Casey stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He slowly ran the comb through his thinning hair over and over again. With each hair that fell, it reminded him how long his hair really was and how he's had it for more than a decade.
"I... think I'm ready." He didn't want to say those words, but they'd slip out mindlessly. He picked up the electric razor, flipping it on.
Vic peered in from the hallway, staring to his husband. He bit his lip, as this was as rare for him as it was to Casey.
Cancer is a beast.
Vic could barely allow himself to watch as he ran the razor over his scalp, chunks of hair falling to the floor. Despite not wanting to accept what was happening, he stepped into the bathroom behind him, taking the razor and running over the patches that he had missed.
Setting it on the counter, tears began to fall from Vic's eyes. Casey turned around, pulling him into a tight, reassuring embrace. "I'll beat this. For us," he whispered, with a shaking voice, as he wasn't sure how much truth went into that. Vic broke down, weeping into his shoulder.
That was a year ago.
Casey was practically bedridden.
He lost so much weight. The notches in his spine and each individual rib were easily distinguishable. He face seemed to have sunken in. He was always sleeping. He only ate (and held the food down) on uncommon occasion.
Vic was overwhelmed. This man he's known since he was fifteen was dying right before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do. The man he's loved for about thirteen years. The man that took care of him and provided for him and spilled his soul just to make sure he was happy, and now Vic felt so lost that he couldn't do a thing to help him.
After everything he's gone through... And now he has cancer.
Vic winced when he heard Casey vomiting into the trash can in their bedroom. He was afraid to check on him, fearing he'd once again see blood stuck to his husband's chin.
And then he heard him sobbing.
Vic's fears completely dissipated as he ran back into the bedroom. Casey was curled up, clutching his stomach in agony. But what could Vic do? He couldn't do anything except take him to the hospital, and even then, Casey refused to go.
He climbed into the bed, using a tissue to wipe his husband's mouth. He gently rubbed his side to try and calm him, or reassure him, or something. Tears welled in his own eyes as he touched his cool skin, his fingers moving up and down over each individual rib.
He sat there doing that for almost a half hour before Casey began to ease. As he calmed, Vic wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his lap. Realizing how light he actually was caused some tears to spill over his cheeks. Taking another tissue, he wiped his husband's eyes and nose.
"I'm sorry," he breathed.
"Why?" Vic gently whispered back in a wavering voice, rubbing his eyes with his sleeves. "You have no reason to be."
"I don't want to die..."
His heart dropped. He bit his lip and tried to keep himself from breaking down into sobs, just barely succeeding. "You're not going to die."
"I know I will," he croaked. "I don't want to leave you... I love you."
"I love you too..." Vic swallowed the lump in his throat. "You promised. You'll make it through this."
"I'll fail you."
He tightly hugged him, as if it would keep his soul inside of his body for the rest of his life. "Don't say that," he whimpered.
There was a long silence.
"I wanna sleep," Casey quietly muttered.
His husband kept hold of him for another long moment, at this point afraid to let him sleep any longer; afraid that he wouldn't wake up again. But he gave in to his desire, gingerly lying him back down.
Vic decided to stay in bed with him for the rest of the night.
He woke up to Casey throwing up again, and once more followed by sobs. "Hos-pital," he gagged. "Hospital. Please."
All of Vic's drowsiness disappeared. He quickly got out of the bed, wiping his husband's mouth with a tissue and getting him random clothes, quickly dressing him (and putting the shirt on backwards) and carrying him out to the car.
He sped around corners a little too fast, blazing through traffic and between lanes.
Within minutes, they were in the ER.
And after that, Casey was placed in hospice.
Vic sat beside Casey's bed, weeping. He clutched his hand, almost afraid he'd break it. It was practically impossible to process that fact that Casey was dying right before him. Only a few years after they were married, too. He wasn't even thirty.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I failed you."
Vic tried to calm himself enough to answer. "No... No. You didn't. Please. Please don't be sorry. I love you so much. I love you. I love you."
Casey lightly closed his hand over Vic's. "I love you too... Sleep with me?"
"Yes, yes, I will. I will... I'll sleep right here with you."
Casey grunted as he moved over in the bed. Vic carefully climbed into the bed beside him. Draping an arm around him, they'd both eventually doze off.
When Vic woke up, Casey was lifeless beside him. Once he realized this, he sobbed and held him closer, wishing he could bring him back; even though he never could.
