Chapter Seven

The dry heaves were back. Quentin was so sick of hanging over a toilet. Sometimes the anti-nausea meds worked, but that required keeping them down. Quentin kept nothing down anymore.

"Snow called again. What do you want me to tell him?"

Quentin's stomach heaved again. He spit in the toilet. "Does this look like the time, Adam?"

"I know, but he should be here with you."

Quentin curled up into a ball on the bathroom floor, letting the cold marble cool him. He didn't care it was a bathroom floor. Nothing fucking mattered. "No. He should be with Pink. What could he do for me? Watch me puke? I already have an audience."

"Do you want me to carry you to bed?"

Quentin draped an arm across his eyes. "No. I don't want to run back in a few minutes."

"Would you like a blanket or some water?"

"I want to lie here and die."

Adam growled.

Quentin didn't care. He was the one suffering. Everyone else could get fucked. He knew he was being difficult, but goddamn. Quentin just wanted to be left alone in his misery. He didn't want to be anyone's burden. Quentin wanted to sleep. The exhaustion was so much worse today. He had nothing left. The life was gone from him.

"I'll call Dr. Christie."

"For fuck's sake. There's nothing he can do." Even Quentin heard how weak he sounded. His head spun. God, he hoped that meant he was about to pass out or die. Three months he had been doing a combo of chemo and radiation. He had almost immediately lost his hair. His ability to walk was slowly fading again. Snow kept calling and Quentin couldn't bring himself to answer. He had made a mistake by turning to Quentin. Pink was doing well in therapy, according to Adam. Soon Pink would be a normal adult with a bright future, Quentin would be dead, and Snow would be free. The room spun again. Quentin closed his eyes and recaptured the memory of another time the room had spun, and it had been beautiful.

Loud and upbeat music blasted throughout the house. They had done group therapy earlier in the day and a horrible shadow had fallen over all the guys. Quentin had turned on the sound system, hoping to lift the mood. He laughed, watching a few of the guys trying out their dance moves. The smiles were returning.

John pointed his way. "Your turn."

Quentin grabbed the wheels of his chair and gave them a little shake. "That's all I have."

Snow snorted. "We can do better than that." He easily swept Quentin from his chair. His eyes danced with laughter as he matched the beat of the music. Laugher filled the air as he spun as fast as he could with Quentin held against his chest. Happiness burst through him. With his arms wrapped around Snow's neck, they held each other's stare. Quentin realized something. He loved Snow. More than that. He was in love with Snow. Snow gave him the greatest gift every day by simply existing as himself. He wanted to spin forever in Snow's arms.

A tear ran from the corner of Quentin's eye. They'd had a great life together. He had no regrets. Quentin had left nearly everything to Snow in his will. Adam would get a hefty chunk and the rest of the guys would be set for life, but everything else would go to Snow. He could look back on Quentin in fondness as he finally found the peace he had never been given. Quentin would be free of the suffering and the memory of the horrible way Snow had looked at him the last time Quentin saw him. Tears ran from Quentin's eyes unchecked. He was so tired. God, the way Snow had looked so fucking exhausted from taking care of everyone else. That look burned into his brain. He had done that. Quentin was the burden that had worn him down to nothing, turning his love into resentment. Just as Quentin had always feared.

Quentin had gone to get him coffee, and something inside him had broken. In that moment, Quentin had seen himself clearer than ever. He was selfish. The moment he knew about the cancer, he had run straight to Snow, knowing he would be here. He had known Snow would never refuse to take up the millstone he was. Quentin also knew he would have to be the one who let go. Snow felt too much obligation toward him. Quentin was Snow's version of Stockholm Syndrome. He had to set Snow free.

A blanket covered him. Quentin didn't feel it. A painful twitch seized his body, causing him to involuntarily jerk. Quentin didn't fight it. His breathing got shallower. He gasped. His body fought for the precious air it needed, but Quentin didn't. It would be over soon. He hated that Adam had to see him go out like a fish out of water, taking his final breaths. He was so damn glad it was over, though. Quentin was tired of the fight. There was nothing left for him here. Maybe in the next life.

If Snow thought the months he spent without Quentin after Quentin kicked him out were long, they were nothing compared to the past three months. After Quentin had left Snow at the hospital overnight, Adam had shown up the next day with their stuff in tow and a key to an apartment within walking distance of where Pink had been admitted for his mental health. He had been informed all expenses would be covered and he should focus solely on Pink. Pink had chosen to stay for a month doing in-patient care. Snow had honestly thought he would still get to see Quentin for the duration. He had not. Again, he had been completely cut from Quentin's life. Unlike the last time, Snow didn't even have the luxury of sneaking into the house to stalk Quentin. He had tried once, but Adam had caught him. It turned out Adam had always known when Snow sneaked inside. This time around, Adam wasn't having it. He simply informed Snow he wouldn't be allowed to watch Quentin suffer, and that was all he would see if he stayed. That murdered Snow's soul. He couldn't stand knowing Quentin fought alone.

"Do you want me to try calling him?"

Snow tapped his phone on his knee. He barely heard Pink's question. There was a terrible feeling in his gut he couldn't shake.

"No. I can't make him—" The phone in his hand rang, cutting off his explanation. He quickly answered, desperate to hear Quentin's voice. "Hello?"

"It's Adam."

A lump formed in Snow's throat. He already knew before Adam's next words fell.

"The paramedics are working on him now. It doesn't look good."

Snow took a shaky breath. "Where are they taking him?"

"General. That's the only hospital with a landing pad. Life flight just got here."

"I'm on my way."

"Snow." Snow paused halfway to his feet and disconnected the call.

"Yeah."

Adam didn't say anything.

Snow covered his eyes.

"What is it?" Pink sounded panicked.

Snow sniffed. He was two seconds from falling apart.

"He loved you until the end."

Snow lost his shit. He tossed the phone away and covered his face. Air refused to enter his seized lungs. He knew he should have stormed Quentin's house and forced his way back inside. The only thing that stopped him was everything. Everyone there still hated him. Pink had needed him. The way he had yelled at Quentin the last time they spoke, demanding Quentin go home—like he was tired of dealing with him.

Pink rubbed his back while Snow kept his head between his knees and tried to breathe. Quentin had died thinking he had been a burden to Snow, while Snow hadn't known how to fix it. All the therapy in the world hadn't taught him how to problem solve. He sucked at navigating the most important relationships in his life.

He sat up. Snow had to see him. He couldn't let the memory of Quentin's face at the hospital be the final time he saw him. Quentin deserved to have Snow be there. He had saved Snow when no one else would have. When Snow had accepted his only escape would likely mean death, Quentin had appeared like a saving grace and pulled him from hell. And Snow had abandoned him to die alone.

"I have to go to him."

Pink nodded. "Okay. I'll drive. That terrifyingly huge SUV Adam left for us," Pink added under his breath, obviously for himself.

Snow made a dismissive gesture. "No. I'm good. Quentin needs me. I can fall apart after I see him. Right now, I have to see this through."

Pink looked more than a little worried, but he quickly grabbed his shoes. Together, they headed for the hospital. Somehow, Snow followed all the rules of the road. There was no need to rush. Snow knew Quentin wasn't really there. It was only his body, but he still had to go. He had to have a few minutes with him.

Pink held his hand as they made their way inside the ER. He headed for the window. Snow didn't know if they would let him see Quentin, but he had to try.

"Snow."

Snow turned and spotted Adam already waiting. He looked like shit. Adam stayed impeccably dressed, showing pride in his position as Quentin's personal butler. Today, he wore jeans and a t-shirt that had seen better days. His hair looked like Adam had been running his fingers through it. The locks stood on end. Snow headed his way.

"The ambulance brought me on the heels of life flight."

Pink blinked. "They'll do that?"

Adam flashed Pink a sad smile. "For the right price, anyone will do anything. I needed to get here in a hurry." He met Snow's stare. "They got a pulse on him. It's weak. I don't know if it held. No one's told me anything."

Snow's knees tried giving out.

Adam maneuvered him toward a chair.

Snow sat. "Tell me everything."

Adam took the chair beside him. "It's been bad. So much worse than last time. I can't get him to eat. Not that he can keep it down anyway. Anything he drinks comes right back up. He spends all day alternating between dry heaving and sleeping on the bathroom floor."

"Why didn't you call me?"

Adam shook his head. "He forbad me from it. You know how he is."

Snow nodded. "Stubborn as fuck."

"Exactly," Adam said, sounding defeated. "Dr. Christie has tried prescribing him things to help, but nothing will stay down. Not even the meds." Adam looked helpless. "Truthfully, I think Quen just stopped fighting."

Unfortunately, that didn't surprise Snow. Quentin had always had a quiet sadness about him—like life had merely been an enormous disappointment. Money didn't buy happiness. It bought greedy people who only came around for a handout. The people Quentin saved loved him, but Snow knew Quentin understood that—once again—they were there because he had paid for them.

Snow stared at nothing. The idea of Quentin taking his last breath, thinking he was unloved, was the hardest pill Snow ever had to swallow. "I have to get back there to see him."

Adam nodded. "They'll call you first. I gave them your name as his husband. You're his power of attorney. Quentin wanted it that way."

Snow's head whipped Adam's way.

A sad smile passed over Adam's lips. "He's left nearly everything to you. You'll have some decisions to make."

Snow was so upset, he could barely see. Quentin knew Snow didn't want his money. But the power of attorney, that was different. They couldn't keep him away.

"You have blond roots. I always expected you would be a natural brunette for some reason."

Snow watched Adam touch Pink's pink tips.

Pink blushed. "They're only blond because I have to lighten the roots to get my hair to this shade of pink. It's a process."

Adam nodded. "That makes sense. I like the pink. It suits your personality."

Snow was oddly grateful for the normal conversation between them. Adam kept Pink calm by distracting him. Pink was doing so much better, but Snow worried how this would affect him. He had to think about how Pink would handle the situation. If he thought about himself, he would spiral. Snow didn't have the luxury of falling apart. His baby needed him, and Snow planned to will him back to life.