(no subject)
Title: Beautiful Love.
Author: Jessica H.
Rating: PG.
Characters: Wayne, Greg.
Notes: In response to asuka14’s challenge: “God, something with Wayne. Please something with Wayne. There are no Wayne stories in existence. Uumm... pairing... Greg/Wayne, Colin/Wayne or Brad/Wayne. Plot? Wayne's sick! *cackles* He's sick and doesn't want to admit but whomever (Greg, Colin or Brad) knows and yes. :) Basically a hurt/comfort tale.”
I knew something was wrong the minute he walked into the studio that day. He didn’t look right. His face was sad…sullen and sunken. I went up to him and asked what was wrong. After getting just a look and a brush off, I felt the way his face looked. What was going through his head? He shared everything with me…why not this? What was so bad that he couldn’t tell me?
I walked slowly toward his dressing room, looking back and forth to make sure no producers were waiting in hiding to jump out at me and pull me to make-up and wardrobe. I snuck in quietly and shut the door behind me. I was safe…for now.
Looking around his room, a wave of guilt slowly came over me. What was I thinking, sneaking around? If he wanted to tell me something, he would’ve already…right? Who was I to delve into his life…his life outside of me? Well, now there’s an interesting concept. I may share nearly everything with Wayne…his home, his heart, his bed…but I don’t share his mind. That’s all him. I was about to try to tap into that which did not belong to me. If something was bothering him, he’d tell me.
Right?
So why was I digging through the papers cluttered on his desk, scrounging for something? Bills…fan letters…hospital notice…wait.
I looked carefully and warily at the envelope in my hands. It had been torn apart hastily, judging by the numerous tears and cuts. Should I look? Should I infringe upon his private health life? This was none of my business, none at all…
So why was I taking out the piece of paper inside the envelope and unfolding it like it was my dead grandfather’s will leaving me ten million?
Test results.
Positive for HIV.
I couldn’t feel anything. The floor seemed to be slipping out from underneath me. How could…how did he…did that mean I…was he…was I…?
My glorious Jesus in heaven.
He came into the room at that moment, before I could shove the paper away. He caught my eye…and we both started crying. Ryan found us crumpled on the couch together, wrapped up in each other’s arms…not knowing what to do or where to turn. He silently picked up the stray paper from the small table and read it, gasping aloud. Colin followed him, and Ryan showed him the news without saying a word. Colin and Ryan gave each other one of those looks…one of their psychic, “I know exactly what you’re thinking so don’t say anything” looks…and for once, I didn’t mind it.
Soon, our group was on the floor, sitting in a circle, discussing our options and what we could do about this. We decided that, even if I had it too, the best thing to do would be to abstain from sex…we knew that it was not going to be a sacrifice made in vain.
We went on stage that day, not saying anything to anyone, but giving each other reassuring squeezes, gestures, and looks…
Because we knew that no matter what those test results said, we were perfect in each other’s eyes.
Author: Jessica H.
Rating: PG.
Characters: Wayne, Greg.
Notes: In response to asuka14’s challenge: “God, something with Wayne. Please something with Wayne. There are no Wayne stories in existence. Uumm... pairing... Greg/Wayne, Colin/Wayne or Brad/Wayne. Plot? Wayne's sick! *cackles* He's sick and doesn't want to admit but whomever (Greg, Colin or Brad) knows and yes. :) Basically a hurt/comfort tale.”
I knew something was wrong the minute he walked into the studio that day. He didn’t look right. His face was sad…sullen and sunken. I went up to him and asked what was wrong. After getting just a look and a brush off, I felt the way his face looked. What was going through his head? He shared everything with me…why not this? What was so bad that he couldn’t tell me?
I walked slowly toward his dressing room, looking back and forth to make sure no producers were waiting in hiding to jump out at me and pull me to make-up and wardrobe. I snuck in quietly and shut the door behind me. I was safe…for now.
Looking around his room, a wave of guilt slowly came over me. What was I thinking, sneaking around? If he wanted to tell me something, he would’ve already…right? Who was I to delve into his life…his life outside of me? Well, now there’s an interesting concept. I may share nearly everything with Wayne…his home, his heart, his bed…but I don’t share his mind. That’s all him. I was about to try to tap into that which did not belong to me. If something was bothering him, he’d tell me.
Right?
So why was I digging through the papers cluttered on his desk, scrounging for something? Bills…fan letters…hospital notice…wait.
I looked carefully and warily at the envelope in my hands. It had been torn apart hastily, judging by the numerous tears and cuts. Should I look? Should I infringe upon his private health life? This was none of my business, none at all…
So why was I taking out the piece of paper inside the envelope and unfolding it like it was my dead grandfather’s will leaving me ten million?
Test results.
Positive for HIV.
I couldn’t feel anything. The floor seemed to be slipping out from underneath me. How could…how did he…did that mean I…was he…was I…?
My glorious Jesus in heaven.
He came into the room at that moment, before I could shove the paper away. He caught my eye…and we both started crying. Ryan found us crumpled on the couch together, wrapped up in each other’s arms…not knowing what to do or where to turn. He silently picked up the stray paper from the small table and read it, gasping aloud. Colin followed him, and Ryan showed him the news without saying a word. Colin and Ryan gave each other one of those looks…one of their psychic, “I know exactly what you’re thinking so don’t say anything” looks…and for once, I didn’t mind it.
Soon, our group was on the floor, sitting in a circle, discussing our options and what we could do about this. We decided that, even if I had it too, the best thing to do would be to abstain from sex…we knew that it was not going to be a sacrifice made in vain.
We went on stage that day, not saying anything to anyone, but giving each other reassuring squeezes, gestures, and looks…
Because we knew that no matter what those test results said, we were perfect in each other’s eyes.