Brian’s cab ride home had been absolutely torturous, as he sat in the back seat trying to keep himself from being sick. He could hardly hold his eyes open, but closing them made him feel even more nauseous when combined with the motion of the car.

“Sir, we’re here,” the driver finally said, after what seemed like the longest drive ever, even though they’d really only traveled a handful of blocks.

“Thank you,” Brian croaked miserably as he handed the driver a wad of cash with shaking hands. He held tightly onto the car door as he stood, pausing for a moment to get his balance before stepping onto the sidewalk and starting the trek toward the front door of his apartment building. Since when did this sidewalk get so long?

He really hadn’t been prepared for just how much this shit was kicking his ass, even though he’d been told more than once what side effects to expect from the radiation therapy. He’d given his oncologist’s warnings the usual Brian Kinney treatment -- thinking that those things were what happened to lesser human beings who didn’t know how to handle themselves. People who were weak. Not to Brian Fucking Kinney.

But here stood Brian Fucking Kinney, so exhausted that he barely had the strength to pull open the glass door at the entrance to the building. He did get through the door, albeit sluggishly. Thankfully the elevator was already on the ground floor, so he wouldn’t have to stand around and wait for it to come back down. He raised the gate, moving slowly and painfully, stepped in, lowered the gate back down, and began his ascent up to the top floor.

He didn’t even know if Justin would be home, since Brian himself was not usually home at this hour. On one hand, he hoped Justin wasn’t home, because Brian really didn’t want Justin to see him like he was right now, although he didn’t know why he felt that way -- why there was an undercurrent of fear and embarrassment beneath how exceedingly ill he felt right now. On the other hand, he hoped Justin was home, because Brian was finding it difficult to stand upright and had no idea how he was going to get all the way to his bed -- the one place he really, really wanted to be right now, more than anything -- without collapsing. And he was somehow supposed to get up tomorrow morning and do it all over again. And again. And again. For two fucking weeks.

Brian leaned against the back wall of the elevator as it crawled toward the top floor, closing his eyes and swallowing hard to hold back the sickness that was still threatening to occur, even though he long ago had absolutely nothing in his stomach. Not even water. He’d tried that before he left the office, and found that he couldn’t even keep that down. Apparently now that his fate wasn’t as likely to be dying of cancer, it would be dying of dehydration instead.

When the elevator finally slowed to a stop, Brian opened his eyes and reluctantly pushed his body away from the wall, bending down to open the gate once again. Why the fuck didn’t the landlord replace this stupid freight elevator with something more modern, with an automatic door? He briefly wondered if he should call and complain, but then realized that replacing the elevator would mean it would be out of commission for weeks, and he’d have to take the stairs, which would be exponentially worse right now. So, the old, rickety elevator would have to stay. And hopefully stay working.

He fished his keys out of his coat pocket, jammed one into the lock, and turned it. He almost didn’t have the strength to slide the heavy, metal door open, and had to lean heavily onto the door frame as soon as he had it open. The room seemed to be tilting slightly, and somewhere along the way the chill he’d been feeling back at the office had morphed into unbearable heat. He needed to get his coat off, but his arms felt too heavy right now.

“Brian?” he heard Justin’s voice call from the bedroom, just before the younger man’s quick footsteps descending the three stairs that led to the living area. “Are you okay?”

Brian tried to gather as much stamina as he could to stop leaning on the doorway, stand upright, and step into the loft. As if he needed to prove that the answer to Justin’s question was yes, even though it was painfully obvious that the answer was no, he wasn't okay. He left the door standing wide open simply because he didn’t think he could manage both closing the door and walking across the room. He chose walking across the room, just trying to make it to the sofa without falling over.

Justin was beside him quickly, wrapping an arm around Brian’s waist and allowing him to lean a good portion of his weight onto Justin’s body. As much as Brian hated showing weakness, in that moment, he was thankful Justin was there, although some small part of him still wanted to protest Justin’s help, to try to preserve his pride. Justin got him over to the couch, helped him out of his coat, and supported him as he sat down. Brian settled back against the pillows, hugging his arms around his body. He already felt damp with sweat from the fire that seemed to be burning inside of him now, consuming him from the inside out. A few seconds later, he heard the door to the loft slide shut, and a few seconds after that, he felt the sofa cushions sink down a bit as Justin took a seat beside him.

“You promised you’d call me,” Justin said softly. Apparently Brian looked in too bad of shape for Justin to be angry with him. Although Brian had to admit he would have been a hell of a lot more comfortable with anger than he was with compassion. Anger, he knew what to do with. Compassion was a lot harder to take in. Brian had broken his promise. Justin should have been livid right now. But he didn't sound that way at all. He sounded worried.

“I’m really hoping you didn’t drive home like this,” Justin said, his voice even more hushed now.

“I didn’t know where you’d be,” Brian mumbled. “I asked Ted to call me a cab.”

“Does Ted know?” Justin didn’t have to use specifics; Brian knew exactly what he meant.

“He does now.” Brian moaned and pulled his arms tighter around his stomach as some sort of cramp pulsed through his lower abdomen. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his face twist into a painful grimace.

“What’s wrong?” Justin’s concern was clear from his voice. Brian felt Justin’s hand settle on his knee.

“I think my entire digestive system...” Brian paused and swallowed hard again, “...is revolting.”

“Do you need me to help you to the bathroom?”

“No,” Brian choked out as he gritted his teeth against the pain that was moving through his abdomen in waves. He didn’t think he could stand up right now, even with help. “There shouldn’t be anything left in there,” he said. Every time Brian spoke, he could feel his stomach rolling. He kept having to stop every few words to swallow, in what would probably turn out to be a futile attempt to keep things moving in the right direction -- down instead of up. He opened his eyes and looked at Justin, whose big, blue eyes held so much of that damn compassion and worry that Brian could no longer look him in the eye, because it made him uncomfortable to see it. He looked down at the coffee table in front of them instead.

“I don’t know why you tried to go to work today.”

“No lectures, please.” Brian didn’t have the energy to argue about this. He’d gone to work because he felt like he had no choice. He still felt like he had no choice, although he was starting to seriously doubt whether or not he’d be able to pull it off, if this was the scene that was going to repeat every weekday for the next two weeks. God forbid if it got any worse. Brian wasn’t sure how that was even possible right now. He didn’t want to entertain the thought.

Justin sighed. “Do you think you can make it to the bed?”

“Give me a few minutes here first.”

Brian leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and focused on making his breaths longer and steadier. The cramps seemed to have subsided for the moment, thankfully. Justin was running his hand lightly over Brian’s thigh. It was a small gesture of comfort, but it really did help, if for no other reason than to remind Brian that he wasn’t alone. Even if he didn’t want to admit that he found it comforting. Or that he needed that right now. But it still felt nice.

“Let me get you some water,” Justin said. “I’ll be right back.”

Brian still didn’t think he could stomach anything right now, not even water, but he didn’t bother to object. Justin’s footsteps grew farther away, glasses clinked against one another on the shelf in the kitchen, the refrigerator opened and closed, and plastic crackled as Justin unscrewed the lid on a bottle, whose contents Brian could hear being poured into the glass. Then the footsteps grew nearer again and the glass was pushed into Brian’s right hand. He took hold of it and tried to will his hand not to tremble as he brought it up to his lips and took a small sip. The cold water felt good going down -- a welcome contrast to the heat that was still radiating through his body, although not quite as intensely as it had been just a few minutes before. When that sip seemed to settle fairly well after a minute or two, he took another, then another. Maybe he was done with the vomiting for awhile. He sure as fuck hoped so.

“Ready to try to go to bed now?”

Brian nodded slightly, keeping his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to look at Justin. Now, he was back to feeling like he was about to fall asleep sitting up. He wanted so badly to resist all of Justin’s help -- to shoot off some smartass remark as if that would somehow, in Brian’s mind, prove that he didn’t need anyone to help him walk the short distance across the loft to the bedroom.

Justin gently took the glass from Brian’s hand and wrapped his arm around Brian’s waist, helping him back to his feet. Brian had to open his eyes now so as not to trip over anything, but he still avoided looking at Justin. He hated how much he was having to lean on the younger man to stay steady and walk very slowly toward the bedroom. His legs and feet felt like they were made of lead as they moved up the steps together, finally making it to the bedroom, where Brian sank down onto the wooden ledge that surrounded the bed. He bent down to take his shoes and socks off, ignoring the slightly dizzy feeling that came over him when he did that, because he wasn’t willing to allow Justin to undress him, although Justin was trying to.

“I can do it,” Brian insisted, his voice not nearly as forceful as he would have liked it to be.

Justin let out a long, audible breath, but didn’t say anything.

Once he got his shoes and socks off, Brian divested himself of the rest of his clothing piece by piece, periodically shrugging off Justin’s attempts at assistance, until he was down to his underwear. He felt so sweaty and sticky, but he knew he didn’t have the energy to take a shower right now, no matter how good it would feel. The sheets were deliciously cool on Brian’s skin as he laid back onto the bed, letting it cradle his tired body. He was completely spent, at fucking 2 p.m., for Christ’s sake. But he could finally let himself sleep.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out as gradually as he could. He felt the bed move slightly as Justin climbed in next to him. The younger man gently draped his arm across Brian’s chest, his hand coming to rest on Brian’s right arm. Justin’s touch was light as he moved his hand slowly up and down Brian’s arm, the same way he’d done with Brian’s thigh earlier, on the sofa. Like he was just letting Brian know he was there. Again, reminding him he wasn’t alone. Every bit of Brian’s current situation went against his usual independent nature, but in that moment, he was too mentally and physically exhausted to fight it. Justin’s gentle kiss on Brian’s cheek was the last thing he remembered before he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he awoke and focused his eyes on the clock, he was surprised to see that three hours had passed. Even though he’d been asleep longer than he would have liked, it did seem to have done him some good. He didn’t exactly feel refreshed, but he felt at least a little bit better than he had when he’d barely been able to crawl into bed. Like maybe he could get out of bed now without falling over. Small victories.

Justin wasn’t in the bed with him anymore, and there were noises of metal spoons against pots and smells of garlic and onions drifting up the stairs from the kitchen, which Brian supposed made sense, given that it was almost dinner time, and he’d slept most of the afternoon. Christ, where had the day gone? He’d started it thinking he’d be able to go about his business as usual once his hour of torture was over, but clearly he’d been very wrong. He hoped tomorrow would be better, because he still had so much that he needed to get done at the office.

Brian climbed out of the bed carefully, testing his footing and his balance to be sure that the dizziness and nausea wasn’t going to return the second he stood up. Thankfully, it didn’t, although his body was still very sore. He walked sluggishly into the bathroom to take a piss and splash some water on his face to rinse away the lingering sticky feeling from whatever-the-fuck that hot flash had been that came over him earlier. When he was done, he put on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt and decided to rejoin the world of the living for as long as his body would let him. Gripping the door frame to guard against any sudden vertigo, Brian walked down the steps into the living room.

“Hey,” Justin greeted him from the kitchen, where he stood behind a steaming pot on the stove. “Feeling any better?”

“Some.” Brian let his body drop down to the sofa and pulled his feet up onto the cushion. Just getting dressed and walking from the bedroom to the living room had taken most of his energy.

“Good. Debbie made you some soup. She brought it by while you were asleep.”

“Jesus, I must have really been out of it if I slept through her being here. I'm pretty sure that voice of hers could wake the dead.”

“You were snoring.” Justin smiled as he continued stirring the soup. “Ted called too. He wanted to be sure you got home okay.”

“Did he mention how the presentation went?”

“You asked him to make the presentation?” Justin was trying to act nonchalant, but he was clearly surprised. As well he should have been. He knew full well Brian’s need for control, particularly in his business.

Brian merely shrugged in response.

“He didn’t mention anything,” Justin said. “He was just worried about you. He said you were already pretty sick when you left.”

“Speaking of work, aren’t you supposed to be at the diner tonight?”

“Deb told me to take the night off.”

Brian sighed. “You can’t keep doing that.” This was exactly why he hadn't wanted anyone to know. It was why he’d told everyone he went to Ibiza. Because he didn’t want to be treated like an invalid or a victim, or like he was going to die. And he certainly didn’t want everyone rearranging their lives to take care of him.

“I didn’t want to leave you alone,” Justin said. “She didn’t want me to either.”

“I’m fine.” Brian tried to make his voice sound as self-assured as possible, although he was painfully aware of its incongruence with his body language as he folded in on himself on the sofa, his body still aching and way too tired for having just woken up from a fucking three-hour nap.

“You’re not fine. Want some soup?” Justin changed the subject before Brian could object to the idea of not being fine. Brian knew he wasn’t fine, but that didn’t mean he wanted anyone else to know that. He didn’t need or want Justin to confirm that he knew. But Justin was almost always able to see right through Brian’s bullshit, and Brian could already see that skill was going to be a thorn in his side for the next few weeks.

He also wasn’t entirely sure if he could stomach food right now, but he knew he had to try. If he didn’t, he was only going to feel worse. So he reluctantly agreed to try the soup, and started the process of moving to the table, much more slowly and painfully than he would have liked. Brian could feel Justin’s eyes on him, watching him as he made his way across the room and sank down into the chair, propping his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands with a sigh. Brian didn’t have the words to articulate just how much he hated showing weakness. But his hand was being forced here, by something completely out of his control, and he didn’t like that at all. Brian Kinney didn’t take well to feeling out of control.

Justin brought a bowl over and set it in front of Brian. It was Debbie's chicken soup. He remembered it well from his teenage years. Anytime he or Michael wasn’t feeling well for any reason, be it physical illness or just needing comfort, she would make that soup. He hadn’t had any in over a decade now -- not since she’d brought several containers of it to his dorm at Carnegie Mellon when he’d caught mono. He had a lot of memories tied to this soup. How it always made him feel warm and like someone cared. She loved him, and this was one way she showed it.

The thought made a lump start to form in Brian’s throat. Goddamn it. He really didn’t want to be emotional right now. He’d long ago reached his limit for showing vulnerability today. It had been much easier for him to decide to let people in to help him through this than it was to actually let them in now that push had come to shove. Now that he actually needed them -- although he’d never admit to that out loud -- it was incredibly difficult to accept. Although he knew that what he actually disliked was the lack of control that came along with needing someone else’s help. Brian closed his eyes and pulled his lips into his mouth, taking a breath to try to compose himself.

“You okay?” Justin said, as Brian heard him set his own bowl on the table and settle into the chair on the other side.

“I’m fine.” Brian tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but it was hard to do. He hoped he’d pulled it off.

“If you don’t feel like eating right now I can--”

“Justin. Please.” Brian cut Justin off, then paused to take a breath that was perceptibly shakier than he would have liked. “I just need a minute.” This wasn’t just about the soup, and he hoped Justin understood that without him saying so, because he didn’t think he could put into words what he was feeling at the moment. Didn’t want to, either.

Thankfully, Justin seemed to get the picture. He didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t come over to Brian either. He let him have his space.

Once Brian felt like he could open his eyes and they wouldn’t have tears in them, he started in on the soup -- one small bite at a time, testing how it felt in his gut. Hoping he’d be able to keep it down. It tasted just the way he remembered it. They ate in silence, with Justin glancing up at Brian every so often, his concern obvious, which made Brian slightly edgy. Brian managed to eat more than half of his bowl of soup before his discomfort at being studied over the dining room table got to be too much. He figured he’d better not push his luck by trying to eat too much anyhow.

“I’m going back to bed,” Brian said abruptly, pushing the chair back and standing a little too quickly, causing him to have to steady himself with his hand on the table before he could proceed. Justin started to stand up as well, presumably to help him back to bed, but Brian held up his other hand and said, “Don’t. I’ve got it. I’m okay.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Justin or himself.

Brian managed to stand upright and take several careful steps into the bedroom without falling, before curling up on his side in the bed and pulling a pillow over his head to shut out the world.

“Brian,” he heard Justin’s voice from the bottom of the stairs. “Do you--”

“I’m fine.” Brian cut Justin off again by repeating the two words that he desperately wanted to will into becoming true, no matter how much of a stretch that seemed to be. “Leave me alone.” He tried to keep the venom out of his words, because he did know that Justin meant well, and Brian also knew that the anger he was feeling right now was at the circumstances, and not Justin himself. But it was hard not to take it out on Justin, simply because he was there. So Brian rephrased his demand, turning it into more of a request that he hoped Justin would honor. He removed the pillow from his face before saying, “Please...I need some time to myself.”

“Okay,” Justin said. His voice was calm. He didn’t sound offended or upset. Part of Brian wanted him to be upset so he’d leave him alone for sure, but another part of Brian -- the one not very many people got to see -- didn’t want to run Justin off. Because Brian didn’t want to think about what it would mean if Justin didn’t come back. Not only for his immediate future, but for the shared future that he knew he wanted with this kid, who wasn’t really a kid anymore. Although the desire to share his life with another human being was still foreign for Brian, and more than a bit unsettling. Most of the time he still wasn’t willing to acknowledge it, even to himself.

“I’ll be out here if you need anything,” Justin said, sounding slightly hurt, if anything, before his footsteps took him farther away again.

The television came on in the living room a few seconds later, and Brian was grateful for the distraction from the thoughts swirling in his head right now. He put the pillow back over his head and pulled his knees in closer to his chest. His stomach felt slightly queasy, but nothing urgent, at least not yet. Hopefully if he stayed still, it would fade away.

His frustration with this whole situation was quickly escalating. This was already much worse than he’d ever thought it would be, and it was probably about to get even worse than that. He was stressed about the pile of work that he knew he’d left on his desk at Kinnetik, that had probably grown even more this afternoon in his absence. He was worried about how the presentation had gone with Dandy Lube, with Ted in his place. He’d hated doing that, but he didn’t have a choice. There was no way he would have been able to make that presentation. He had to find a way to try to get through the whole day at the office tomorrow, although he honestly had no fucking clue how he was going to do that.

He spent a long time lying in the bed, brooding, before the nausea won out. He staggered into the bathroom, where he lost a bit of the soup, though not all of it, thankfully. Maybe he’d still get some nutrients out of it. Justin was standing outside the bathroom door with a steaming mug in his hand when Brian slid it back open.

“I’m fine,” Brian insisted, before Justin could say anything. Again, those two words that most certainly weren’t the case. Who the fuck was he fooling? Probably no one, but he’d keep repeating them anyway.

Brian collapsed back into the bed and pulled his legs up toward his chest again, hugging the pillow he’d had over his head earlier. He was back to feeling clammy and a little too warm, though not as much as earlier.

Justin set the mug down on the bedside table next to Brian.

“I made you some ginger tea,” he said. “It’s supposed to help.”

Justin sat down on the edge of the bed, and an uneasy look came over his face. Like maybe he was about to say something that he wasn’t sure he should say. Brian could hear him take a deep breath before he started speaking.

“I don’t think you should go to work tomorrow,” he said.

“I have to.”

“No, you have to take care of yourself.”

“Don’t fucking tell me no, Sunshine. We’ve been over and over this. My business doesn’t stop just because I’ve fucking got cancer, okay? It can’t stop. I have people depending on me now. I have shit I have to do, and there’s nobody else who can do it.”

“What about Ted?”

“He’s a fucking accountant. He doesn’t know the first thing about advertising. Our college degrees might both say ‘business,’ but they’re very different. I can’t ask him to keep trying to play my part.”

“How about Cynthia? She’s worked with you forever.”

“Cynthia doesn’t know.”

“What? Why the fuck not?”

“Because I didn’t want anyone to know!” Brian’s voice was rising, and he was starting to slip into not giving a fuck about that. “Because I thought I would just be able to take care of this whole thing myself, and no one would ever know about it. I know that was stupid, but it was what I wanted.”

“I don’t understand, Brian. I don’t understand why you’d want to go through this by yourself. Why you’d feel like you had to.”

“I already told you!” He was practically shouting now. “Because I’m a fucking coward, and I didn’t want anyone to know it! I’m fucking terrified, okay? And I don’t like that. I don’t know what to do with that.” There. He’d finally said it. It was out in the open. The full magnitude of the fucked up thoughts that had been running in circles in Brian’s brain for the past few weeks.

“Brian, I care about you.” Justin kept his voice calm and even, despite Brian’s increasingly agitated tone. He seemed completely unfazed by Brian’s admission. “We all care about you. We want to help you, so you don’t have to be scared.”

“That’s part of the problem.” Brian lowered his voice to his normal inflection. He knew he needed to stop taking his frustration out on Justin, before he really fucked things up even more than he probably already had. He pushed his face into the pillow that he was still hugging to his chest, because he could feel the tears starting to form in his eyes. The tears that he didn’t want anyone to see. Not right now.

“What? Needing help?” Justin tried to take one of Brian’s hands in his, but Brian jerked it out of his grasp. “Why are you so afraid of needing somebody?”

“Because I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove that I don’t need anybody. Nobody was there for me most of the time anyway. So all the better if I didn’t need them at all.”

“Everybody needs some help sometimes. And that’s okay. Needing help doesn’t make you a weak person, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” Brian buried his face further into the pillow. He physically couldn’t bring himself to look at Justin right now. “I don’t like that I’m doing this to you. You didn’t sign up for this.”

“You’re not a burden, Brian. I’m here because I want to be here. I love you and I want to help you.”

There were those words again. The three little words that had made Brian’s decision for him as he and Justin stood in his office before his supposed trip to Ibiza. Back when he still had both of his testicles.

I love you.

I love you.

Brian didn’t know why those words were so goddamn hard to hear. Why they almost hurt. What made him feel like no one should ever be saying those words to him. At least, not the way that Justin meant them.

What was broken inside of him that kept him from being able to say them back to the one person who deserved to hear them?

He knew he felt it. But he still couldn’t say them back.

Maybe the only reason was because he was a fucking coward. Maybe trying to blame his lack of emotional intelligence on Joan and Jack was simply making excuses. Maybe the real reason he couldn’t bring himself to say the words was because he was scared. Scared of putting himself out there. Risking it all. Being open and honest, instead of trying to hide behind his Brian Fucking Kinney facade.

Brian felt the mattress sink down a bit as Justin slid into bed beside him and placed a hand hesitantly on Brian’s shoulder, as if to check and see if he was okay with being touched right now. Brian hated himself a little bit for making Justin hesitate at all.

When he didn’t object, both of Justin’s arms came around Brian -- and around the pillow he was still clinging to. He could feel the soft thump of Justin’s heartbeat against his back as the younger man spooned him.

“I love you,” Justin whispered, repeating the words one more time. But it was what he added this time that made Brian’s heart ache. “I hope you believe that.”