Acknowledging Fears

Chapter 1

Brian didn't say anything, just simply took the bowl of soup Justin had placed on the night table next to him. He still wasn't altogether pleased that Justin was there but better him than Michael. Michael would just turn into a weepy mess, seeing as he was half-Italian, half-drag queen. At least, Justin wouldn't do that.

He ate in silence, Justin keeping a wary eye on him. Keenly aware of the intense scrutiny, he said, "You're pissed at me." That was an understatement. Rarely had he seen the young blond look so mutinous or scared. Justin had really gone off on him. Not that it was entirely undeserved, Brian admitted.

"A bit, yeah," Justin said, pleased that his voice didn't waver. Brian finished the last of the soup and with a meekness completely out of character handed him the bowl.

Justin stood, made to take it to the kitchen, when Brian spoke softly, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry's bullshit." He threw the oft-used line back at Brian who acknowledged it as a direct hit with a barely perceptible nod. "For what?" He valiantly tried to hide his skepticism.

"Lying to you about Ibiza." The fatigue was hitting him with a vengeance and he cursed the nurse at the radiation center to a lifetime without orgasm. He was relieved there was no nausea, at least for the moment.

Justin sighed, taking the bowl to the kitchen. He rinsed it out and put the rest of the batch in the refrigerator. He figured Brian was having a hard enough time keeping it down without trying to fix himself food. Brian wasn't a culinary expert on the best of occasions. He, too, noted the meager contents of the refrigerator. What had Brian been eating? Probably nothing, he realized. Culinary skills just weren't among Brian's many talents.

"You coming back?" Brian's voice was low and guarded.

"Yeah. Need anything from in here?" He was relieved that Brian had stopped trying to kick him out, at least for the moment. It didn't escape him that it was entirely possible that he'd just given up fighting for the moment, that he'd be back to wanting him out of his life the next day. But for now Justin was willing to accept the tacit agreement not to discuss it.

"Water and my briefcase. Can you turn off the lights and set the alarm?"

"Sure." Surely he's not planning on doing any work. He could barely sit up. Eating the fucking chicken soup had been a struggle. Anything more substantial would be impossible.

Returning to the bedroom after complying with Brian's requests, Justin handed him a bottle of water and set the briefcase down next to him. Then he crossed to the closet and retrieved a spare blanket. He'd learned never to make assumptions where Brian was concerned though it'd been a long time since he'd been relegated to sleeping on the sofa.

Brian marked the action and sighed inwardly. "What are you doing?" He ground out the words.

"I was going to sleep in the living room."

Glancing at the clock, Brian shook his head. "It's not even six and that's fucking ridiculous, Justin."

Justin raised an eyebrow, an action very akin to one Brian himself employed. Fuck this, Brian thought. He was certainly in no mood or shape to deal with this. Aloud he said, "I'm not kicking you out of our bed." It was a moment before he realized what he'd said but it was true. It had been a long time since it had just been his bed. Try as he might he couldn't take back the words, and he found he meant them. It was also clear to him that Justin wasn't going anywhere.

It didn't escape Justin's attention that Brian had used the word our bed. For a long time, it had been just Brian's bed and he'd been content to just sleep within arm's length of the older man. Gradually, as Brian became accustomed to sleeping the whole night with someone else, he'd creep closer to Justin, spooning him. So Justin silently replaced the blanket and Brian gave him a soft smile. "Did you bring stuff other than your school bag?"

Justin shook his head. Though he was still at Daphne's, he spent most nights at Brian's. "No, I wasn't----"

"Sure if I'd kick you out or not," Brian finished the statement for him.

It had alarmed him when he'd realized he knew the blond well enough to finish his sentences.

"Yeah," Justin agreed.

He kept a few items at Brian's and stuff was gradually accumulating but he hadn't moved back in and Brian hadn't asked. He figured he and Brian had a Woody-and-Mia type relationship. Thought Brian was happier that way. With a life together but separate. Separate so they could each retain their autonomy.

Though he was beginning to feel pain from the earlier bout of radiation, he said, "Why don't you go back to Daphne's and get some of your things? I'm sure you're hungry and Michael informed me all I have is poppers and bottled water. Take my card, or I think I may have a hundred in cash. Hell, take both." Then, "The keys are on the counter."

"You're gonna let me drive the 'vette?" Justin couldn't hide his astonishment. The 'vette was Brian's baby.

The '71 hunter green Corvette Stingray was Brian's dream car, truly a wet dream on wheels, or an extension of the favored piece of Brian's anatomy. Yes, that one.

"Yes. Go before I change my mind."

"You need anything?"

So many ways to answer that question and Brian felt it was too much effort to reply glibly or sarcastically as he was wont to do. "I can hardly keep anything down, Sunshine. I'll probably just fall asleep. I'm so fucking tired." Responding to the worried glance Justin cast in his direction, he said, "I'll be fine. Take your time."

"I love you," Justin said quietly. Sensing that Brian, on some deep level, needed to know that.

Brian simply nodded. I love you, too remained unsaid.

When the door closed behind Justin, he heaved a sigh of relief. There were things he and Justin needed to discuss. And there were decisions that needed to be made. So Brian picked up the phone and pressed speed dial # 3, listened as the connection was made.

"Sidney Bloom gallery."

"Lindsay Peterson, please."

When Lindsay came on the line, Brian said, "Linz, it's Bri. I need to talk to you and your bitter half."

"What's wrong?" The statuesque blonde immediately went into mother mode. Brian brought out her protective instincts. And he never opted to speak to Melanie unless he had to.

Like Michael and Justin, Linz could sense when all was not right with Brian. It irritated him a great deal. The "man of ice" thing worked for years until a certain blond caused him to begin to melt. Oh, fuck, she's gonna mother me to death. I already have one of those. I don't need another. But he held his tongue, simply saying, "Just come over Saturday morning."

As an afterthought he added, "Bring Gus. I don't want him forgetting his old man."

Linz felt suddenly cold, as fingers of ice danced along her spine. Something was wrong, very wrong. "Bri, what the fuck is wrong?" She spoke softly, not wanting to alarm other patrons of the gallery.

There were reasons Lindsay and Michael were his best friends. They would both support him till the bitter end. And both loved him in spite of all his faults, of which there were many. Unlike Justin who loved him because of his faults, not in spite of them. The difference was their love was unwavering. He couldn't say the same about Justin, though the blond had come back for more on more than one occasion.

"Bri." There was a high note of panic in Lindsay's voice.

Shit. "Saturday. Make sure you bring Melanie and Sonny Boy."

Without another word, he hung up the phone, leaving Lindsay standing in the middle of the gallery with a shell-shocked expression on her face and fear closing a vise-like grip on her heart.

Across town, Justin had reached the apartment he shared with Daphne. Daphne stood in his doorway, watching him pack. "How is he?" She asked, chocolate brown eyes dull with worry.

"Grumpy."

"You would be too if you had cancer. Is he undergoing treatment?"

"Yeah, radiation. I guess they wait to see if the radiation helps before starting chemo." Justin so didn't want to think about this, didn't want to acknowledge that he might actually lose Brian to something neither one of them could control. Funny how fate works, isn't it? Christ, this is fucking surreal.

"How are you doing?"

Justin simply looked at her. "Trying to be strong for him. I can't imagine my life without him in it. He can be exasperating and infuriating but I love him, Daph. I can't believe he thinks I'd leave him because he lost a ball."

Daphne crept a little farther into the room. For two people who loved each other, they sure could be blind. "He's scared, Justin. You didn't seem him that night you got hurt." That image of Brian cradling Justin's crumpled body was forever seared into her brain. "Brian wouldn't let anyone close to you or him. And you have left him."

"But Ethan was a mistake. Brian knows that. He knows I love him."

Daphne patiently nodded. "Remember Psych 101?"

"Yes," Justin said, slowly.

"Kubler-Ross said there were five stages of grief. It's going to take him some time. You're going to have to be patient. Brian's grieving. It's a good thing he's letting you in. Pushing you away was his way of giving you an out."

Justin remembered the last time Brian'd pushed him away. It'd backfired. So he stared at his best friend. "Daph, we're partners. We made a commitment. I'm not gonna walk out on him. I've seen him at his worst."

She shook her head. Somehow she doubted that. She figured they'd just barely begun to embark on the worst parts of things. She'd seen cancer survivors. Brian was a fighter but he was also a moody, mercurial man who closed things up and then finally exploded. It was what a communication professor had once referred to as a "gunny-sacker". And she had a suspicion that he was also prone to depression, though he'd be damned if he admit to it. "No, you haven't. The worst is yet to come. Prove to him you're up to the challenge. Brian was high maintenance before. A complete control freak."

"Yeah."

"Justin, sweetie, he has no control over this. He's bound to be feeling all sorts of things including rage. Just let him know you're there for him."

"You mind if I stay with him, if I'm not around as much?"

She snorted. "Just, I'd be worried if you weren't staying with him. Most of your stuff is at the loft anyway. You only come by when things are rocky. Hell, I love him too. He can be a shit but he's your shit."

Justin hugged her. "Thanks, Daph."

"What are best friends for?" she quipped. Now go home to the man you love, she thought.

An hour and a half later, Justin returned to a darkened loft, arms laden with bags.

"How's my favorite girl?"

Justin jumped at the sound of Brian's voice. He'd figured he'd be out. "She's fine. I told her I might not be back for a while."

Brian padded down the stairs, looking more comfortable in a worn pair of jeans and an old white wife-beater. "Hope that's okay."

Flipping on the light in the kitchen, Brian said, resigned, "It's okay. We need to talk."

Justin didn't like the sound of that. "I think that's the first time you've ever said that. Are you feeling any better?"

"Took a pain pill. It hasn't kicked in yet. Justin, I'm sorry." There was such sincerity in Brian's voice it tore him up inside. It was as if something had broken and the pieces had been rearranged in such a way that making it whole again was impossible.

"For?"

"Not telling you the truth. Thinking you'd walk out on me again. I'm used to making decisions without double-checking with someone else. So if I fuck up, it's because this is goddamn new to me."

"It's okay."

The quiet acceptance with which Justin delivered his response pissed Brian off. "It's not okay. I've been a fucking asshole to you. You didn't sign on for this, Justin."

Justin set the bottles of guava juice and Perrier down on the counter. "I made a commitment, Brian. I meant what I said."

"And I did too. But I don't have any right to ask you to stay here, to give up a portion of your life because of me. I won't do that."

Brian sat down on one of the barstools. Justin put the two bottles up, figuring the rest of the groceries could wait. He walked around the counter and sat next to Brian. They sat next to each other in uneasy silence until Brian broke it. "I did too."

"What?"

It wasn't clear whether he was being deliberately obtuse or really wasn't following him. "I made a commitment too. I meant what I said then, Justin." His words were quiet.

He hesitated for a long moment, thinking about what he wanted to say next. Then decided on simple truth rather than spinning his response. He figured Justin could take the truth. "About being there for you. About how I feel about you. About us. The idea of us still scares the shit out of me. But I'm willing to try because I ---"

Fuck. I think he's actually going to say it. Justin waited tensely. He'd wanted Brian to say it for years but now the simple act of admitting his feelings terrified him. For once, Justin would've given almost anything for a bottle of Jim Beam or Absolut to be sitting between them. But Brian was doing this stone-cold sober.

"Bri, I know. You don't have to do this."

Brian cut him off. "I know I don't have to. This isn't about me dying. If anything this has been a wake-up call. It's about me living."

"Brian," Justin started.

"Shut up." Brian suddenly stood, the sudden movement nearly toppling the bar stool. He felt nauseous and knew it wasn't from the radiation, or not the effects of the radiation alone. "I need to do this," he said, as if he were trying to convince himself of that. He took up the familiar pose at the window that looked out over Pittsburgh.

Justin stood as well. He felt weak. The moment he'd been anticipating and now he'd give anything for it not to come. Brian couldn't die. He just couldn't. He knew he could live without Brian; he'd done it after the bashing and for the brief interval between Ethan and Brian, take two. He just didn't want to.

"When you got hurt, I felt such tremendous pain. Pain like my heart had been torn out. The paramedics wouldn't let me ride in the ambulance at first cause I wasn't family. I was more your family than your fucking father. I wouldn't let you go. God, you looked so small and lifeless and I knew then that it would kill me to lose you. It hit me then like a fucking tsunami. I'd known since the King of Babylon contest. Maybe before. I'd fallen for you. You had my heart." He paused a moment, then said ever so quietly, "Reminded me I had one. For years, I felt like the Tin Man."

He turned to look back at Justin. Tears stood unshed in Brian's hazel eyes, dark with emotion. "I sat in the hospital corridor for three fucking days, praying to a God that hates me, hates us, that you'd pull through. After you woke up, I'd go to the hospital and watch you sleep. It was the only way I'd be able to sleep. Everyone thought I'd just returned to my old ways of drinking, getting high, and fucking anything available. But I was there every night, watching you through the glass. You know that, right? I told you when we got back together that I was there. I wore that goddamn scarf as a reminder. A reminder to me that I'd failed to protect you, that you'd gotten hurt because of me. That you were better off without me. Hell, that everyone was better off without me because I'd only ever hurt you. You lost your dad because of me."

Justin started at that. "God, Brian---"

"No fucking sympathy, Sunshine. Not now."

Justin stood and joined Brian at the window, close enough to touch but knew Brian would shy away from the gesture. At times, he was as skittish as a horse. Thousands of men had touched every part of his body but he still shied away from the gentlest of touches at the strangest of times. It never failed to amaze Justin how fragile Brian could be, when he was the strongest of them all.

Brian pretended not to notice that his voice was catching. "And you got out and things weren't the same. That night changed both of us. When I agreed to the rules, it was my way of saying that I cared about you deeply, that I wanted to be with you. I couldn't do the monogamy thing but I could promise to come home to you. The other guys don't mean a thing." Haven't meant a thing for a long time. Just a familiar way to escape, to relieve tension.

He returned to the sofa, sitting down in a corner, with Justin at the opposite corner. "I don't want you to look at me as an obligation. And we have more to talk about. Including the prom and the bashing. Do you know how much it bothered me to have you going around with Cody and the Pink Posse?"

Justin had a pretty good idea. He could still remember the night Brian had discovered the gun. And the aftermath of what had happened when he confronted Hobbes. He and Brian really hadn't talked about it, just brushed it aside like so much dusty words under carpet. Wasn't that a song?

"It's like that with the cancer. Justin, I have no fucking control over this. It's eating away at me. And it's not just my body it's taking. It feel like it's taking a part of my soul."

Still silent, Justin and Brian sat, each reflecting. Then Brian spoke, "Can you help me to bed? The pills are kicking in?" The pills on top of self-exposure, he reminded himself.

"Sure," he said, standing. He helped Brian to his feet, supporting some but not all of his weight.

Brian focused on negotiating the steps. He was relieved when he sank down on his side of the bed. "Don't work too late. And as much as I hate it, we have stuff we need to talk about." He made to undo the jeans, unable to hide the wince of pain. Make a joke out of it, Kinney. "Well, this is a first. I can't seem to get my pants off." Christ, how fucking humiliating is this? I haven't needed help undressing since I was Gus's age.

Justin sat down beside him. "Just lie back. I'm a master at undressing you." Hoped that would be enough to make Brian smile.

He made short work of the jeans, tossing them at the end of the bed. Brian closed his eyes and Justin knew he was exhausted. "You cold?"

"No, just sleepy."

Fresh tears sprang to Justin's eyes but he dashed them away. He pulled the sheet up over Brian and hoped he'd sleep through the night. But knowing Brian as he did, he doubted that. Thought at some point during the middle of the night, he'd find his lover in the living room.

Justin returned to the living room, turning on the computer and pulled up a medical search engine, focusing on testicular cancer. He'd done a bit before but now he was faced with the cold and stark reality that Brian was sick.

As he read, it dawned on him that Daphne was right. Brian had absolutely no control over this. Lost in research, he was startled to realize just how late it really had gotten. He shut down the computer, turned off the lights, and reset the alarm.

He brushed his teeth and quietly slid into bed next to Brian, careful not to disturb him. He turned to face Brian and was surprised when Brian's hazel eyes opened a bit. "Hey."

"Hey."

"You set the alarm?"

"Yeah."

"Night."

Justin's arms eased around Brian and for once the older man allowed himself to be held. Justin listened to Brian's breathing and felt unaccountably relieved that Brian hadn't said, I love you. Felt that he would only have been saying it because he feared death. Justin felt him drop off into a deeper sleep and then sleep enveloped him.

It was a little after two a.m. when Brian awoke to searing pain. He tried hard not to awaken Justin, but he saw his lover's eyes slowly slide open. "You ok?" Justin asked, voice roughened with sleep.

"No," he shook his head. "Need a pain pill," he responded weakly.

A little more alert, Justin asked, "Where are they?"

"I can get them." He tried to move to a sitting position but groaned with pain. Deciding it wasn't worth an argument or more pain to salvage his pride, he simply said, "Second shelf. They're marked with a label that says 'may cause drowsiness'."

Fuck, he thought. This is what I didn't want anyone to see. Especially Justin. Me unable to stand, knees buckling with pain. And this is just the radiation. What happens if I need chemo? Then he remembered the promises he and Justin had made to each other. He had meant them then. Still meant them. But he couldn't help but wonder if Justin was strong enough to deal with this, deal with him even if he beat this thing. Hell, if Lance Armstrong could deal with this and ride in the Tour de France so can I, he thought.

"Brian, do you want me to bring the other bottles too?" Justin's voice came from the bathroom.

He'd never felt so weak. "Yes. Justin---"

Coming to sit next to him on the bed, Brian took the bottle that Justin handed to him. As much as it pained him, he needed Justin cause he couldn't do this on his own. "I need you to send Cynthia and Theodore emails letting them know I won't be working tomorrow."

"Who knows?"

Brian searched for the bottle of water, swallowed the pills before answering. "You, Ted, Michael, Cynthia. I assume Mikey's told Ben. I suppose Daphne knows. Your mom?" Said the last as a question. "Just when I finally think your mom and I can actually be friends I get sick." He saw the irony in that.

"Daphne knows. She loves you too, you know. I haven't told Mom. I didn't think you'd want her to know."

Brian looked a question at him. Justin smiled. "I thought you'd want to tell her. Or we could tell her together. Your call."

"I invited Linz, Melanie and Sonny Boy over on Saturday. What time do you have to work at the diner?"

"3-11."

"Good. Now let's go to sleep. I hope I sleep till ten, at least. I'm fucking exhausted."

Justin was surprised Brian hadn't told Lindsay. After all, they did share a child. But he also knew when to let things go. Brian probably had a good and valid reason for not telling her. So Justin eased into sleep, Brian curled up into him, one arm flung around his waist, anchoring them together. It had taken a long time for Brian to feel safe enough to do that without feeling vulnerable.

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