Brian awoke when he heard Michael calling his name.

"Brian!" Michael yelled through the partially-opened window of the Jeep.

Brian turned the key in the ignition and rolled the window the rest of the way down. "What?" he asked.

"Did you sleep out here?" Michael asked, seeing as how Brian had the seat reclined and was still wearing the same clothes he had on the day before.

"Yeah, so?" Brian asked as he adjusted his seat back upright.

"So?" Michael said. "You once refused to go camping with us in the Poconos because you'd be sleeping on a cot, and here you are spending the night in your car? I mean, when was the last time you showered?"

Brian thought about it. "Thursday morning, two days ago."

Michael made a disgusted face before opening the driver's side door. "Move over, I'm taking you home."

"No, I need to go inside to see if Justin's test results have come back," Brian said as he tried to push Michael out of the way, hurting his broken hand in the process.

"No," Michael said sternly, "you need to take a shower, change your clothes, and brush your teeth- you smell like a jock strap. Then we can come back here."

Brian sighed in defeat before he moved over to the passenger side. "What are you even doing here? What time is it?"

"Quarter to seven," Michael said as he got into the driver's seat and turned over the engine. He had to reach over to help Brian put on his seat belt. "Ma had to go into work, so she dropped me off here. I tried to call your cell last night, but it went straight to voicemail."

"The battery died, because it hasn't been charged in two days," Brian said as Michael pulled out of the parking space.

"Then I called the loft, and when you didn't pick up I figured you were still here," Michael continued. "Ma dropped me near your car, but the last thing I expected to find was you asleep in it."

Brian pulled the Velcro straps loose on his splint. "Shit, this hurts worse than it did yesterday. Good thing I still have some Vicodin at home, left over from my surgery."

"They didn't give you anything for your hand?" Michael asked.

"No, they said to take over-the-counter stuff, but fuck that."

After arriving at the loft, Brian took off the splint and stripped off his stinky clothes. He stepped into the shower and turned on the water as hot as he could stand it.

He realized how much trouble his hand was going to be over the next several weeks as he tried to wash his hair. Putting the shampoo bottle in the crook of his right elbow, he popped the top open with his left hand. He poured some shampoo into his swollen right hand and felt a jolt of pain as he tried to lather his hair with his fingertips.

"Ow, fuck!" Brian yelled.              

Michael came into the bathroom a few moments later. "What's wrong?"

"My fucking hand, of course," Brian growled.

"Do you need some help?"

"I can handle washing my hair left-handed, but I won't be able to wash my body with one hand."

Michael opened the glass shower door. "Give me the soap."

Brian handed over his French milled soap, and Michael grabbed a clean wash cloth and lathered it up for him in the sink. He gave the bar back to Brian, but Brian didn't reach out for the wash cloth after putting the soap back on the ledge.

"I can't wash my left arm," Brian said.

Michael reached inside the shower and soaped up Brian's left arm for him.

"Christ, this is embarrassing," Brian grumbled.

Michael snorted. "What? I've seen you take a shower at the gym before... many times."

"No, I can't even shower by myself," Brian answered as he took the wash cloth from Michael to finish washing the rest of his body with his left hand. "The doctor in the ER said that the hand specialist may put me in a hard cast next week after the swelling goes down, and I won't be able to get that wet at all. Hell, I won't be able to do a damned thing by myself."

Michael went over to the sink to rinse the soap off his hands. "I could come and stay with you here, and help you out when you need me to. I am kind of homeless, you know."

He heard Brian sigh and mumble something.

"What?" Michael asked.

"I was hoping that Justin would... never mind."

"What, that Justin would be coming back here?" Michael guessed.

"Well... yeah," Brian said. "But he threw me out of his room last night."

"You were able to see him?"

"Yeah, but he didn't want to listen to me."

Brian got out of the shower a couple minutes later, and Michael helped him dry off.

"Get me one of those pills out of the medicine cabinet, will you?" Brian asked.

Michael found the bottle of Vicodin, and Brian swallowed one with some tap water.

Brian then looked at himself in the mirror. "I need to shave, but I'll probably cut the piss out of myself if I do it left-handed."

Michael ended up shaving Brian's face for him, and then got his tooth brush ready so Brian could brush his teeth.

"You should have thought about this before you punched that machine," Michael said.

Brian rinsed his mouth and said, "I didn't think beyond that moment, obviously. The last thing I ever punched was a tree trunk when I was a teenager, but I didn't break my hand."

Michael recalled seeing Brian's hand after that episode, which was caused by one of Brian's many arguments with his mother. "Yeah, but you bloodied your knuckles up pretty bad."

"It was either bloody up my knuckles or bloody up Saint Joanie's face."

********************

After running by a coffee shop and grabbing some coffee and bagels, Michael drove himself and Brian back to the hospital. Brian led the way up to Justin's room.

"Will you go in and see if Jennifer's in there?" Brian asked Michael in the hallway. "Wouldn't want Sunshine to scream at me to ‘get the fuck out' again."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "Is the Stud of Liberty Avenue actually scared of a little blonde twink?"

"Just go in there, smartass," Brian said through gritted teeth.

Michael chuckled before walking into the room, where he found Justin propped up in bed watching something on TV. His mother was sitting in the chair next to the bed, and she was working on a cross-stitch pattern.

Justin scowled at him. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Good morning, Michael," Jennifer said, ignoring her rude son.

"You two met?" Justin asked his mother.

"Yeah, he was here with Debbie and Brian yesterday," Jennifer answered, surprising Justin.

"Speaking of Brian, he's out in the hall," Michael said to Jennifer.

"Oh," Jennifer said before standing up and putting her cross-stitching on the chair. She told Justin she'd be back in a minute before walking out into the hallway with Michael.

"Have they gotten his test results back yet?" Brian asked Jennifer, cutting right to the chase without exchanging pleasantries.

"Yes. Dr. Collins called me around six o'clock this morning," she said, unable to hold back from smiling. "Justin's biopsy, CT scan, and blood tests were fine- he's not rejecting his kidney."

Brian huffed out a breath, a look of pure relief appearing on his face. "That's great."

"What made him sick then?" Michael asked.

"They think he just caught a stomach virus in the last few days, which caused the high fever and poor appetite. The fact that he couldn't eat all day made his symptoms worse because he has type 1 diabetes. He was still giving himself his insulin, but when you don't eat after you inject it, it can cause an insulin overdose and a dangerous drop in blood sugar."

"But why didn't he tell anyone he was sick, before he ended up at Melanie and Lindsay's house?" Michael asked. "I mean, Brian said that Justin seemed kind of sick on Thursday afternoon, but..."

Jennifer sighed. "Justin has always been this way," she said in a hushed voice. "Ever since we found out he was diabetic when he was six, he's been secretive about his health. He would lie to me and his father about monitoring his blood sugar, taking his insulin, and watching his diet like he knew he was supposed to, and then we'd end up having to rush him to the emergency room a few times a year. He would also pretend like he wasn't sick when he actually was, because he absolutely hated going to the doctor. The older he's gotten, the more stubborn he's become about his health. He's gotten a lot better about taking care of himself since his kidneys failed a couple years ago, but I wasn't really all that shocked when he was rushed here in an ambulance the other night."

"So, it's his fault that he ended up in here?" Michael asked. "If he had just told someone earlier that he wasn't feeling well, instead of being so stubborn-"

"Michael," Brian said in a warning tone. "It's not Justin's fault that he's lying in that hospital bed."

"Then whose fault is it?" Michael asked.

"Mine," Brian said. "If I had just stayed home with Justin the other night instead of going to Babylon with you, I would have realized how sick he was. I would have made him eat something before his blood sugar got so low and I would have dragged his ass to the hospital before his temperature got so high, even if I had to carry him out kicking and screaming."

"You can't blame yourself for this," Jennifer said to Brian. "Justin knows by now that he has to be careful with his health, and he certainly knew that he should have at least called a doctor to see if he should come in and get checked out, way before he got so sick. I mean, Lindsay told me that her partner had to demand that Justin go to the hospital-"

"Oh, so this is my fault, Mom?" Justin asked from the open doorway of his room, his hand wrapped around his IV stand.

"Honey, I didn't say that," Jennifer said.

"Then what are you saying?"

Jennifer bit her lip as she walked closer to her son. "Justin..."

"You know what? How about all three of you just get the fuck out of here, huh?" Justin then directed at Jennifer, "I don't need you constantly reminding me that I'm too fucking stupid to take care of myself."

"Justin!" Jennifer said in disbelief. "I've never insinuated anything like that!"

He then looked at Michael. "And I certainly don't need you talking shit about me, when you don't even know me." Finally, looking at Brian, he said, "And I don't need you...period."

Justin turned around to drag the IV stand back into his room.

Jennifer tried to follow him. "Justin, please-"

"Go home, Mother!" Justin yelled. "Go back to your husband- you two deserve each other."

"I'm leaving your father," Jennifer informed him.

Justin paused and looked back. "What?"

"You heard me," Jennifer said. "I've actually been thinking about it for a long time, but after the last couple of weeks, I've decided that I absolutely cannot be with a man like that anymore. A man who is so closed-minded about gay people, that he would disown his only child solely because of his sexual orientation."

"You... you're leaving him because of me?" Justin asked, his eyes welling up with tears.

Jennifer walked over and placed her hand on Justin's cheek. "I'm leaving him for the both of us, Baby. No matter what you are or what you do, you're still my son and I'll always love you."

Justin gave her a little smile before wrapping his arms around her. "I love you, too, Mom. I'm sorry for-"

"None of this is your fault," Jennifer assured him. "You didn't ask for any of this to happen to you, and it's not your fault that you got sick this time."

"But you're right. I should have told someone that I wasn't feeling well and I wouldn't have gotten so bad."

Jennifer shook her head. "What's done is done, and what's important is that you're going to be okay once this virus runs its course."

Michael put his hand on Brian's shoulder. "Let's go."

He began to steer Brian away, but Brian stood rooted to the spot. "Justin-"

"Brian... it's over," Justin said, tears running down his cheeks. "We clearly want different things in our lives, and we're better off going our separate ways."

Brian didn't say anything, but he continued to stare into Justin's eyes until the blonde turned to walk back into his room. Jennifer followed him inside.

"You heard him. Let's go," Michael repeated.

"No," Brian said. "It's not over until he gives me a chance to explain. I'm not going anywhere."

"Were you not listening? The kid said that it's over. He doesn't want you anymore... and I think you're better off without him and his baggage, anyway."

"Shut up, Michael," Brian snarled. "Nobody asked you. Just get the fuck out of here, okay?"

"I'm not leaving you here," Michael said. "How will you get home? It's not safe to drive when you're on Vicodin and with your hand the way it is."

"Fuck off, Michael!" Brian yelled before throwing his keys at him. "Take the Jeep and get out of my face."

"No, I'm not leaving without you!"

Suddenly, a security guard came walking towards them. "Gentleman, would you mind taking this outside? This is a hospital, where a lot of sick people need some peace and quiet."

Brian looked at the guard with fire in his eyes. "Why don't you mind your own fucking-"

"Brian!" Michael yelled as he grabbed the other man's shoulders. "Can we please go before you get us both arrested?"

After a brief stare down with the guard, Brian turned around and began walking toward the elevators to leave, Michael following behind him.