Game Changer - Chapter 25/35
Category: Slash - Dan (Ashcroft) & Jones
Rating: M
Summary: Jones is ill and Dan takes care of him with the help of Claire, but he fears the worst for Jones
Warnings: There is a lot of talk of vomit, illness mentions, blood mentions etc
Word count: 3343
“Hey sis,” Dan says when Claire finally answers the phone.
“Dan?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he replies.
“What is it?” she asks, confused.
“I have to go in to work in about a half hour, I was wondering if you could be home by then.”
“Why?”
“Jones isn’t feeling well,” he says, glancing at Jones’s sleeping form through the bedroom door. “I don’t really want to leave him alone. You know, in case he needs something.”
“Alright, fine,” she grumbles.
“Thanks Claire.”
“How long d’you think you’re going to be?” she asks.
“As far as I know, er, a few hours?”
“Fine,” she sighs, and he can hear her yawn on the other end. “Why can’t it be The Weekend on Monday?”
“See you soon?” he asks, ignoring her last remark.
“Yeah, alright.”
“Bye.”
Dan slips his phone back into his pocket and steps into the bedroom. Jones is snoring gently with his mouth hanging open, but his lips are dry and a little chapped. Dan sinks onto the bed beside him, sweeping flyaway strands of hair from his forehead. He gently pulls the blankets up his shoulder, giving it a light shake.
“Jones,” he whispers, leaning into his ear. “Jones.”
“Hnn?” he grunts, blearily lifting his head and blinking in Dan’s direction.
“You don’t have to get up,” Dan says hurriedly. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m going in to work now, but Claire’ll be here soon if you need anything, alright?”
“’Kay,” he croaks, letting his head fall back to the pillow.
“Okay,” Dan repeats. “I love you.”
He plants a kiss against Jones’s temple and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. Claire shows up just as he’s slipping on his coat and he thanks her again for keeping an eye on Jones.
The meeting at The Weekend takes place in a large conference room, and is both similar and completely different to those at SugarApe. They sit around the table drinking coffee and Dan’s introduced to the members of the team he isn’t that familiar with. There’s a cheery vibe about the room even as Marcus begins to discuss next week’s issue, sunlight streaming in through the large windows. Everyone contributes to the discussion, whether it be layout, graphics, or themes, and the hours fly by surprisingly fast.
“Hey,” Claire says, looking up as he comes through the front door.
“Hey. How is he?” Dan asks, kicking off his shoes.
“Haven’t heard much from him,” she replies. “He’s still sleeping.”
“Well, that’s something,” he murmurs.
“I’ve put some soup on,” Claire says and shrugs. “I figured he should eat at some point.”
“Thank you, Claire,” Dan says earnestly. “You didn’t have to do that. I really appreciate it.”
“’s really not a problem,” she mumbles, a bit abashed.
He disappears into the bedroom and climbs onto the bed, propping up his head on one hand. Dan places his other on Jones’s cheek. He stirs, opening his eyes slowly and smiling weakly at Dan.
“Hi,” he whispers, his voice rough.
“Hi. How’re you feeling?” Dan croons back.
“Rubbish,” he says, his smile fading. “Knackered.”
“Maybe we should get you to a doctor,” Dan suggests.
“No. No, I’m fine,” he says unconvincingly. “Really, just a bit of a lurgy.”
“Claire’s made some soup,” Dan says, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Shall I come back and let you know when it’s ready?”
“Yeah, sure” he responds with a nod. “Sounds great.”
Jones throws the covers off and pushes himself up slowly as Dan gets to his feet.
“Hey, careful,” he says when he sees Jones pulling his feet towards him and over the side of the bed. “You don’t have to get up yet.”
“Nah, m’alright,” he replies.
Dan hurries to the other side of the bed to help him up, taking him by the arms to steady him as he stands. He insists he’s fine, and will only let Dan hold this hand to help him as they leave the bedroom and Dan leads him over to the couch.
“Hey Jones,” Claire says as he sits down. “Y’alright?”
“Yep,” he says with a smile. “I didn’t even hear you get in.”
“Yeah, I know,” she replies. “You were asleep. I dunno what Dan was so worried about.”
“He doesn’t worry about things,” Jones explains with a playful grin at Dan. “He just worries.”
Dan rolls his eyes and pours some soup into a bowl for him, blowing over the top of to try and cool it down, “Yeah, well.”
“Look at him, even blowing on my soup like a mum,” he laughs and Dan places the bowl on the table in front of him, shaking his head. “You aren’t the one who usually does the blowing, huh Dan?”
Dan goes bright red and Claire pulls a face, “Ugh, god. I don’t need to know, thanks.”
Jones snickers up at Dan cheekily and he thrusts a spoon out to him with a less than impressed look. Jones giggles as Dan shakes his head and Claire frowns between them.
“Eat your soup,” he says shortly, and although his face is set, Jones can hear the invisible smile in his voice.
Claire immerses herself into typing on her laptop again as Dan fills a bowl for himself and sits down next to Jones. He shoots him another cheeky smirk and Dan ruffles his hair, finally cracking a smile, and kisses the tip of his nose. Dan keeps tabs on Jones out the corner of his eye as he tucks in and Jones swirls his spoon in the soup. In the time is takes Dan to finish half his bowl, he’s probably only eaten four spoonfuls, but Dan doesn’t want to push him, so he pretends not to notice.
“It’s good, Claire. Thanks,” Jones remarks, pouring the contents of his spoon back into the bowl and stirring it again.
She smiles softly with a shrug, “I just threw it together, really.”
Dan puts an arms around Jones’s shoulders and he swallows the next spoonful. He strokes Jones’s shoulder with his thumb as Jones leans against his chest, getting soup dripping down to his chin because of the angle of his head. Dan laughs softly and dabs it away with a tissue. He’s sure it must’ve gone cold by now, and doesn’t protest when Jones places the still half-full bowl down on the table. He closes his eyes and nuzzles back against Dan, who kisses the top of his head and continues to stroke his arm.
“What?” he asks as he spots Claire peering over the top of her computer at them.
“Nothing,” she says hastily, returning her gaze back to the screen and starting to type again. Dan quirks an eyebrow, “Nothing! I- you just-. I forgot how good you are at taking care of people. You know, cos you let yourself go to shit so easily.”
She adds the last bit hastily, rolling her eyes to take away from the compliment. He sticks his tongue out at her in reply and the corner of her mouth twitches in a half-smile of relief before she reciprocates. She pushes her hair behind her ear and shakes her head as she returns to the laptop. Dan fights the urge to laugh, giving a short couch to cover up his smile. Jones suddenly sits up on the couch, his eyes flickering open, and he stands up.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Dan asks as he walks off.
“Yeah, m’fine,” he shrugs. “Just need to have a wee is all.”
Dan’s eyes follow him as he crosses the room and reaches the base of the stairs, where he breaks into a kind of sprint. He gets to his feet immediately, and Claire shoots him a sympathetic look as he runs after him.
“Jones!” he calls out as he clambers up the stairs.
He hears the sound of him retching before he sees him. It’s apparent from the way he’s twisted that his knees had slid against the smooth floor, and he clings to the toilet bowl with both hands to keep the upper half of his body over it. Dan lowers himself onto the ground, helping Jones to support his weight as his chest heaves. He strokes his hair, pushing strands ways from his face and mouth as he gasps for air.
“Y’alright?” Dan asks softly, rubbing his back. “D’you want some water to rinse your mouth out?”
Jones nods weakly when he’s caught his breath, “Thanks.”
Dan shuffles over to the sink on his knees and fills a glass and Jones pulls his legs around to sit cross-legged beside the toilet. Dan turns back to hand him the cup, but his eyes are closed and he shakes his head when Dan starts to speak before the rest of his lunch comes up. Dan abandons the glass beside him on the ground as he returns to console Jones once more.
“Ssh, it’s gonna be alright. I’m right here,” he coos.
Jones trembles a bit in his arms, not opening his eyes as he reaches a hand back to Dan. He grabs the glass of water, but gently pushes Jones’s hand down, bringing the edge to his lips. Dan supports the back of his head and neck with one broad hand like a baby, tipping it back to let him take a sip of the water. Jones swishes the water around in his mouth and opens his eyes to spit it out again into the bowl. He takes a small sip and swallows it, turning his head slightly to smile appreciatively at Dan.
“Thanks,” he says hoarsely, but Dan’s eyes have widened and he’s feeling around for a spot to put the glass down. “Wha-?”
Dan’s hands cup his face, his eyes glued to him, “look up.”
“What’d you mean-?”
“Just- just move your eyes. Look up and over there,” he says, pointing.
Jones does as he’s told, his heartbeat starting to speed up as he does, not knowing what’s going on. Dan mutters something under his breath and gently pulls down the skin below his left eye. He runs his other hand down his face, releasing his hold on Jones.
“What?” Jones asks, his voice cracking. “What is it?”
“I-” Dan breathes. “I really think we should get you to a doctor.”
“Why?” he asks, feeling panicked.
He pulls himself towards the sink, gripping it to lift himself up to the mirror. His head swims and he sways with the bout of nausea it brings on, but he continues nonetheless. He sees what Dan’s talking about immediately. One of his bright blue eyes has got a large red spot of blood stretching across the white of his eye. He frowns at it, bending closer to the mirror and pulling the skin below it just as Dan had done.
“Oh,” he says, and Dan can’t quite tell what emotion’s behind the word. “Burst a blood vessel.”
Dan joins him at the mirror as he inspects it.
“Burst… a blood vessel?” he repeats.
“Yeah,” Jones says and takes a deep breath, turning to face him. “Usually clears up in a week or two.”
“Jones,” he says in a very serious tone.
“Dan, I love you. I’m fine, okay? You’re just worried,” he says, taking his arms.
“I think we should get it looked at, Jones.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Jones assures him. “It just looks bad.”
“Jones, really, I think you need to see someone, I know you don’t like doctors and hospitals, but-”
“Alright,” Jones cuts in. “But let’s go tomorrow, okay? I’m really tired.”
“I-” he starts. “Okay.”
He wraps his arms around his middle, pressing his face into the crook of Dan’s neck. He supports Jones by the lower back and slips an arm down to scoop him into his arms. Jones embraces him with a surprising strength as Dan carries him out of the bathroom and down the stairs. He puts Jones back to bed, bringing him some more water and taking an empty bin in for him in case he’s sick again.
“Hey Dan?” he calls quietly as Dan turns off the lights.
“What is it?” he responds softly.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” he says and Dan can’t tell if his voice breaks from his sore throat, or emotion. “I love you.”
“I love you too Jones,” he replies.
“Promise?” he asks in a whisper.
“Of course,” Dan assures him.
“Even when I’m ill and disgusting?”
“You’re not disgusting,” Dan says gently. “And yes, even if you were disgusting I’d still love you. Forever. Now get some sleep.”
“Okay,” he says sleepily. “Love you forever too.”
Dan closes the bedroom door behind him and drops onto Jones’s couch across from Claire, lying down and dangling his socked feet off the end. Claire shoots him a soft smile before going back to her novel. He’s barely closed his eyes five minutes when an idea occurs to him and he sits up again.
“Could I borrow that?” he asks.
“What, the laptop? Um, sure, yeah.”
“Thanks,” he replies and gets up, bringing it back to the other couch and plugging it into the wall. “So, um… how exactly do I…?”
Claire rolls her eyes, sliding her bookmark between the pages and putting it down on the side table.
“What do you want to do?” she asks, getting up and bending down beside Dan’s shoulder to look at the screen.
“I want to do an internet search,” he states and Claire snickers. “What?”
“You’re useless,” she laughs. “Move over.”
He scoots to the end of the couch and she sits down in front of the laptop and begins typing.
“There,” she declares and turns the screen back to him. “Just type in whatever you want to search.”
“Do you think it could tell me what’s wrong with Jones?” he asks as casually as possible as she picks up her book again.
She looks him over slowly for a minute before replying, “Do you think something’s wrong with him?”
“No, I- I just mean, you know, what he has,” he stammers as Claire looks at him skeptically.
“You know something I don’t, don’t you?”
“I know a lot of things you don’t know,” he grumbles and she rolls her eyes. “I just want to help him get better. See if there’s a medicine that’s better than others or something, I don’t know.”
“I never thought I’d see you this in love,” she says after a moment’s pause and he looks up to see her smiling. “I am happy, really, I am.”
“Thanks sis,” he says with a small blush and quickly goes back to the search engine she’d opened for him.
Dan takes a deep breath, thinking back on the past few days as he begins to type every symptom of Jones’s that he can remember: ‘easy bleeding, weakness, exhaustion…’ he gets caught up in another internet search in which he learns the technical name for the tiny bruises on Jones’s upper thigh. He continues, ‘petechiae, loss of appetite, weight loss, nosebleed’. The small white arrow hovers over the ‘search’ button as Dan collects himself, a knot in his stomach. He clicks the button and waits for the pages of results to pop up. The blue text doesn’t load quickly, but the first word he reads is enough to make his heart stop: Leukaemia.
Dan feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, the world swims around him as the one blue word stares back at him from the bright screen. He can’t seem to breathe, can’t seem to blink, or tear his eyes away from the headlines as one after another stabs him in the chest. Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia, acute myeloid leukaemia, symptoms of leukaemia.
His mind is somehow both screaming and silent simultaneously, and the only word he seems to be capable of thinking is ‘no’. The single word plays over and over in his mind until his brain is practically throbbing, and he runs his hands over his face trying to make some sense of any of it. He’s suddenly jolted back into reality when there’s a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, shaking him.
“Dan. Dan!”
“Huh?” he starts, looking up at Claire.
“What is it?” she asks quickly. “Have you lost your mind?”
He suddenly realises that he must have been muttering ‘no’ out loud as well, and slams the laptop shut.
“I’m fine,” he says quickly, but it’s clear from her expression that she doesn’t believe him. She opens her mouth to say something, but Dan cut’s her off, “Don’t-”
He goes abruptly quiet and both of their heads snap towards the bedroom door. Dan practically leaps to his feet at the sound, and Claire stands frozen to the spot in stunned silence as he sprints towards the noise coming from behind the door, the laptop still clutched tightly to his chest.
“Dan?” she asks again, quieter this time, but he doesn’t hear her.
He throws the door open, blood pounding in his ears, to find Jones sitting cross-legged on the bed, hugging the bin to him, his shoulders hunched forward. Dan slides the computer onto the desk hurriedly and crawls onto the bed as Jones gags. He wraps his arms around Jones and the bin protectively, laying a broad hand on the back of Jones’s neck to stroke his hair and holding the bin still with the other. Jones sounds awful as he’s sick, his throat scratchy and hoarse. Dan holds him tighter, pressing his forehead to Jones’s temple and kissing his hair, his chest feeling tight.
Jones pants, lifting his head from the top of the bin with his eyes squeezed shut, his bottom lip trembling. Dan wipes away foam from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and wipes it absentmindedly on his trousers. He cups Jones’s cheek, turning his head toward him.
“Jones?” he asks, and he hates his voice for the way it shakes.
“Dan, please take it away,” Jones rasps, his brow creasing and his eyes still firmly shut. “The smell’s making it worse.”
“Okay,” Dan says, pulling the bin from out of his grasp.
Jones flops limply onto his chest and he holds him tight, taking a deep breath through his hair. He holds the bin at arms distance, as far away as he possibly can as he continues to cradle the weak Jones. He doesn’t even notice she’s there with them until she gently pulls it from his fingers. He opens his eyes and sees Claire give him that same grim look as she walks back to the door, shaking her head when he starts to thank her.
When she disappears from sight once more, Jones gives a ragged cough, and Dan goes back to cupping his face. He tries to console him, cooing softly as he strokes his hair with the other hand. Jones’s shoulders jerk forward again, but this time it’s a stifled sob that escapes his lips. Dan tightens his grip on him again, kissing the top of his head over and over as he trembles. Just as he’s started to comfort him, telling him he’s going to be okay, he hears Claire call his name sharply.
“Dan!”
His head snaps up and he hastily lays Jones down on the bed again as gently as he can. Dan practically leaps off the bed, flying up the stairs.
“What is it?” he asks breathlessly.
She doesn’t answer, but instead turns her wide eyes to him and extends the bin. For a moment he’s confused, but then he notices that the foamy bile in the bottom of the bin is tinged pink. His heart drops in his chest, and he’s almost sick himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing as he runs back downstairs to the bedroom, his legs moving of their own accord. When Jones looks up at him from the pillow, he knows that this time he won’t bother arguing with Dan.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Chapter 26
Rating: M
Summary: Jones is ill and Dan takes care of him with the help of Claire, but he fears the worst for Jones
Warnings: There is a lot of talk of vomit, illness mentions, blood mentions etc
Word count: 3343
“Hey sis,” Dan says when Claire finally answers the phone.
“Dan?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he replies.
“What is it?” she asks, confused.
“I have to go in to work in about a half hour, I was wondering if you could be home by then.”
“Why?”
“Jones isn’t feeling well,” he says, glancing at Jones’s sleeping form through the bedroom door. “I don’t really want to leave him alone. You know, in case he needs something.”
“Alright, fine,” she grumbles.
“Thanks Claire.”
“How long d’you think you’re going to be?” she asks.
“As far as I know, er, a few hours?”
“Fine,” she sighs, and he can hear her yawn on the other end. “Why can’t it be The Weekend on Monday?”
“See you soon?” he asks, ignoring her last remark.
“Yeah, alright.”
“Bye.”
Dan slips his phone back into his pocket and steps into the bedroom. Jones is snoring gently with his mouth hanging open, but his lips are dry and a little chapped. Dan sinks onto the bed beside him, sweeping flyaway strands of hair from his forehead. He gently pulls the blankets up his shoulder, giving it a light shake.
“Jones,” he whispers, leaning into his ear. “Jones.”
“Hnn?” he grunts, blearily lifting his head and blinking in Dan’s direction.
“You don’t have to get up,” Dan says hurriedly. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m going in to work now, but Claire’ll be here soon if you need anything, alright?”
“’Kay,” he croaks, letting his head fall back to the pillow.
“Okay,” Dan repeats. “I love you.”
He plants a kiss against Jones’s temple and leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. Claire shows up just as he’s slipping on his coat and he thanks her again for keeping an eye on Jones.
The meeting at The Weekend takes place in a large conference room, and is both similar and completely different to those at SugarApe. They sit around the table drinking coffee and Dan’s introduced to the members of the team he isn’t that familiar with. There’s a cheery vibe about the room even as Marcus begins to discuss next week’s issue, sunlight streaming in through the large windows. Everyone contributes to the discussion, whether it be layout, graphics, or themes, and the hours fly by surprisingly fast.
“Hey,” Claire says, looking up as he comes through the front door.
“Hey. How is he?” Dan asks, kicking off his shoes.
“Haven’t heard much from him,” she replies. “He’s still sleeping.”
“Well, that’s something,” he murmurs.
“I’ve put some soup on,” Claire says and shrugs. “I figured he should eat at some point.”
“Thank you, Claire,” Dan says earnestly. “You didn’t have to do that. I really appreciate it.”
“’s really not a problem,” she mumbles, a bit abashed.
He disappears into the bedroom and climbs onto the bed, propping up his head on one hand. Dan places his other on Jones’s cheek. He stirs, opening his eyes slowly and smiling weakly at Dan.
“Hi,” he whispers, his voice rough.
“Hi. How’re you feeling?” Dan croons back.
“Rubbish,” he says, his smile fading. “Knackered.”
“Maybe we should get you to a doctor,” Dan suggests.
“No. No, I’m fine,” he says unconvincingly. “Really, just a bit of a lurgy.”
“Claire’s made some soup,” Dan says, stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Shall I come back and let you know when it’s ready?”
“Yeah, sure” he responds with a nod. “Sounds great.”
Jones throws the covers off and pushes himself up slowly as Dan gets to his feet.
“Hey, careful,” he says when he sees Jones pulling his feet towards him and over the side of the bed. “You don’t have to get up yet.”
“Nah, m’alright,” he replies.
Dan hurries to the other side of the bed to help him up, taking him by the arms to steady him as he stands. He insists he’s fine, and will only let Dan hold this hand to help him as they leave the bedroom and Dan leads him over to the couch.
“Hey Jones,” Claire says as he sits down. “Y’alright?”
“Yep,” he says with a smile. “I didn’t even hear you get in.”
“Yeah, I know,” she replies. “You were asleep. I dunno what Dan was so worried about.”
“He doesn’t worry about things,” Jones explains with a playful grin at Dan. “He just worries.”
Dan rolls his eyes and pours some soup into a bowl for him, blowing over the top of to try and cool it down, “Yeah, well.”
“Look at him, even blowing on my soup like a mum,” he laughs and Dan places the bowl on the table in front of him, shaking his head. “You aren’t the one who usually does the blowing, huh Dan?”
Dan goes bright red and Claire pulls a face, “Ugh, god. I don’t need to know, thanks.”
Jones snickers up at Dan cheekily and he thrusts a spoon out to him with a less than impressed look. Jones giggles as Dan shakes his head and Claire frowns between them.
“Eat your soup,” he says shortly, and although his face is set, Jones can hear the invisible smile in his voice.
Claire immerses herself into typing on her laptop again as Dan fills a bowl for himself and sits down next to Jones. He shoots him another cheeky smirk and Dan ruffles his hair, finally cracking a smile, and kisses the tip of his nose. Dan keeps tabs on Jones out the corner of his eye as he tucks in and Jones swirls his spoon in the soup. In the time is takes Dan to finish half his bowl, he’s probably only eaten four spoonfuls, but Dan doesn’t want to push him, so he pretends not to notice.
“It’s good, Claire. Thanks,” Jones remarks, pouring the contents of his spoon back into the bowl and stirring it again.
She smiles softly with a shrug, “I just threw it together, really.”
Dan puts an arms around Jones’s shoulders and he swallows the next spoonful. He strokes Jones’s shoulder with his thumb as Jones leans against his chest, getting soup dripping down to his chin because of the angle of his head. Dan laughs softly and dabs it away with a tissue. He’s sure it must’ve gone cold by now, and doesn’t protest when Jones places the still half-full bowl down on the table. He closes his eyes and nuzzles back against Dan, who kisses the top of his head and continues to stroke his arm.
“What?” he asks as he spots Claire peering over the top of her computer at them.
“Nothing,” she says hastily, returning her gaze back to the screen and starting to type again. Dan quirks an eyebrow, “Nothing! I- you just-. I forgot how good you are at taking care of people. You know, cos you let yourself go to shit so easily.”
She adds the last bit hastily, rolling her eyes to take away from the compliment. He sticks his tongue out at her in reply and the corner of her mouth twitches in a half-smile of relief before she reciprocates. She pushes her hair behind her ear and shakes her head as she returns to the laptop. Dan fights the urge to laugh, giving a short couch to cover up his smile. Jones suddenly sits up on the couch, his eyes flickering open, and he stands up.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Dan asks as he walks off.
“Yeah, m’fine,” he shrugs. “Just need to have a wee is all.”
Dan’s eyes follow him as he crosses the room and reaches the base of the stairs, where he breaks into a kind of sprint. He gets to his feet immediately, and Claire shoots him a sympathetic look as he runs after him.
“Jones!” he calls out as he clambers up the stairs.
He hears the sound of him retching before he sees him. It’s apparent from the way he’s twisted that his knees had slid against the smooth floor, and he clings to the toilet bowl with both hands to keep the upper half of his body over it. Dan lowers himself onto the ground, helping Jones to support his weight as his chest heaves. He strokes his hair, pushing strands ways from his face and mouth as he gasps for air.
“Y’alright?” Dan asks softly, rubbing his back. “D’you want some water to rinse your mouth out?”
Jones nods weakly when he’s caught his breath, “Thanks.”
Dan shuffles over to the sink on his knees and fills a glass and Jones pulls his legs around to sit cross-legged beside the toilet. Dan turns back to hand him the cup, but his eyes are closed and he shakes his head when Dan starts to speak before the rest of his lunch comes up. Dan abandons the glass beside him on the ground as he returns to console Jones once more.
“Ssh, it’s gonna be alright. I’m right here,” he coos.
Jones trembles a bit in his arms, not opening his eyes as he reaches a hand back to Dan. He grabs the glass of water, but gently pushes Jones’s hand down, bringing the edge to his lips. Dan supports the back of his head and neck with one broad hand like a baby, tipping it back to let him take a sip of the water. Jones swishes the water around in his mouth and opens his eyes to spit it out again into the bowl. He takes a small sip and swallows it, turning his head slightly to smile appreciatively at Dan.
“Thanks,” he says hoarsely, but Dan’s eyes have widened and he’s feeling around for a spot to put the glass down. “Wha-?”
Dan’s hands cup his face, his eyes glued to him, “look up.”
“What’d you mean-?”
“Just- just move your eyes. Look up and over there,” he says, pointing.
Jones does as he’s told, his heartbeat starting to speed up as he does, not knowing what’s going on. Dan mutters something under his breath and gently pulls down the skin below his left eye. He runs his other hand down his face, releasing his hold on Jones.
“What?” Jones asks, his voice cracking. “What is it?”
“I-” Dan breathes. “I really think we should get you to a doctor.”
“Why?” he asks, feeling panicked.
He pulls himself towards the sink, gripping it to lift himself up to the mirror. His head swims and he sways with the bout of nausea it brings on, but he continues nonetheless. He sees what Dan’s talking about immediately. One of his bright blue eyes has got a large red spot of blood stretching across the white of his eye. He frowns at it, bending closer to the mirror and pulling the skin below it just as Dan had done.
“Oh,” he says, and Dan can’t quite tell what emotion’s behind the word. “Burst a blood vessel.”
Dan joins him at the mirror as he inspects it.
“Burst… a blood vessel?” he repeats.
“Yeah,” Jones says and takes a deep breath, turning to face him. “Usually clears up in a week or two.”
“Jones,” he says in a very serious tone.
“Dan, I love you. I’m fine, okay? You’re just worried,” he says, taking his arms.
“I think we should get it looked at, Jones.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” Jones assures him. “It just looks bad.”
“Jones, really, I think you need to see someone, I know you don’t like doctors and hospitals, but-”
“Alright,” Jones cuts in. “But let’s go tomorrow, okay? I’m really tired.”
“I-” he starts. “Okay.”
He wraps his arms around his middle, pressing his face into the crook of Dan’s neck. He supports Jones by the lower back and slips an arm down to scoop him into his arms. Jones embraces him with a surprising strength as Dan carries him out of the bathroom and down the stairs. He puts Jones back to bed, bringing him some more water and taking an empty bin in for him in case he’s sick again.
“Hey Dan?” he calls quietly as Dan turns off the lights.
“What is it?” he responds softly.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” he says and Dan can’t tell if his voice breaks from his sore throat, or emotion. “I love you.”
“I love you too Jones,” he replies.
“Promise?” he asks in a whisper.
“Of course,” Dan assures him.
“Even when I’m ill and disgusting?”
“You’re not disgusting,” Dan says gently. “And yes, even if you were disgusting I’d still love you. Forever. Now get some sleep.”
“Okay,” he says sleepily. “Love you forever too.”
Dan closes the bedroom door behind him and drops onto Jones’s couch across from Claire, lying down and dangling his socked feet off the end. Claire shoots him a soft smile before going back to her novel. He’s barely closed his eyes five minutes when an idea occurs to him and he sits up again.
“Could I borrow that?” he asks.
“What, the laptop? Um, sure, yeah.”
“Thanks,” he replies and gets up, bringing it back to the other couch and plugging it into the wall. “So, um… how exactly do I…?”
Claire rolls her eyes, sliding her bookmark between the pages and putting it down on the side table.
“What do you want to do?” she asks, getting up and bending down beside Dan’s shoulder to look at the screen.
“I want to do an internet search,” he states and Claire snickers. “What?”
“You’re useless,” she laughs. “Move over.”
He scoots to the end of the couch and she sits down in front of the laptop and begins typing.
“There,” she declares and turns the screen back to him. “Just type in whatever you want to search.”
“Do you think it could tell me what’s wrong with Jones?” he asks as casually as possible as she picks up her book again.
She looks him over slowly for a minute before replying, “Do you think something’s wrong with him?”
“No, I- I just mean, you know, what he has,” he stammers as Claire looks at him skeptically.
“You know something I don’t, don’t you?”
“I know a lot of things you don’t know,” he grumbles and she rolls her eyes. “I just want to help him get better. See if there’s a medicine that’s better than others or something, I don’t know.”
“I never thought I’d see you this in love,” she says after a moment’s pause and he looks up to see her smiling. “I am happy, really, I am.”
“Thanks sis,” he says with a small blush and quickly goes back to the search engine she’d opened for him.
Dan takes a deep breath, thinking back on the past few days as he begins to type every symptom of Jones’s that he can remember: ‘easy bleeding, weakness, exhaustion…’ he gets caught up in another internet search in which he learns the technical name for the tiny bruises on Jones’s upper thigh. He continues, ‘petechiae, loss of appetite, weight loss, nosebleed’. The small white arrow hovers over the ‘search’ button as Dan collects himself, a knot in his stomach. He clicks the button and waits for the pages of results to pop up. The blue text doesn’t load quickly, but the first word he reads is enough to make his heart stop: Leukaemia.
Dan feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, the world swims around him as the one blue word stares back at him from the bright screen. He can’t seem to breathe, can’t seem to blink, or tear his eyes away from the headlines as one after another stabs him in the chest. Acute lymphoblastic leukaemia, acute myeloid leukaemia, symptoms of leukaemia.
His mind is somehow both screaming and silent simultaneously, and the only word he seems to be capable of thinking is ‘no’. The single word plays over and over in his mind until his brain is practically throbbing, and he runs his hands over his face trying to make some sense of any of it. He’s suddenly jolted back into reality when there’s a firm hand clamped down on his shoulder, shaking him.
“Dan. Dan!”
“Huh?” he starts, looking up at Claire.
“What is it?” she asks quickly. “Have you lost your mind?”
He suddenly realises that he must have been muttering ‘no’ out loud as well, and slams the laptop shut.
“I’m fine,” he says quickly, but it’s clear from her expression that she doesn’t believe him. She opens her mouth to say something, but Dan cut’s her off, “Don’t-”
He goes abruptly quiet and both of their heads snap towards the bedroom door. Dan practically leaps to his feet at the sound, and Claire stands frozen to the spot in stunned silence as he sprints towards the noise coming from behind the door, the laptop still clutched tightly to his chest.
“Dan?” she asks again, quieter this time, but he doesn’t hear her.
He throws the door open, blood pounding in his ears, to find Jones sitting cross-legged on the bed, hugging the bin to him, his shoulders hunched forward. Dan slides the computer onto the desk hurriedly and crawls onto the bed as Jones gags. He wraps his arms around Jones and the bin protectively, laying a broad hand on the back of Jones’s neck to stroke his hair and holding the bin still with the other. Jones sounds awful as he’s sick, his throat scratchy and hoarse. Dan holds him tighter, pressing his forehead to Jones’s temple and kissing his hair, his chest feeling tight.
Jones pants, lifting his head from the top of the bin with his eyes squeezed shut, his bottom lip trembling. Dan wipes away foam from the corner of his mouth with the pad of his thumb and wipes it absentmindedly on his trousers. He cups Jones’s cheek, turning his head toward him.
“Jones?” he asks, and he hates his voice for the way it shakes.
“Dan, please take it away,” Jones rasps, his brow creasing and his eyes still firmly shut. “The smell’s making it worse.”
“Okay,” Dan says, pulling the bin from out of his grasp.
Jones flops limply onto his chest and he holds him tight, taking a deep breath through his hair. He holds the bin at arms distance, as far away as he possibly can as he continues to cradle the weak Jones. He doesn’t even notice she’s there with them until she gently pulls it from his fingers. He opens his eyes and sees Claire give him that same grim look as she walks back to the door, shaking her head when he starts to thank her.
When she disappears from sight once more, Jones gives a ragged cough, and Dan goes back to cupping his face. He tries to console him, cooing softly as he strokes his hair with the other hand. Jones’s shoulders jerk forward again, but this time it’s a stifled sob that escapes his lips. Dan tightens his grip on him again, kissing the top of his head over and over as he trembles. Just as he’s started to comfort him, telling him he’s going to be okay, he hears Claire call his name sharply.
“Dan!”
His head snaps up and he hastily lays Jones down on the bed again as gently as he can. Dan practically leaps off the bed, flying up the stairs.
“What is it?” he asks breathlessly.
She doesn’t answer, but instead turns her wide eyes to him and extends the bin. For a moment he’s confused, but then he notices that the foamy bile in the bottom of the bin is tinged pink. His heart drops in his chest, and he’s almost sick himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing as he runs back downstairs to the bedroom, his legs moving of their own accord. When Jones looks up at him from the pillow, he knows that this time he won’t bother arguing with Dan.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.”
Chapter 26