Pulling into the hospital parking lot, Justin takes in a deep breath. He wouldn't let Craig ruin the rest of his afternoon. Asshole. He tries hard not to think about his brother in that house, but convinces himself that at least Kai's physical needs were being met, and that starting on Monday that ball would be rolling for intervention services. He wished so much that there was something else he could do, but what? He wants to talk to Brian about it, but decides to wait until later tonight.

Walking past the pebbled path, Justin smiles to himself, thinking it is strange that just days ago he and Brian weren't together, and now here they were as if nothing had changed. But a lot has changed, not just having Kai in their lives and dealing with Brian's cancer: but they have both matured a lot since the break up. Maybe things do happen for a reason?

Shaking his head, he wishes that the "things that happen for a reason" could be a bit lighter.

The doors slide open and Justin immediately spots Brian reclining on one of the chairs, his head resting on one hand as his eyes are closed. He doesn't look the least bit peaceful.

"Hey," Justin whispers, gently nudging Brian's foot with his.

"What the fuck took you so long?" Brian asks with annoyance.

"Craig was sucking face with some bimbo: we had words." Justin replies with a shrug, "Ready to go?"

Ignoring his partner's extended hand, Brian pulls himself up and slowly walks towards the doors. He felt sluggish and sore. Hating that feeling, the last thing he wanted was for Justin to touch him.

Reading his cue, Justin keeps a safe distance as he joins him back to the car, asking, "Do you want the radio on?"

"No." Brian responds evenly, sitting down and closing the door. "Just drive."

Nodding, Justin returns to the driver's seat and begins the drive back home. "Let me know if you need me to stop, okay?" He says softly, not wanting Brian to get carsick.

Brian doesn't answer. He doesn't want too. The thought of vomiting in front of his Sunshine wasn't on the top of his list.

"Kai was asleep when I brought him home," Justin begins, waiting to see if Brian wanted to hear more. Turning to his lover, he isn't sure if Brian is asleep. "Bri?"

"What?" Brian asks, his eyes still closed as he can feel every single bump on the street and wishes that the road was smoother. 

Justin doesn't answer at first. He isn't sure what to say or talk about. He wants to talk about what happened at Craig's, but it's clear that Brian has his own issues right now, mainly keeping his food down.

The rest of the ride is quiet, and Justin is quite sure that Brian is asleep once he returns the car to the garage. "Brian?" He whispers, deciding that he would rather sit in the car and wait for Brian to wake up than have to help drag him to the elevator.

"Are we home?" Brian asks, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Yes."

"About fuckin' time." Opening the door, Brian pulls himself out, steadying himself before taking a few steps forward. Justin quickly gets out of the car and follows him, keeping himself within arm's reach in case Brian needs any physical support.

Reaching the elevator, Justin tries not to notice his partner's pale and clammy skin, and instead hits the 4th floor and watches the numbers move past his eyes.

It doesn't take long until they're back in the loft and Brian careens onto the bed with a grunt.

Quietly, Justin walks past him and into the bathroom to retrieve a small wet washcloth. "Brian?" He calls out, sitting on the bed. He puts the cold cloth on the back of Brian's neck.

"Shit," Brian groans at the chill, but he's too nauseous to pull away. When Justin starts running his fingers through Brian's hair however, the brunette jerks away, moaning from the force of his movement. "Don't touch me," he mutters.

Hurt for a brief moment, Justin pushes the feelings down, knowing that radiation treatments can have emotional side effects as well as physical. "Okay, Brian," Justin answers: his voice calm. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. Get some rest."

Brian doesn't answer, grateful for the lack of bitching.

Going to the kitchen, Justin wills himself to focus on getting himself a drink of water and not on the man in the bedroom. This is what a relationship means. It's not all dancing and fucking. It's real life. And sometimes it's shit, and sometimes it's great... and that's life. We deal or we break. And Justin wasn't planning on breaking.

Sitting on the sofa, bottle of water in hand, Justin pulls out his sketch book and begins to draw quietly, the scratching of his pencil against the paper the only sound echoing through the loft.

After filling a page, Justin is interrupted by a thud from the bedroom. "Brian?" Justin calls out, putting down his pad and moving quickly to the other room. The bed is empty. "Brian?" He calls again, walking around the bed and finding Brian on the floor. "Fuck, Bri, are you okay?"

Brian struggles to sit up, but the room is spinning feriociously for him. "Dizzy," he moans.

Sitting on the floor beside him, Justin suggests, "Then stop moving."

"Bathroom..." Brian struggles to say, knowing that he's going to be sick. He tries to pull himself up, but his arms give out and he falls down again.

Pulling him up from under his arms, Justin struggles to help Brian stand and the two men stagger a few steps before Brian begins to vomit.

Gasping, Justin let's Brian go in surprise and stumbles back for a moment, "I'll get a towel!" He calls, running to the bathroom. He runs the water and quickly wets a towel. He can hear Brian vomiting and Justin tries to hurry, feeling like a complete failure but trying not to think about it.

Tossing towels on the soiled floor, Justin kneels beside Brian, who is lying on the wood, his body shaking as he starts dry heaving and coughing.

"It's okay, Brian, it's okay..." Justin soothes, doing his best not to let the stench of vomit fill his nostrils. In his mind however, the blond is paniking. He has no idea if this is a typical reaction, if he is doing what he should be doing, if he did something wrong... if there was something he should have done or be doing instead. Doubt swirls within him, but he forces himself to stay calm for his partner's sake, as he repeats, "It's okay. You're okay. Everything is okay..."

Brian tries to shake his head: to tell Justin that it is not okay: that he feels like shit and wants to crawl into a hole and never come back. But instead he keeps coughing and his stomach continues to spasm. Feeling Justin's cold hands from the wet towels on his hot skin, Brian flinches for a moment, but lets his lover help him to the bathroom and into the shower stall.

Eyes closed, Brian pretends not to know that his clothing is covered in vomit and that the blond kneeling in front of him is stripping him in the stall and turning the warm sprays onto his tired body.

Justin sighs, kissing Brian's forehead, "Give me two seconds." Hurrying back to the bedroom, Justin wipes up the floor with the dozen towels that he pulled out of the bathroom and linen closet. Tossing them all into a garbage bag, he decides that that's easier than attempting to wash them. He'd ask Daphne to buy some new ones for them this weekend.

Running to the kitchen, he sprays the floor with every cleaning item he can find that is safe for wood, before spraying air freshner in the room. The last thing he wanted was for Brian to return to the bedroom with any memento of the incident. He tells himself that he needs to make sure the loft will always be stocked with towels and cleaning items.

Finally looking down at himself, Justin decides to throw out his own clothing as well. Brian hated that Old Navy shirt anyways. With a sigh, he tosses the soiled shirt and jeans and closes the garbage bag tightly.

Naked, and feeling his adreneline dissipating, Justin returns to the bathroom and sits down under the warm sprays of water beside his lover. "Feeling better?"

"If 'better' means my stomach feels like it's inside out and my throat feels like sandpaper: then yes, I feel better." Brian replies blearily.

Nodding, Justin comments, "Great." And if better for Justin meant not wanting to crawl into the fetal position and cry, then he was starting to feel better too.

"Ready to run away?" Brian asks, half-teasing, however inside feeling the dreaded panic.

"Nope," Justin replies matter-of-factly. "You?"

"You wish."

"You're such a cunt," Justin retorts with a chuckle. "You can't get rid of me."

"So I've noticed."

Turning to Brian, Justin smiles softly and waits for Brian to meet his eyes before saying, "I'm glad you noticed."

Returning the smile, though dimmed, Brian nods, "Always."

Leaning forward, Justin lightly kisses Brian's lips, "I love you too."

The two men stay under the spray until it starts to get cold, and finally Justin pulls himself up and turns off the water. "Come on," he helps Brian to his feet, "let's get to bed."

Brian wants to say something sarcastic, but is too tired, so he lets Justin help him up and dry him off with the last towel in the bathroom. "Didn't I have more towels in here?" He asks, confused.

Justin steers him back to the bedroom, "Towels are so over-rated, don't you think so?"

"Not towels that cost $300."

"Well that should teach you to spend $300 on towels." Justin points out before helping his lover get into the bed.

"Are you lying down too?" He asks, trying to sound casual.

"Of course I am," Justin replies, hiding the fact that he is thrilled by the question. Climbing under the covers, Justin slides his body close against Brian's, murmuring, "I love waking up and falling asleep like this."

"You love waking up and falling asleep with my dick in your ass," Brian corrects.

Justin chuckles, "That too. But I love this too." Wrapping his arms around him, Justin gently hugs his lover, whispers, "I love you."

"When did you turn into such a lesbian?"

"Shut the fuck up," Justin laughs, kissing Brian's shoulder. Sighing, he looks up at the lights above the bed, letting his finger tips graze against Brian's stomach, lightly stroking the skin.

Brian closes his eyes, feeling relaxed as Justin's fingers soothe his sore stomach. Again, he feels the words at the tip of his tongue. Words to stop the wonderful feelings... but it was pointless. He was happy that Justin was with him, and the blond was right... he was sticking to him like glue: and that was perfectly fine by Brian.