some for whom that wasn’t so clear. He had to remember that he didn’t know their stories, though. After all, he was one of those “normal” looking people too. And it didn’t mean that he wasn’t stricken with the same disease as the people who had scarves covering their bald heads. Brian felt a little guilty for being thankful that wasn’t him, and hopefully never would be.

“Brian Kinney,” he heard a woman call a few minutes later from a doorway she was propping open with her body. He took a deep breath as he rose from the chair, cursing the way his heart rate had started to climb at the mere mention of his name, and walked over to the doorway, past the nurse, and into a long hallway with several doors.

“How are you today, Mr. Kinney?” she said brightly as she closed the door behind her.

Brian grunted noncommittally. He wasn’t into pleasantries today, but he figured he’d better at least not be rude, since this woman was probably about to assist in aiming a radiation gun at him. So he tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice as he said, “Okay, I guess.”

“A lot of patients are very nervous before their first treatment,” the woman chattered on as she led him through an open door and closed it behind them. “If there’s anything I can answer for you to help put you at ease, I’m happy to do it.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Brian muttered as he shed his coat and laid it over a chair in the corner. He cast a wary glance at the large machine that was about to shoot radiation into his body, noting how cold and uncomfortable everything looked.

“Well, I’ll leave you to change, then.” She handed him one of those godawful cotton hospital gowns that ties up the back and exposes your ass. Normally, clothing that exposed one’s ass would be intriguing for Brian, but not today. Not this. “I’ll knock before I come back in.” With that, she turned and left the room.

Brian slowly shed all of the components of his suit until he’d stripped down to his underwear, then shed that as well. He knew undressing slowly wasn’t really going to stop or delay anything, but he did it anyhow. He put on the gown and tied it the best he could. He’d barely had a chance to do that when he heard her knock. When he didn’t object, she opened the door and helped him up onto the table, then asked him if he was comfortable, which seemed like the world’s stupidest question right now. He was pretty much going out of his mind by this point -- of course he wasn’t comfortable.

Once she got him settled and propped into the correct position, she used the marks on his lower abdomen to line up the equipment, then advised him to relax and settle in, and to be as still as possible until the treatment was finished. With that, she left the room and he was all alone, half naked on a table with the machine looming over him. It wasn’t long before the whirring and beeping started. Not more than a minute or two had passed before Brian wanted to move worse than he had in his entire fucking life. Suddenly his legs itched, his skin crawled, and he just wanted to get the fuck off of that table and out of the building. But he couldn’t do that. So he closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it, distracting himself with thoughts of more pleasant things, like Justin and Gus.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the woman’s hand was on his shoulder and she was saying his name. Brian blinked his eyes open and tried to come back into the present moment.

“That’s it for today, Mr. Kinney,” she said as she helped him sit up. “We’ll see you again tomorrow. And I should warn you, you’ll feel fine for the next few hours, but you’re going to hit a wall around noon -- nausea, pain, fatigue -- they’re all normal side effects. In fact, I would suggest that for the next few days you just stay home and take it easy. Don’t go to work.”

Clearly, she didn’t realize he had a business to run and didn’t have that luxury right now. “Thank you nurse,” he said sardonically. “That’s excellent advice.”

If he could have done that, he probably would have. Probably should have, to be honest. But he had a presentation this afternoon, so he’d have to press on, and hope that her prophecies were incorrect, or at the very least, exaggerated.

Much to Brian’s chagrin, it turned out that she did know what she was talking about. The morning went smoothly, with nothing out of the ordinary to report, but he started to feel a bit drowsy around lunchtime. He was sitting on the sofa in his office reviewing some proof sheets -- wearing his wool coat because he’d also suddenly gotten very cold -- when his eyelids started feeling very heavy. He made the conscious decision to close them for brief moment, and that was apparently all it took. What seemed like only seconds later but was probably close to an hour, Brian was startled awake by Ted standing over him, saying his name.

“Brian?” the older man said, as Brian tried to bring himself back to full consciousness as quickly as he could. He sat up, much more slowly than he wanted to, swallowing back the nausea that had apparently blossomed in his gut while he slept.

“Jesus Christ, what’s wrong?” Ted asked, clearly concerned about having walked in and found his boss napping in the middle of the workday.

Brian hoped he successfully managed to rearrange his face into an expression that reflected what he said next: “Nothing. I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“Well, for one thing you look like shit.”

“Thank you,” Brian said derisively.

Ted looked back at the door as if he wanted to make sure they were alone, before taking a seat next to Brian on the sofa and leaning in almost conspiratorially. Brian’s stomach was churning by this point, both from the treatment as well as his worry about how he was going to explain his way out of this one.

“Now, this is the second time this has happened--”

“Fucking accountants. Do you have to keep a record of everything?” Brian closed his eyes and put his head down, knowing that there probably wasn’t going to be a way out of this without telling Ted something.

“I just want you to know that you can trust me, as a friend and as someone who has been through it all. I mean, there’s nothing I haven’t seen or done, which is why I don’t presume to judge anyone. But there’s one thing I know. The first, and hardest step you’ll ever have to take--” Ted paused for a beat, looked toward the door again, and lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “--is admitting you have a problem. And once you’ve done that, you’re on the road to recovery--”

“It’s the big C, Ted,” Brian interrupted him, just wanting at this point to get it the fuck over with so he wouldn’t have to listen to Ted wax eloquent about the merits of his 12-step program. He’d rather Ted know about the cancer than think he’d gone off the deep end with drugs or alcohol and keep hounding him about coming to one of his goddamn meetings.

“Cocaine?”

Brian let out a breath that nearly turned into a chuckle at how dense his chief financial officer was being right now. “It’s bigger.”

“Crystal?”

“Bigger.”

“Caffeine?”

“It’s cancer, Theodore.” Jesus fucking Christ. Of course Ted was going to make him say it out loud -- fully -- and not get away with a euphemism.

Ted was staring at Brian now, in complete and total disbelief. He blinked his eyes a few times and began to stutter. “C- c- c- … c- c-”

Apparently Ted couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud either.

“But relax,” Brian snorted. “They got it. I’m in radiation. I started this morning.” With everything out in the open now, Brian found he could no longer hold back the wave of nausea. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” He got up and tried to walk quickly to the bathroom, although his body was protesting -- suddenly he was very sore in addition to being dead tired and sick as a fucking dog. Barely making it to the toilet in his private bathroom in time, Brian vomited up the coffee he’d had while he’d been trying to keep himself awake. Thankfully, breakfast seemed to have digested and gone on its way by then.

When Brian came back out, Ted was standing by his desk holding a glass of water out to him.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” Ted said. Brian raised an eyebrow at him. “I mean, that you’re going to be alright.”

“Thank you,” Brian said as he limped slowly over to the sofa and sank down onto it again. He settled himself back onto the cushion he’d leaned against the arm of the sofa earlier to act as a pillow, then exhaled with a sigh and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around his stomach and trying to will his body to stop aching. And this was only day one. Christ. What the fuck was he in for?

“Is there anything I can do?” Fucking Ted was still hanging around, but maybe he could be helpful after all.

“As a matter of fact, you can do three things,” Brian said. “First, keep your big mouth shut, or you’re fired.” He sat up again and pointed a finger at Ted, as if to prove that he meant what he said. He’d already told three more people than he’d originally intended on telling, and he really, really needed it to stop here.

“Sealing, sealing.” Ted made a zipping motion with his fingers across his lips. “Second?”

“I want you to cover for me this afternoon.” Brian swallowed forcefully and hoped that he wasn’t going to be sick again. “With Dandy Lube.”

“Cover...for you?”

“Make the presentation. Look, if you could pretend you were Pavarotti at that pathetic pasta palace, you can do this.” Brian laid back down on the sofa cushion in an effort to quell the nausea.

Thankfully, Ted capitulated quickly and didn’t require any further convincing, because Brian wasn’t sure he could do much more talking without throwing up. The older man nodded his head reluctantly. “What’s the third?”

“Call me a cab,” Brian sighed and closed his eyes in resignation. “I’m going home.”