Weightless

30) Disquietude

(1 day later) 5th of July 2017

"The blood test came back clear."

Charlie's words from the other end of the line manage to both relieve and scare Cal. Ethan is fine, the weight loss is definitely self-inflicted - somehow it's a comfort and additionally a nightmare storyline.

But there's no other physical illness going on. Ethan is fine in that respect. Just fine. It's definitely something that's going on up in his head; something that obviously is just as important as a physical illness, and needs proper care, and Cal will provide it. Cal breathes more calmly than he did before.

"Thanks, Charlie," Cal says gratefully. He's relieved Charlie managed to do this so efficiently; it worked out well, even if it was remarkably sneaky and likely a starter to a future argument. Ethan wouldn't be able to grasp that Cal had betrayed his trust for his own good. "That was fast."

"Yes, well, we don't particularly have time on our side, do we?

Cal already knew that, but hearing someone he trusts say it makes him fear time even more.

"Is he going into treatment soon?"

"Yes. Very soon - like, sometime this week soon, the day after the 'official diagnosis' soon. I mean, it's not like I haven't guessed the diagnosis."

"Good. I'm really glad it's sorted."

"Me too."

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(1 day later) 6th of July 2017

"Isn't that brilliant, Ethan?"

Ethan blinks at his brother - Cal is dosed up on caffeine, dressed in those jeans that mean he feels better, because sweats have always ever shown Cal isn't feeling like himself, and perched on the edge of the sofa, smiling, waiting... so proud of himself. So relieved.

Ethan isn't. He is not pleased at all.

There's nothing brilliant about needing an appointment with a psychiatrist. There is nothing worth smiling about that it's in a few hours because Cal claimed Ethan is an emergency; or some other bullshit that got him bumped up.

Ethan swallows back all appreciation and slams the bedroom door behind him.

As much as Ethan denies it, he knows he has a problem. Yet the thought of trying to... solve it, that makes his chest tighten.

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Obviously they knew it was bad before. Ethan has already spilled his heart out to Cal, admitting more than he thought he ever would to his brother. He'd cried into his shoulder and broke in the cradle of his arms and yet, he still can't get the words out presently.

The psychiatrist eyes him with a practised detached look.

Cal tells the psychiatrist - named Dr Yaw, a man with a wiry beard and kind brown eyes - everything. Even the difficult parts. The ones that make Ethan's stomach twist strangely and his shoulders shake. Ethan sits with his hands in his lap and wishes he weren't here.

He knows he should be grateful that he's being given free and immediate treatment by the NHS, by a sympathetic doctor - it's a service which deserves nothing but praise for its relentless hard work, though that's not to say it's not damn difficult sometimes, what with waiting lists and too little space and overworked medics with bosses just too keen to fill a quota. Ethan is well aware of medical world politics and should be far more grateful than he currently is. Yet he can't find any appreciation in him. Not a snatch, especially not when Dr Yaw carefully asks: