lee_fallon | PSL - Lee Shares a Hopeful Secret

A new supply of drugs from Kavinsky in hand, Lee heads back home, his head full of instructions and thoughts, and, at the forefront, a promise he made to Kavinsky that he would be sure to have someone around to watch over him when he started taking the important ones, the ones that should, if things go to plan, get rid of Lee's cancer. He's not entirely sure yet what that will mean, if it will remove the threat entirely or just the tumors. Either way, he'll be happy. No tumors means no liver failure, it means his lungs won't start to fail and fill up with fluid. Even if he just goes into remission, it will mean an entirely new lease on life, which is more than Lee could ever hope for.

He's going to tell Eric tonight. As soon as Eric gets off work, Lee's going to sit him down and tell him everything.

The combination painkillers/anti-nausea meds Kavinsky gave Lee last week have been helping, and the tonic and magic Molly had offered doing even more for making Lee feel better. Still, the chemo's taking a lot of out of him, and though he isn't vomiting much anymore, he still gets tired pretty quickly. The walk over to his old apartment and back wipes him out, so once he's got his medication arranged in the cabinet in the bathroom, Lee lays down for a nap.

When he wakes up he has a sweet message on his phone from Eric, and he's even more excited now that it's later in the afternoon almost time for Eric to get off at the salon and come home to him. He feels like celebrating, the last day of this round of chemo, his PICC line out, the acquisition of magic made drugs that might do even more, so he puts a nice bottle of champagne in the refrigerator to chill, ordering Chinese food to be delivered about the time Eric should be arriving him. He's full of pleasant anticipation for the second time today, and he tries to sit still, but it's so hard. He finally has to put on music and close his eyes, meditate a little so he'll stop jumping at every noise that might be Eric's car pulling up out front or Eric's keys in the lock. Breathing slowly, he calms his mind as much as he can; the energy today feels positive, optimistic, and Lee absolutely can't wait to share it with the love of his life.

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Lee inhales and he can feel the way it presses his abdomen into Eric’s face, his fingers curling into Eric’s hair and holding him there, close.

“Mine too,” Lee admits, and his voice is definitely quavering a little. “I’m a little afraid to hope this is going to work,” he admits softly. “But I want it to so badly. I want to have a life, a life with you."

"Baby...it'll work. Whoever this guy is, if he won't give up, then...it'll work. If not right now then soon. And then we'll have forever," I say, tipping my head up to look at him and I reach to catch the back of his neck and hold on. "God, I love you. I love you so much."

“I love you too,” Lee replies, ducking in his chair so he can kiss Eric’s mouth, and he wishes he could pull Eric up in to his lap in this chair, but they really should eat dinner first anyway. “I have a good feeling about this,” he admits, his lips brushing Eric’s. “Kavinsky is determined. And I have other friends working on it too. Molly Carpenter, have you met her? You need to meet her.” Lee shakes his head. “I’m going to be here a long time, Eric. Something is going to work, and you’re going to be stuck with me,” he adds with a laugh.

"That's all I want. And you'll be stuck with me," I reply, smiling so wide it hurts my cheeks. For the first time since we met I find myself actually thinking of a future rather than just tomorrow.

"I need to meet these people. I need to meet everyone and fucking kiss them right on the mouth and tell them thank you."

Lee laughs when he imagines Kavinsky’s face, Ronan’s, Molly’s, when Eric kisses them. “If this works, we’ll both kiss them,” he says, still laughing, tears spilling down his cheeks. “God, when I met you, Eric, my life was over,” he says, shifting off the chair to kneel near Eric, holding him close. “Now I have everything,” he says, burning his face in the crook of Eric’s neck. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life, years and years. I want to grow old with you."

"Good. Yes. Years and years," I agree, wrapping my arms even tighter around him to hold on. This is so much more than I ever could have hoped for and when it works, not if but when, we're going to fucking celebrate like crazy.

"So that's why the champagne. God, I love you. We're going to be married forever," I say, stealing one more kiss.

Lee laughs, nodding and holding Eric close. “We might have to try a few times, but I think this is going to work,” Lee says, happy tears making his voice sound thick. “I feel really good about this,” he goes on, his hands on Eric’s hips. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now, but I wanted to wait until I knew I could give you good news. I didn’t want to get your hopes up before I felt sure it was going to work.”

He takes a breath, remembering Kavinsky’s words from earlier. “Also you need to know now, in case anything goes wrong,” Lee adds carefully.

I hadn't thought of that and just hearing him say it sucks the air out of me. In case something goes wrong. All the hope I felt, all the happiness, it fizzles away and I look at him with wide, worried eyes.

"Like what? What can go wrong?" I say, pressing hard on this point. "Like being sick or..."

Or something worse I don't even want to think of.

Lee shakes his head, seeing the worry in Eric's eyes and feeling awful for putting it there so abruptly.

"I don't know," he admits softly. "But the other medication he's given me has worked perfectly. Kavinsky's good at this, he and his friend did a lot of research, went over all my medical files before they made this," he goes on. "I don't think it will hurt me. If anything, it might just not work," he assures.

"I'll make sure you have Kavinsky's number, both of their numbers," Lee tells Eric. "So you can call them if you need to."

I mean, I should probably have confidence too since Lee seems to, and I want to, but I just can't help myself. In case. If I need to.

"Are you sure you want to take this risk, baby?" I ask softly, smoothing my fingers against his cheek.

Lee doesn't respond right away, his eyes moving over Eric's face. He's dying, right now, and though he'll still be here tomorrow, he isn't sure how much longer he'll be able to say that. The chemo is helping, but it's not going to work forever, he's learned that lesson by now. When it stops, when his tumors start to grow again, Eric's going to have to watch Lee deteriorate slowly until his being alive is just a technicality. It won't be a life for either of them, and Lee doesn't want to put Eric through that.

"I'm sure," he says with a nod, his eyes wet. "It's worth it. The chance of having a life with you is worth it."

I nod and my breath hitches a little, then I slip my arms around him to hold on tight. I press my head to his shoulder, facing out at first, then turning it in so I can breathe in the scent of him.

"Okay," I say. "Then I won't be worried. It'll work and we'll be happy and nothing bad's going to happen."

To my ears I even kind of sound like I might believe that.

"I'm not worried," Lee says, holding Eric against him, and he means it. Maybe it's because of his experience in the forest with Kavinsky and Ronan, what he was able to there, or the fact that the other medicines been working well. Kavinsky hadn't seemed particularly worried either, and they weren't close, but Lee felt like Kavinsky had some amount of investment in Lee's life now, that he was determined to help Lee survive.

"Come on, let's celebrate," he urges Eric, turning to kiss Eric's temple. "This is going to change our lives, I can feel it."

It takes me a long moment before I can let him go, nodding as I pull away. I look at him and I see the hope, the determination, and that coupled with the tone of his voice is like a balm that helps me find hope once again.

"Yeah," I say, working up a little smile that grows softly. "Yeah, let's celebrate. This is a god thing, right? Scary, I mean, but good."

I pause and back away so I can get my champagne and raise my glass.

"Here's to you being stuck with me for, like, eighty years or something."

"I think eighty years might be pushing it a little," Lee replies with a bright smile. "But I think I can probably manage sixty," he amends, reaching for his own glass and bringing it against Eric's before taking a sip.

Of course just because Lee's cancer is cured (assuming Kavinsky's pills work), it doesn't mean something else won't happen, that Eric won't get sick or one of them won't get hit by a bus. But Lee likes his odds a lot better knowing there's a strong possibility he'll see his birthday, and Christmas, New Years, their one year wedding anniversary. Whatever else happens will happen, but Lee is determined to be happy with the years he'll be getting back and not take a single one of them for granted.

"While we're making toasts, here's to being done with another round of chemo too," Lee says. "And to feeling better. Being a newly wed is way less fun when you're too sick for sex."

That makes me blush a little and I duck my chin. A soft smile curves my lips as I think of the first few days of marriage, screwing one another until we could barely walk. Chemo put a hold on that and now...just thinking about being able to be with him again makes me almost giddy.

"Yeah, that kinda sucked," I say, lifting my eyes to look at him. He's thinner, not by much, but I can see how hard treatment has been on him. From here on out it'll only get better, though. From now on things will be better than I ever could have hoped for...providing this shit from this Kavinsky guy proves to be effective.

"So here's to being done with chemo, too," I agree, then drink down my champagne.

Lee shares Eric's sweet little smile, and while he's not sure tonight will be the night, maybe tomorrow, or the next day, they'll finally get to do something in bed together besides sleep. Lee's always been very driven by physical exertion, and sex is one of his favorite ways to exert himself. Despite being in his early twenties, Eric hasn't seemed nearly as fixated on it as Lee has always been, which in this case has been a bit of a blessing. Lee's been missing the physical component of their relationship a lot, but his libido has been beaten down enough by how terrible he feels that he doesn't feel like he's ready to lose it. He thinks that if he were in Eric's place he'd be going crazy by now, after two weeks of nothing more than a little kissing and a little light fooling around.

Lifting his glass, Lee takes a drink of his champagne as well, then picks up his chopsticks. "I'm trying not to think of the things I want to do when I'm better, but it's hard not to," he admits. "I'm trying to keep it small for now," he goes on. "Just, what I want to do tomorrow, now that I'm off chemo for three weeks."

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" I ask as I start to eat, too. I've got this shit with vegetables and cashews and big hunks of mushroom and it's pretty good, but not nearly as good as the sweet and sour shrimp I go for first. I'm trying, I really am, but...meat, man. I really don't know how Lee does it.

Lee thinks about it, because his first instinct is to list all the sex he’d like to have, assuming he magically wakes up and feels something close to back to normal. But he knows Eric’s not asking about that, and Lee doesn’t really know what he wants aside from being close to Eric.

“Ice cream,” he says finally. “I want ice cream tomorrow. With chocolate syrup."

"You feel like going out? We could go to that marble slab place that stirs candy and shit into your ice cream," I say...after I swallow. I'm not a fucking savage.

Lee laughs, mostly because he loves the way Eric talks about everything. He's so young and relatively unburdened and it makes Lee smile.

"I'd love to get out of the house," he says. "Being cooped up in your house is a lot better than my apartment, but I miss the sunshine," he adds, scooping up some noodles with his chopsticks and taking a bite.

"Then that's what we'll do. We can get ice cream and go sit in the sun and just, I don't know, be," I say as I take another shrimp.

I love seeing him smile. I love seeing him not weak and sick and miserable. This is, hands down, the hardest two weeks of my life. Even the grief over my parents can't really compare to seeing the man I love so ill. I mean, well, it's just different. Grief isn't the same feeling as helplessness.