lee_fallon | PSL - Bitty Learns Lee's Secret

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eric bittle,
psl

PSL - Bitty Learns Lee's Secret

Lee feels terrible. When he told Eric on New Years Eve they should get together for a lunch date soon he hadn't been planning on feeling sick enough to finally go to the hospital, and he definitely hadn't expected to end up on chemo again. So when Eric texts and asks if they can meet tomorrow, Lee can't say yes. He's miserable and exhausted and even if he thought he'd be able to eat, Eric would be able to tell immediately that something bad was going on.

He texts back and tells Eric he's sorry, he's sick and he can't make it. He adds a hopeful 'Maybe next week?' to the end, knowing there's not much of a chance he'll look any healthier by then. He knows he can't put Eric off forever, but he thought he was done telling people he cares about that he's dying. It's selfish, he knows, but he just isn't ready to do it again.

Bitty's reply is kind and caring, saying he's sorry and sending hopes for Lee to feel better soon. Lee thanks him, then sits down on his couch, his body heavy, letting himself doze.

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There's a voice in the back of my head telling me I should let it go, that I shouldn't be some kind of overbearing worrywart or, worse, just a nuisance. But I have hours before I need to be at work and, try as I might, I find I can't just sit and do nothing when I know Lee's ill.

He hadn't said exactly what sort of sick he is, if he has the flu or a really bad cold or something else altogether. But I know when I was little, my mama always made chicken noodle soup whenever I got sick. And so that's where I start.

I actually have all the ingredients in my kitchen already and I set to work, making hopefully more than enough to last him a few meals, at least. After packing up the soup in the biggest tupperware container I own, I grab my coat and keys and head out. I swing by the sore on the way to grab a liter of ginger ale, just in case, and I'm outside his door about an hour and a half after his last text message.

And then I start second-guessing myself.

But, I'm here now. Turning around without even trying would be silly. So I take a deep breath and knock lightly on his door. "Lee? Lee, it's Eric, are you in there?"

Lee's pulled out of his nap by a rapping sound, and it takes him a moment to realize where he is (tipped on his side on his couch) and what's causing the noise (someone knocking on his door). He licks dry lips and pushing himself up to sitting. There aren't that many people who know where he lives, and he's definitely not expecting anyone.

But then he hears a voice, and heaviness rolls through him. Of course Eric has come to check on him. That's exactly the kind of guy he is: sweet, caring, considerate, and helpful. There's no way Lee can send him away. He doesn't have the heart to do it.

"I'm here," Lee calls, his voice coming out broken from sleep. He clears his throat. "Just a second, Eric. I'm coming."

He pushes himself up off the couch and has to stand still and close his eyes for a moment, waiting for a wave of dizziness to pass. Taking a breath, he feels clearer immediately, and he walks to the door, just a little slower than usual. Licking his lips again, he takes another deep breath and opens the door.

"Hey Eric," he says, smiling.

I'm not surprised when it takes awhile for Lee to respond and, even through the door, I can tell he's groggy. Goodness, I probably woke him up. This was a terrible idea; he definitely needs rest!

I can make my visit short, at least. Just long enough to drop off the soup and ginger ale and maybe tuck him back into bed.

Only when he opens the door, his smile as kind and warm as ever, it's immediately apparent this is no ordinary flu or cold. Lee's face is... well, gaunt is the only way I can think to describe it. His eyes are sunken, skin pale. He looks... god, he looks just terrible.

"Lee."

I don't realize how stunned I sound until the word is already past my lips and I feel heat rise to my cheeks. "Sorry, I'm. I just. I brought you some soup and ginger ale," I tell him, holding up the container and the plastic bag from the store somewhat stupidly. "I thought. Well, back home, my mom would often make me chicken noodle soup when I was sick, and ginger ale helps calm the stomach. It's. I mean, you don't eat any if you don't want to. I'll understand, I promise. But I thought it might help."

Lee's seen that look before, the stunned shock, the quiet horror. It was that exact expression that caused Lee to make the decision that he was never going to tell his mother he was sick, never going to let his family see him like this. It was hard enough when his boyfriend left him, when his friends offered their help and sympathy only to distance themselves more and more over time.

He doesn't think Eric will do that, but even if he does, Lee's not going to be around more than a few months, so he won't be lonely for long.

"Come in, Eric," he says softly, still smiling as much as he can manage. He stands back and lets Eric in the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. "Thank you for the soup. And the ginger ale," he adds as he walks to the kitchen, assuming Eric will follow him. He gets two bowls and two glasses from the cabinet, then two spoons, carrying the dishes and utensils over and setting them on the table, then pulls out a chair and sits.

"Sit with me?" he asks, looking up to where Eric is still standing, staring at him with a look that's mostly worried and slightly terrified.

Lee's never exactly looked vibrant as far as I can remember. He's always seemed rather thin and I remember that at the New Years Eve party, he seemed tired. But the way he looks now is just... it's scary, honestly. I'm starting to get the feeling this is no ordinary cold or flu.

He still doesn't look mad that I'm here, just opens the door wide enough for me to step inside, locking it behind me. He grabs two bowls and two spoons, two glasses to go with them, and I almost want to argue, make sure he knows the soup and drink are for him, useless as they might be. I hadn't intended to stay.

But the invite to stay for awhile is clear and, still feeling a knot of guilt low in my gut, I take a seat at the table he's arranged. The soup smells good, but it probably needs heated up. Soon. I'll do it soon.

Swallowing, I keep my hands folded in my lap as I look at him across the table, lips twisting before I finally manage to open my mouth. "You don't have the flu, do you?"

Lee smiles kindly at Eric and then softly shakes his head. "No," he replies, then he sighs deeply, dropping his eyes to the tabletop for a moment, gathering his strength.

He takes another breath, and raises his eyes. "I have cancer," Lee admits carefully. "I was diagnosed twelve years ago, so it's not new to me. I was in Minneapolis before I came here getting treatment." He pauses, feeling shaky. He hates this, has always hated it, having to tell people who care about him that he's dying.

"It's terminal, Eric," he says softly. "It was before I came here. The treatment I was having was only to give me a bit more time, to keep me as healthy as possible during the time I had left. I've seen a doctor here, and I'm getting treatment again, but she agreed with my doctors back home. I've got six months left at the very most."

He shakes his head again. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this," he says. "A few years ago I decided I wasn't going to tell people, because it was so hard to see the way it made them look at me. I've tried to keep myself at a distance, to not get too close to people, because I don't want them to have to see it happen."

It's strange, I think. Somehow, I'm not surprised when he says the word, all the little tidbits of things he's said or explained away in the short time I've known him suddenly make a lot of sense. But even with that, I can feel all the blood drain from my face, a weight dropping heavy in my stomach.

I've never known anyone with cancer before. Not directly. I've heard of people being effected, of course, especially people at church and around town back in Madison. I know it happens.

But I've never met anyone with it. I've never had a friend dying from it.

And I have no idea what to say. Especially when says he hadn't really wanted to tell me at all. I can understand his reasoning, is the thing. I get it. But surely he must know that he can't control people caring about him. That's now how this works at all.

"I'm... I'm glad you told me," I manage eventually. "That's. I mean. I don't really know what to say, I. If you want me to leave you alone, I mean, I... I guess I can do that. If it's really what you want. But I'd rather stay your friend for as long as I can. Six months is... it can feel like longer than it is. I feel like I've been here in Darrow since forever, but it's only been five months and so much has happened in that time.

"No, I don't want that," Lee replies, and he sighs softly as he watches Eric struggle with this, with wanting to help (as is his nature), but also wanting to give Lee his space. He smiles softly, a little sad.

"I didn't really expect to make friends here," he admits. "I mean, casual acquaintances, but nothing lasting. Most of my friends back home are ones I've known a long time, or people I've met in treatment. But this is a different sort of place, I guess."

Lee folds his hands on the tabletop, looking at the angles of his fingers, bones a little more prominent than they'd been a few weeks ago. "I'm glad to have you as a friend, Eric," he says, meeting Eric's eyes again. "You're such a good guy, so giving, so selfless. I feel pretty attached to you," he adds with a quiet laugh. "I just hate that you'll have to see this happen to me."

I feel some small bit of relief when Lee speaks again, when he says he doesn't want me to stay away. To be honest, even if Lee did want that, I'm not sure I could do it. And that's strange, maybe, given that we've only known each other for a little over a month but, like he says, Darrow is a different sort of place. It's a big city, bigger than Samwell and certainly bigger than Madison, but given how closed off we are from absolutely anywhere else, I feel like I'm a lot closer to the people I've met here than I might've been.

And the idea of leaving someone who's dying just doesn't sit right with me at all. Especially someone like Lee who's been so nice from the very beginning.

I swallow hard when he continues, feeling my throat start to close up and my eyes prickle. Forcing myself to take a breath, I quickly shake my head. "No, it's. I mean, I'll hate having to see this happen to you too, but. But I'm glad I've gotten to know you at all. It just... it doesn't seem fair, I guess. Why should you have to spend the last few months of your life here of all places?"

Lee smiles again, shrugging softly. "If it wasn't here it would have been Minneapolis, or the next city," he says. "When I found out I was stage four and the only question was when and not if, I started to eliminate my connections. To things, to places, to people." He takes deep breath. "Home isn't really home anymore. I miss my bar and there are a couple people I'd see if I were there, but I don't feel like anything's been taken from me by being here."

Lee feels uncomfortable in a way he usually doesn't, unsure what to do with his hands or where to look. He feels tired and a little shaky and most of that is the chemo, but some of it is guilt. He's spent years getting over that, feeling bad for upsetting other people with his cancer, but Eric reminds him of his little brother and Lee cares about him, feels protective. He hates that he has to introduce this sort of sorrow into Eric's life.

"Life is far from fair," he says after a moment of silence. "But we can't do much about the hand we're dealt. I'm dying, that's a fact. But I don't have to let it completely ruin the time I have left."

Again, it all makes sense. Lee had been so calm the day he arrived here, perfectly content to find himself in a new city, away from all his family and friends. He was confused, of course, but otherwise, it hardly seemed to be bother him. I'd found it curious at the time, but I mostly figured Lee was just sort of... on another plane from the rest of us. That panicking just wasn't in his nature.

Now I know the real reason. It makes sense, but it still hurts. I'm not sure if that hurt is more for him or for me right now though, and goodness is that selfish.

But I manage to nod. I mean, he deserves some sort of reaction other than me sitting here stupidly. So I nod and force myself to breathe and when he speaks again, I manage to meet his eyes. "Is there anything you want to do?" I ask him, my voice wavering only a little. "I mean, I know we can't really go anywhere, but is there anything we could do that you've never done before? Sky-dive or attend some sort of sporting event? Wear something really silly? I have a friends who's a wizard - he might be able to whip up something really interesting. Like a dragon to play with or something, I don't know."

Lee laughs at Eric's sweet suggestion, and he feels immediately bad for it, sobering himself. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you," he quickly assures. "It's just that I tried doing some of those kinds of things, about a year ago," he explains.

"I went to Colorado and learned to kayak, did some hiking and climbing," he tells Eric. "I had an accident, fell while I was doing a fourteener and broke my collarbone. I had to have surgery there, and it took a long time to heal. I went to Ireland a few months later and got pickpocketed, had to go to the American Embassy to get my passport reissued. That was basically the beginning and the end of my bucket list," he says with a smile, shaking his head.

"I do like the idea," he admits a moment later. "Especially with the idea of employing a wizard," he adds with another laugh. "I just don't know what I'd even want to do. I moved past that, let it go."

Lee sighs. There is something he wants, but he already has as much of it as he can. "It's actually difficult to still be alive sometimes," he says, meeting Eric's eyes. "To see other people have what you can't anymore, to have feelings even as much as you know they'll never go anywhere. Seeing people happy makes me happy, it really does. But it's really hard not to get jealous sometimes."

I can feel my eyes widen as he talks about his adventures, glancing at his neck for a second like I can actually see where he'd broken his collarbone. But of course, I can't. His experiences sound pretty fraught with troubles though and my chest aches again. He doesn't sound all that upset about things, but it still doesn't strike me as fair. I guess Darrow isn't the only place where life is cruel.

It only gets worse when he keeps talking, but I make sure to stay quiet, letting him get it all out. I don't know how many people here he's told, if any. I don't know if this is something he considers a secret but, even if it's not, he deserves my attention.

By the time he's done, though, I'm finding it hard to swallow again. I blink furiously before nodding at him again. "I think that's understandable. I think... I think if I were you, I'd be angry. I mean. You're not very old at all. And you're so nice, to everyone. It's not the least bit fair."

Lee feels bad when he hears the quaver in Eric's voice, sees the beginnings of tears gathering in his eyes. Eric's a sensitive guy who cares a lot for the people around him, Lee knows that. The fact that he's here with soup and ginger ale is more than a testament to that. Lee hates that it makes it easy for Eric to feel so much sorrow or worry when one of his friends is in pain, even though he completely understands it.

"I was angry," Lee says after a beat. "I was angry with myself when I was first diagnosed. It's melanoma, skin cancer, and it started because I'd spent so many summers in the sun without bothering with sunscreen." He pauses, taking a breath. "I had a boyfriend at the time, a serious one, and he completely bailed, didn't want to deal with it. This was stage one."

The story still makes him bitter, as much as he's tried to forget and forgive. It was the most broken hearted Lee had ever been in his life, abandoned by someone was supposed to love him no matter what.

"Then I fought. I did every treatment my doctor recommended, I changed my diet, I became a Buddhist so I could learn to be more positive and focused. Sometimes I'd make progress, but eventually the treatment would stop working, I'd get worse again," Lee relates the story. "When I found out I was stage three, I got angry again. At the universe, at whatever was keeping me from getting better despite doing everything I could."

Lee stops, shaking his head gently, and he smiles softly. "It's normal to feel that way about things like this, but it's exhausting. It wasn't easy, but I got through it. I don't get angry anymore. But I do get sad, sometimes. When I meet people, like you, and I know I won't get to see what you do with your life."

He pauses again with a shrug. "It's unavoidable. Even if you separate yourself from almost everyone, you can't stop yourself from caring about people, you can't stop yourself from feeling too much."

For some reason, I hadn't thought to ask what sort of cancer it is and I'm not sure knowing makes a difference. Except, strangely, I suppose I imagined skin cancer might be more visible. And it isn't, obviously. Lee is gaunt and clearly ailing, but I've never noticed any sort of lesions or rashes at all, and I still don't. It's almost worse somehow, knowing that the thing that's slowly killing Lee is inside him, eating away little by little.

The ache in my chest just gets worse as Lee continues, just from imagining him pulling away from everyone he cares about, from people he's only just met, trying not to get attached. It's something I can't even really fathom, cutting myself off completely. I think that might kill me before the cancer ever did.

"I'm not sad I met you," I finally manage once I'm sure he's finished. I certainly don't want to interrupt. "For what that's worth. Even knowing what I do now, I want... I want to get to know you even better. And I want to do anything at all that you want to do while-- while you still can. Actually, I'm going to promise you right now that I'll make you your favorite pie every single week until you get sick of it. And then I'll make you a new pie. Or cookies! I'll make whatever you want. Or-- oh! Oh, Lee."

For a second, I can barely breathe as a rush of hope zings all through me. "Lee, have you-- I mean, there are wizards here! Magical people. You might have options outside of modern medicine!"

Lee smiles fondly at Eric and his sudden epiphany, how excited he is at the idea that he may have found a way to circumvent Lee's impending demise. Eric's heart is in such a sweet place, wanting to help his friend, and Lee appreciates it more than he can say. Of course he's a lot less hopeful about these sorts of things, despite knowing as well as Eric does that there are magical people here in Darrow. Disease is one of those things that people are always trying to defeat, but that usually eludes all attempts at eradication.

"I have a feeler out on that, actually," Lee tells Eric truthfully. "Back in mid December I met a wizard named Molly Carpenter. She's supposed to let me know if she can find anything that might help me. So far I haven't heard from her, but I trust that she's looking into things."

He pauses, taking a deep breath. He can tell Eric just wants to help, and it won't hurt anything to let Eric ask his friend if they have any ideas themselves. "If you wanted to talk to your friend, though, that would be great," he says kindly. "Widening the search can't hurt, right?"

Part of me is almost expecting Lee to tell me I'm being stupid, that thinking about other options is only a waste of time, that he's ready to just... go. Everything he's said already seems to support that; he doesn't even sound all that angry or upset by the prospect anymore.

So when he mentions a wizard friend of his own, that hope under my chest just glows brighter. He's not giving up at, least. And that means I won't either.

"No, it certainly can't," I agree, barely refraining from grabbing my phone right away to text Simon. "My, uh. My ex, for lack of a better word, is a wizard, too. He's apparently really really powerful, but he can't control it too well. I can at least talk to him and see if he might have any ideas. And Harry Potter's here -- do you know Harry Potter? -- he might have some suggestions too, though I'm not sure any of the spells he knows would work on cancer. It's still worth asking."

Eric tells Lee about his ex-boyfriend being a wizard (and Lee finds he's very interested in that story, making a note to ask Eric about it later), and then he mentions Harry Potter and Lee can't help the way his eyes go wide at that. Considering they're discussing actual wizards (and Lee's seen more than a few examples of real magic being performed in this city) Lee doesn't stay shocked for long, but he still can't believe some of the things he knows really happen here. He'd told Molly it felt like a gift, being brought here, and he absolutely still feels that way.

"It would be great if you could ask your friend," Lee replies, smiling at Eric and his utter and selfless willingness to help. "And Harry Potter," he adds with a delighted little laugh. "Are you friends with him too?" he asks, completely unsurprised at the idea that Eric has so many friends, considering what a wonderful, kind person he is.

"Well, I'm not sure friend is the right word," I reply with a small grimace. "He came into Semele's once and I accidentally told him that he's fictional where I come from. Which... didn't really go over well, as I'm sure you can imagine. I don't think he was really angry with me," I rush to add, "but I still feel pretty awkward about the whole thing. And guilty. I mean, that's not something you just spring on a person, you know?"

I can't imagine that, at this point, Harry Potter is the first fictional person Lee's run into here. Then again, maybe it is. I've found it's impossible to tell exactly how many shared dimensions are actually represented in Darrow, or if we're all from completely separate ones. To be honest, thinking about it too long at all just does my head in.

"Still, I've seen him around here and there so I'll definitely ask. Dorian, too. He's another really powerful wizard. And I know there are more. At least one of them must know something. And in the meantime, you're getting all the pie your little heart desires."

My gaze drops to our bowls and the container of soup, still unopened. "Uhm. I suppose that's really not going to help at all. It's just what my mama always used to make me when I was little. I promise it at least tastes good?"

The idea that there are real and fictional people in this city is a concept that Lee finds he has a difficult time processing. It's not that he doesn't believe Eric, because he does; he's met wizards and other supernatural people here, so Harry Potter shouldn't be that shocking. But then he really starts to think about it, and he wonders if he's as real as he thinks he is, or if he's fictional too, if his body belongs to an actor with a different name and different life.

The fact that he's dying of cancer is the only thing that makes him question that notion. Because his illness isn't fake, his tumors really exist, he's getting chemotherapy and feels terrible. Who would write a character like that?

"Thank you, Eric," Lee says, giving Eric a small smile. "For asking all those people for me. I know that maybe nothing will come of it, but it would be stupid not to try, right?" he finishes, smile widening a bit.

"Also, I would love some of your soup," he adds, clearing his throat. "I have a hard time making myself want to eat, so having someone make me food helps a lot."

"Oh goodness, I can't make you as much food as you want," I reply, jumping to my feet to scoop up the container of soup and carrying it further into the kitchen. "You don't mind if I use your microwave real quick, do you?" I ask him before slipping it into the machine and setting the time.

While it cooks, I quickly grab both the bowl in front of Lee and the one he'd set out for me, carrying them back to the counter.

"I promise I can make more than just pies. Though I can't really promise that everything will be amazing -- I do like to experiment sometimes. If you want, you can give me a list of the sorts of things you like. And if you have any allergies or major dislikes, of course. I'd be happy to bring you stuff a couple times a week. I'll be sure to make stuff you can easily reheat, too. Like casseroles and chilis, that sorta thing. Unless you don't like those, of course."

Lee smiles as he watches Eric take the soup to the microwave, back to his normal excited, babbling self. He thinks that if he could be cured by positive energy, he'd be well on his way, just having Eric here, looking to find a way to help him, happy to take up the responsibility to keep him fed.

Eric's joy and happiness is infectious, and even though Lee still feels sick, his mood has improved by leaps and bounds. "Well, most of the time I'm a vegetarian," Lee tells Eric with a soft smile, hoping he doesn't feel too bad about the chicken in his soup. "It's more of a Buddhist thing, and a bit of a health thing, but I do like chicken, so don't worry, okay? I'm excited about this soup."

As soon as Eric sets the bowl down in front of Lee, he takes up the spoon and gets a spoonful, bringing it to his mouth so he can blow on it, cooling it down before he tries it. It's been a couple months since he last had poultry, and the flavor of the soup is amazing and soothing, and Lee hums in approval. "This is really good," he tells Eric sincerely. "You're a really good cook, Eric. You really shouldn't doubt yourself so much."

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry!" I tell him, feeling my face flush with guilt. But it lessens as Lee continues, when it becomes clear he's being sincere and not just insisting he likes chicken to make me feel better. He even takes a sip of the soup and I let out a slow breath to give him a smile.

"I'm passable," I argue, because it's true. "I think I could work harder to be really good, but I'm so much more interested in pies and cookies and things like that. I'm not sure why, but I always have been."

Taking my seat again, I sip at my bowl, humming at the familiar flavor though there's something about it that my mom can capture that I never quite manage. If only she were here to ask. I point a finger at Lee, but my smile is still sincere. "I only doubt what I know isn't true. I promise I'll do my best on food though. And I can always ask Derek for help; his food is about ten times better than mine ever is."

Lee smiles at Eric, shaking his head. He's met a lot of people like Eric in his life, so beaten down by what people have told them over the years, parents or teaches who didn't give them the support they needed, bullies that convinced them that they were worthless and not good at anything. Lee's gay, and he was lanky and awkward as a kid, so he's had his taste of that too, he understands how it works its way into your mind and won't let go. It's taken him a lot of years to get to a point where he can say he's proud of himself, where he knows how talented and capable he is, and doesn't let his doubts get the best of him.

"You don't have to be Gordon Ramsay to be considered a good cook," Lee tells Eric, taking another bite of his soup. It really is very well flavored, pleasant and warm and comforting. "Life's too short to spend time talking people out of the compliments they give you. It's a lot easier to say thank you," he adds with a warm smile. "Trust me, I'm old enough to know how these things work."

Lee takes a bite and I carefully watch his face, watching for a grimace or a scowl or any indication at all that he doesn't like what he's tasting. But I don't see even a glimmer of that and I let out a breath I hadn't even realized I'd been holding as I dip my own spoon in for another taste.

I can feel my face flushing warm as he continues and I let out a nervous breath of a laugh and shrug. "Well, then... thank you. I feel pretty confident about my baking these days, but less so the cooking. There's just so much to know and I get distracted from learning all that much because I just want to bake another pie. Also, I'll take being Nigella Lawson over Gordon Ramsay any day."

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PSL - Bitty Learns Lee's Secret

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