lee_fallon | 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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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."

PSL - Bitty Learns Lee's Secret

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