The morning after drinking so much AJ found himself waking up in the backyard, covered in morning dew, with a pisser of a hangover. He also found that, with sobriety, the pain came back tenfold. It didn’t take him long to find his way back to the other bottle he had bought and to pop it open. Within an hour he was happily buzzing again.
For the next two days he kept a steady drunk on. Who cared, right? There was no one there to yell at him. No one to take the booze away and shout that he was doing wrong. No one was there to hold him at night and keep him warm. No one to help fight off the craving. There was nothing in his life worth living for. So what did it matter if he fell off the fucking wagon and drank his pain away? Who gave a shit? It wasn’t like he was out doing coke again. It was just a few bottles.
Somehow, he couldn’t quite remember how it happened, AJ found himself upstairs in his house, wandering down the hallway. The ever present bottle of Jack was in his hand, sloshing happily with him. Who needed Brian, right? Fuck. Not him. He didn’t need anyone. Fuck them all. They didn’t give a shit about him. Sure, they said they did, but then look at what they do. They fucking walk away. None of his other friends had even called him!
Brian was probably staying with one of them. He’d probably told them all what a horrible person AJ was, and how bad their relationship was. Yeah. That was it. Fucking A. That’s probably why no one called him. Well, fuck ‘em. Who needs people like that?
Looking at a picture on the wall of him and Brian laughing in the backyard, AJ reached a shaky hand up and knocked it down. There. That was better. He made his way back to the stairs to head down when he heard the doorbell chime. It startled him enough that he jumped, barely managing to catch himself.
Chuckles built in his throat as he looked at the staircase. Woo, that was a long way down! “Mm, better cap it.” He mumbled, screwing the lid on his Jack.
Just as he finished screwing it on, the doorbell rang again. With another jump, AJ went tumbling head over heels down the staircase. He landed on his back at the bottom, the hand holding the bottle clutched to his chest, his other arm flung out. For just a split second he stared at the ceiling while listening to someone pound on his locked door. Then he burst out laughing.
Jesus, fuck! He’d fallen down the fucking stairs! God, what kind of fool did that? “It’s cause your drunk!” he told himself happily. Reminded of that he brought the bottle up, happy to see it had survived the trip. He’d saved it. “Fucking all right.” With his teeth he took off the lid and spat it on the floor. Without bothering to sit up, or pay any attention to the banging at his door, he tipped the bottle and took a healthy swig.
With his head tilted to drink, his eyes were looking upside-down, facing toward the front door. So he had a perfect view as his door was finally kicked open. The next thing he knew Howie was rushing in toward him, dropping to his knees by AJ’s head. “Jesus, Age, are you ok?” he demanded, his hands running over AJ’s face, his chest, his legs.
“Yep. Just fell down the uh, the uh, what do ya call em?” AJ waved the bottle at the stairs, his eyebrows furrowed as he thought. They cleared out and he grinned. “Stairs! That’s the shit. I fell down the fucking stairs. You believe it, D?”
From experience Howie knew better than to try to take the bottle out of AJ’s hand. But that wasn’t his primary concern. He wanted to make sure that AJ was uninjured. “J, do you hurt anywhere? Anywhere at all?” he asked him seriously. If there was anything serious he should be able to feel it even through the cloud of alcohol.
Wiggling his eyebrows, AJ gave another cheesy grin. “Not a damn fucking thing hurts, oh Sweet D. That’s what the booze is for!”
There was no talking with AJ when he was like this. Satisfied that nothing was too seriously broken, Howie gently helped AJ to his feet, watching for signs that there was something worse than they had noticed. Once he had AJ on his feet, and his friend was still giving him a dopey grin, Howie let some of his temper lead him.
He led AJ down the hallway, perfectly at home in AJ’s house. “Where we goin’?” AJ asked cheerfully. Thank God that he was a cheerful drunk today. Sometimes it could go the other way, and he was one hell of a fucking prick. Being a cheerful drunk would make this easier to do.
“I got a surprise for you, Age. I’m taking you to see it.” Howie told him innocently.
AJ almost bounced in excitement, practically knocking himself back to the ground. Howie just steadied him and kept walking. He led AJ into the bathroom, praying that his friend wouldn’t realize what he was about to do. Generally, when drunk and happy, AJ was pretty easy to trick into doing what you wanted him to do. Privately Howie prayed that alcohol was the only thing AJ had done, or this wasn’t going to work.
“I hid your surprise in there, AJ.” Howie said, pointing in the large shower stall. A small indulgence of AJ’s that amused everyone. For such a small person, he loved having a shower that could easily fit five grown adults. “Here, let me hold the bottle and you go get it.”
Gleefully AJ handed the bottle over and hurried inside of the shower. While he wasn’t looking, Howie set the bottle down and kicked his shoes and socks off, then his shirt and coat. That left him in only jeans and boxers. With a deep breath for courage, he stepped inside and shut the shower door.
AJ was over in the corner, looking around for where his surprise was. He never heard Howie pull down the shower head, which was attached to the hose. But he suddenly heard the water turn on. Before he could even fully turn around he was getting hit with jet after jet of freezing cold water. “Fuck!”
Relentlessly Howie sprayed AJ with the water. He didn’t care how many people said that cold water doesn’t sober a drunk. He’d done it multiple times to AJ and it didn’t get him totally sober, but it got him on the way to being sober. So he didn’t even hesitate as AJ dropped to the ground, sputtering underneath the jets of the shower head, trying to shield his face from the water.
After about five minutes of listening to AJ shout and curse and holler, Howie turned the water off and put the showerhead back on its hook. Then he turned to glare at the top of AJ’s head. His best friend was curled up on the ground, his head bowed down, arms tucked against his chest. “You feeling a little clearer, Age?” he asked him politely.
“Jesus fucking Chris, Howie.” AJ spat out, rocking slightly in place. “I fucking fall down the stairs and you take me in a shower and spray me down with ice water? Fuck, man.”
Watching AJ lean against the shower wall to try to stand, Howie almost thought that he hadn’t run the water long enough, that AJ was still too drunk. Then he noticed the way that AJ kept one hand wrapped around his waist and the other cradled to his chest. “I didn’t see anything that was hurt.” He said cautiously, stepping toward him.
Clear from most of the fuzziness that alcohol brought on, AJ was feeling everything a whole lot more. Not just the heartache that he had been trying to bury at the bottom of a bottle. But the physical pain now, too. His head seemed to spin a little, and air hurt to draw in. He kept his left hand locked around his ribs as Howie helped him finish standing.
That was a feeling AJ recognized. He had probably bruised his ribs tumbling down that fucking staircase. That wasn’t what worried him. What worried him was the dizziness, and his right wrist. Even looking at it he knew that something was wrong. “I think I need a doc, D.” he managed to get out even as he swayed on his feet. “I think I broke my hand.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The ride to the hospital was quick and uneventful. Thankfully Howie didn’t feel the need to lecture him the entire way there, or talk his ear off. AJ knew what Howie would say to him, given the chance, and he agreed with every bit of it. But it didn’t change it. He couldn’t take back anything he’d done, or really find it in him to care. So what if he’d drank for a few days? That was his right. He wasn’t a God damn kid.
When they pulled into the parking lot, AJ swore that he saw Nick’s car and grumbled slightly to himself. Fucking A. Had Howie text him or something? Called him when he found out that their troublemaker had been drinking again? That was probably it. Kevin was probably in there somewhere, waiting for the first opportunity to jump his shit about this. Well, how peachy fucking keen.
To his surprise, no one met them inside but the nurses and the doctor. They took AJ down to x-ray, checked his ribs and his hand. The hand was easy, and put in a plaster and fiberglass cast. The ribs they left alone, telling him to take it easy and avoid heavy lifting for a while. But nothing else was really damaged.
The whole time he was with them, Howie stayed by his side. It wasn’t until the end when the doctors said that AJ wasn’t eating enough, or drinking enough water, that Howie left. He went to the cafeteria to get some food that he insisted AJ was going to eat before they went anywhere. Huh. Yeah right. AJ came out of his room and sat down in the waiting room chair carefully.
All he wanted was to go home and climb into bed. For the past few nights he’d slept in the guestroom, unable to bring himself to sleep in his and Brian’s bed. To look at the room around him and see so many memories. To listen over and over to the words that Brian had thrown at him.
Those words played over and over in AJ’s mind. Not just because of how much they hurt, but because they seemed so…odd. So not like Brian. What he had said was in total contrast to the way he had been for the past six months. None of it made any sense. AJ was afraid that it was just his heart, trying to find ways to not let go. But no matter what it was, that thought nagged at him.
Out of nowhere, AJ swore that he saw Nick. He braced himself, thinking ‘Here it comes’ as he watched the guy he was almost positive was Nick step out of an elevator. But instead of turning toward AJ, Nick turned the other way and headed down the hall. Like he knew where he was going.
AJ found himself rising slowly to his feet, following down in that direction. He couldn’t explain why he was following him, only that something inside of him demanded it.
A few hallways down that sick feeling in AJ’s stomach grew. He knew this route. Had walked these halls a million times. But, Nick couldn’t be going where AJ thought he was going. That just wasn’t possible. He, AJ, would know. Right?
But the closer they got the more it began to make sense in AJ’s mind. Brian’s sudden change of heart while AJ had been gone for a few days. The words he said and how they had warred with his actions through their relationship. If he was right, though…oh fucking Christ. He watched Nick step through those familiar doors to the cleaning area, where you prepped to see people in the cancer ward.
The implications of it hit him all at once. He knew, without a doubt, what was going on. Brian’s cancer was back. He had hid this from AJ. Probably out of some stupid wanting to save him pain kind of idea. He had lied to him. Lied to him, and left him, and hurt him, just to keep him away. The first urge AJ had was to turn around and walk away. Brian had rather hurt him than tell him the truth.
But, that was the love of his life in there. How could he walk away, not knowing what was going on?
Completely sober now, he stepped up to the nurses’ station. A few of them recognized him and greeted him with big smiles. “Mr. AJ!” One nurse by the name of Joyce called. She had grandkids close to his age, and was a sweet woman who was short and stocky, and had the brightest eyes of any of them. AJ flashed her a smile, tucking everything else away. “Well hey there, Joyce. How’s my boy doing in there today?”
A small part of him still held the hope that she would deny that Brian was there. Then he could be wrong about this. But she smiled at him and squashed that hope. “Oh, quiet as ever. We’ve been wondering when you’d show! Been here for almost a week and no sign of you. Busy times, I guess. You want to head on in? He should be done with the worst of it for now. Mr. Carter never comes to see him until after that parts done.”
In her tone AJ could hear her disapproval of Nick not coming until after Brian was done puking. That meant that they had doing chemo. Oh God. AJ’s mind spun under the weight of everything, but he offered Joyce a grin and agreed to come in. They got him through the cleansing process, one of the nurses having to give him a hand to get things on with his casted hand.
But shortly after his arrival he was dressed in hospital clothes and directed toward Brian’s room. To his surprise, AJ felt anger start to build, taking the place of everything else. The drunk feeling was completely gone by now. All he felt was hurt, and angry. Pretty soon all he felt was angry.
Anger carried him down the hall, and had him ignoring the pain in his ribs. It carried him right to Brian’s door. There he faltered a little, unsure about bursting in angrily, or even at all. But Nick’s chuckles drifted out to him, and he found himself growing angry all over again. They were laughing in there? He’d been hurting for six fucking days, and here was Nick in there laughing?
With his good hand AJ opened the door, letting it slam against the wall. His eyes swept the room until they found the bed that Brian was sitting on. Seeing his lover was like a fist to the gut. The pain of the last few days boiled up bright and strong in AJ, nearly overpowering him. Added on to that was the fear that, sweet God, the cancer had come back.
“Alex.” Brian said it softly, his voice laced with pain and shock. That did it for AJ. It broke his paralysis and had him striding into the room.
When Nick stepped forward, AJ held his good hand out, gesturing for him to stay back. His eyes never broke away from Brian’s. “Get out, Nick.” He said in a voice gone low. Nick looked from Brian to AJ and back again, debating what to do. A small nod from Brian had him following orders and gratefully rushing from the room.
Just as the door clicked shut, AJ stopped near Brian’s bed. He couldn’t seem to get a handle on everything he was feeling. Pain, anger, hurt, fear. All of it was rolling together, boiling into one big mess.
“Alex…” Brian said again, just as softly. Pain, shock, and love were in those words plain as day. They were in his eyes. Eyes that AJ had missed so much.
Anger had him balling his hands into fists, ignoring the ache that spread through his wrist as he did. “You have a hell of a lot of fucking explaining to do.” He swore, ignoring the way that Brian flinched from him. “I suggest you start talking, and right the fuck now, before I really get pissed off.”