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First Chapter















The office was plain. Simple. A creamy paint, soft and elegant, used the sun rays to donate more light to the room and make it look less as a doctor’s office, no matter if big medical books filled the bookshelves and a white skull was looking straightly at him on the light brown oak desk.

Nothing seemed to have changed during the years and even doctor Cooper hadn’t changed much, though a little bit of white had managed to sweep through the black of the hair. But that warm light in his eyes, that reassurance that came right through the smile and features that made you instantly like him, respect him and put your life into his hands.

There had been so many doctors in his life, he remembered how each one of them had treated him: shivers and trembles still ran through his spine when echoes of his childhood came back, those days spent in hospital and those doctors that, in the mind of a five years old, had became monsters.

But not doctor Cooper.

Doctor Cooper had been one of the few that had treated him as a human being first, then as a patient: he could remember how he used to come into his room, during his two months staying, and would bring him comics or superheroes’ figure, telling how he could be one of them, how he could fight the evil that had insinuated within him and how he could let good win over it. He still had those comics somewhere, safely saved from the passing of time and the only few memories he let himself hold from that period, a time that he had never quite disclosed with no one else.

And, in the end, that was the reason why Brian had decided to keep coming back to doctor Cooper for his yearly check - up or whenever he needed to. Although it had been so long since he had sat down that chair, sat down in front of that desk and that man. He should have been there every year, just a mere check up to verify that everything was perfect and nothing more; in reality, it had been almost impossible to squeeze in that check up, even though his intentions had always been good: most of the times they were around the world, flying and performing to gain back a popularity that was reserved to younger and newer stars, and finding just one day to stop the world seemed so damn impossible.

Or, maybe, the truth was that it always slipped out his mind because there was nothing to actually be worried about. He felt great, healthier and fitter that he had ever been even though the clock of age ticked upward instead than backward: hours spent on stage, dancing and jumping from every height possible, drinking in the energy coming from the fans and fighting off the tiredness by reminding himself that he was still able to do it, that he still could win a basketball match against Nick, younger than him and yet never faster or quicker.

And that’s, probably, had been his first mistake. Believing his own body. Believing that rush of energy, believing that feeling of knowing he could push himself a little bit higher, a little bit further instead than slowing down and relax.

Hadn’t it done the same thing a couple of years before? Hadn’t his own body fed a lie while it was slowly crumpling over itself, self destroying while he had been at his peak? What a fool he had been, falling for it a second time! But that was how bodies worked, that was how sneaky they were, letting you believe something that wasn’t really the truth: they made you believe that everything was working perfectly, they made you believe you could climb mountains and () rivers while, at the same time, they were working on the inside to bring you down when you least expected.

He believed in his own body. He was feeling great and it really seemed that his energies would never wear off, because even those days left to relax and rest were filled with activities, jobs that needed to be done around a house maybe too big but a pride regardless. He had been feeling great, being even able to still eat whatever he liked without fearing about putting weight on, making Nick jealous and mad because he only needed to look at a cupcake to run at the first gym.

But the memories of the first time never faded away, turning and changing into alarming sirens at the first echo. It happened, of course, during another leg of the tour and, obviously, at the beginning so stopping everything was already out of question; it happened like it happened that first time, a tiredness and an exhaustion that set inside his bones and muscles and turned them into weights: it didn’t matter how many hours he would sleep, it didn’t matter if he’d tried to rest every time he got the chance, he’s still felt tired and that worrisome feeling that something wasn’t really right.

Yet, that same fear blocked him at first, making him running away from what looked like another battle to fight and win. He didn’t want to accept what those signs were telling him, brushing them off as something that it was just temporarily: soon he would feel better, soon he was going to go back at being that bundle of energies that made people shake their heads and calling him childish.

It didn’t happen, of course. It actually got worse, way worse than the first time. Chest pains soon joining the party, appearing always out of the blue and leaving with that gripping fear that made everything even more terrifying; dizziness and shortness of breath were just the late arrivers, joining hands with their other companions and turning that party into a never ending nightmare.

Brian remembered clearly and vividly the first time those signs came and knocked him down, leaving a trail of fear behind their backs. Logically it happened in the middle of a show, just after finished a song and in the hurry to go to the backstage and change for the next set; he could recall how everything kinda stopped being loud, how fans had stopped chanting and screaming and all the world around him had seemed to have gone under a numb blanket; darkness fell and, for a moment, he felt like he was falling, falling and falling into a pointless pit and there was nothing he could do to break his fall. And, the moment next, he was lying on the concrete, Nick’s concerned face looming in front of him and people shouting for a doctor to be called. He had tried to brush it off, just the sight of Nick’s worry was enough to wear his usual smile and make up some lie about hitting against one of the big screens.

Inside? Inside he was worried, more than usual. More than normal. Those fears, those worried thoughts, never stopped nagging him, biting every ounce of his soul until they became the only thing he could focus on. And history repeated itself because, even this time, Brian kept those worries to himself, his cracks safely hidden behind a tired smile. He didn’t know if someone noticed it, he didn’t notice if someone would linger a little bit longer while studying his face. He tried to brush off his tiredness, joking on how old age was finally catching up with him: Nick would laugh, make fun of him and, sometimes, a soft expression would appear in his eyes, a blue able to make Brian forget about his own problems and just…

… well, that was another matter that almost broke him, another matter that required energies that he didn’t have at the moment.

So that was, ultimately, the reason why Brian was sitting in that chair, facing a man that had grown older with the years but still looked and treated him as if he was one of his sons. He just wanted to get over with it, maybe getting reminded about how he wasn’t getting younger and how he should be really looked after himself and his health. He just wanted to stop that derailing train of thoughts that never left him alone, always nagging and nagging until, Brian was sure, he was going mad.

“What’s the final verdict, doc?” His voice got caught in the throat, fear and anxiety battling and fighting to come up and have the first row. His hands were shaking, fingers twisting and nails digging in the skin as if they could make more bearable the waiting.

The man closed his file, a light brown piece of paper that seemed too big to Brian, and took his glasses off. “I’m afraid I don’t have good news, Brian. Those symptoms, the result of your exams… they don’t make a good picture.”

“It’s my heart, right?” There was no need to circle around the point of the discussion. He already suspected it, he had already been afraid about what was going on inside his heart. What he needed was a solution, a cure so that he could go back to his life.

“Sadly no.”

“No? What do you mean? The chest pains…” Confusion was already written on his face, lines that frowned his forehead and fingers that got more nervous than just a couple of seconds before.

“It could be stress. You’re not getting younger. - It should have been a small j9ke, something to lift up the mood but Brian didn’t smile, those red lines became tighter and more forced. - I was concerned about that tiredness and how much weight you’ve lost. Not to mention those bruises that you didn’t even noticed. So we did more blood exams and I’m afraid I’m not bearing good news.”

“I feel fine. - Brian repeated, fiercely and with more determination. He felt fine, everyone had kept saying so too. He shook his head, trying to block all the more fear that was rapidly swallowing him up. He felt fine. - I always lose some weight when we are in tour. It’s always been like that. And the bruises… I jump everywhere. I never stand still. It’s…”

“Your exams show low levels of red blood cells, which can explain your feeling tired and your anemia. At the same time, though, your exams revealed a low level of white cells, dangerously and alarming low. And that’s why I want to do some more specific exams, including a bone marrow biopsy.”

“Biopsy?” Brian’s throat felt completely dry, as though as it became a desert. He couldn’t even wrap his mind around that simple word, which had been able to shatter his entire world. Even though he was sitting down, Brian felt like earth disappearing from under his feet, a black and deep void that soon would swallow him down.

“I know it sounds scaring but it’s best knowing sooner what we are dealing with instead than hiding our heads underneath the sand, right?”

“But… are you completely sure?” Brian couldn’t actually finish what he was about to say, the words lost as soon as they left his brain. How? How did it happen? Why? Why did it happen to him? It was still confusing, a part of him wasn’t even sure that he was having that conversation. Hadn’t he been already through enough? What more could he possible endure before enough was enough? Before his strength would raise its hands up and admit defeat? A nightmare. That was it. It was a nightmare, something that his mind had decided to build so to force him to go and take more care of himself and his health.

It had to be a nightmare.

“That’s why I want to do more exams. That’s why I want you to see a specialist and…”

The reassuring voice of the doctor slipped through Brian’s ears, bringing words such as specialist, planning those exams as soon as possible, giving him pamphlets and pages filled with information that his brain wasn’t ready to read, and understand, yet. He didn’t feel anything, he didn’t remember or notice anything more than that ringing sound inside his ears and that feeling that burned deep down inside, a desire to go out that door, that office, that building and go farther and farther, so far away that he wouldn’t be found by that horrible word.

Cancer. Leukemia. And a verdict that was still in the air though, at that moment, wasn’t that good and optimistic.  

Suddenly sun caressed his face, although its warmth slipped down unnoticed. Brian knew it was a warm sunny day but he couldn’t feel it on his skin, as if he had abruptly turned into an ice statue. Stone that could reflect that warmth, that could hold it on the surface but it never let it reach the heart.

That was how he felt in that moment.

Numb. Cold. Lost.

People passed by next to him, yet he didn’t notice them. They were ghosts, intangible being that seemed to float around him, all of them rushing through their own lives and their own worlds. How many of them knew what it felt like to have your whole life shattered down by one simple word? How many of them had walked his path, that road that seemed too high and challenging? People passed by and Brian wanted to stop them, to stop the world until he could figure out how to face this new battle, how to be strong because, right in that moment, strong was the latest thing he could think about himself.

He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. He wanted to be alone, safe and sound in a corner when nothing could touch him, when nothing and no one could reach and demand him to work the courage up to stand tall.

Why should he be?

What was he supposed to say to… everyone? How was he supposed to go back to his parents and tell them that all their prayers and all of their faith had been misplaced? How could he tell them that they were risking losing their youngest once again? Once had been enough, Brian still remembered that look on their faces when he had told them that his heart had worsened and that he needed surgery. This… This was even worse, bad enough that a part of his soul wanted to feed them a lie so that he could slip away without tears and without that disappointment because he hadn’t been able to stay healthy.

And then there was the group. Nick. Kevin. Aj. Howie. What was he supposed to say to them? “Sorry but I’m about to ruin our plans again. I didn’t mean to get cancer.” Dates had been already planned and saved since the year before, plans for recording were already in motion: the future was there, shining brightly and he was going to turn off the lights. Maybe forever.

The fans. The world. Just the mere thought of addressing that matter publicly was giving free reign to his anxiety, raising the bar so high that it almost gave him dizziness. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t. He didn’t want the pity, the sad looks and those words that, yes, were full of love and support but made him feel like he owned them to get better. To fight and win at any cost.

Yet Brian was still walking. Away from that office, away from that news that had shattered his world and his tranquility. He could walk until his feet would carry him, maybe so far away that, hopefully, people would forget all about him and he would be just a distant and faded memory: no one was going to be hurt that way, no one was going to feel cheated, betrayed as if Brian had intentionally decided to get sick and…

Brian walked and a part of him knew that he was only reacting at the brunt of the news. He wasn’t thinking rationally because logic didn’t belong to that moment. Brian knew that his mind was protecting himself from that storm of emotions that were ready to attack him and feed from him; once that shock would turn off and leave his mind, he would be able to pick himself up and face all his doctor had talked about. But, at that moment, he couldn’t think. He couldn’t feel. He couldn’t do anything but walk aimlessly among the streets, not really knowing where he was going or if he was going somewhere.

Home, maybe?

Home seemed the best idea. He could hide there. He could tell himself that it had all been a nightmare and then go back to his life, that real life, as if nothing had really happened. Hadn’t he already done it before? It didn’t work, that was sure. But, at least for a couple of weeks and months, he had managed to believe his own lie the more he told it to other people.

He didn’t want to be alone, though. He didn’t want to hide, he didn’t want to be left at the hands of demons and fears that were already waiting for him, their claws sharp and hunger for blood and soul. And his own body had had, probably, the same idea because his feet didn’t carry Brian home.

Not his own, at least.

Only when he was standing in front of that door, so different from his own, Brian realized where he had walked to. And, out of the blue, almost impossible as it may seem given his circumstances, a small smile managed to curve his lips.

It was something new. It was something atypical, yet, it did felt as something finally right, something that didn’t need not so many explanations or justifications. It was something new because it was the first time that Brian went there, the first time that he was the one needing comfort, a shoulder to lean on or to hide from that storm and turmoil raging within with his soul.

It was the first time that it happened, the first time he made it happen. Many times, in the past, Brian had felt the urge and need to go and find him every time he had felt lost, hurt or just desiring a hug from a friend. But he always had backed down at the last second, just a few moments before spilling out everything or making the last turn in his car: something had always stopped him, that part of himself that had always carried that duty to be a sort of protector,  Their roles had always been safe, they had always been that fixed point that had made them so perfect to become one the best friend of the other: changing them would have meant put everything out in the open, frail and trembling because it was a balance that they hadn’t tried before; changing, even just for one second, would have meant shuffling the cards and admitting that they needed each other more than they could say.

More than Brian was willing to admit, even to him.

He had always hidden that part of himself, even long before his road met and mixed with his: pity stares had always following him; worries and concerning words had always tried to smother him, or make him feel like he was about to break if he only pushed himself a little bit more than usual. That was why he had built so many walls around him, that steel appearance of someone who could endure any kind of pain with no help at all. But that had been a lie and, when he had found himself brought on his knees, he had suddenly realized that he needed someone else, he wanted someone else to take care of him and tell him how everything would turn out alright, but he didn’t quite know how to.

And now…

Now Brian was back at square one. His heart beating furiously, his breathing almost stolen away by anxiety and that dizziness that was trying to bring him down. Yet he resisted. Yet he closed his hand in a fist and rose against the door: if his life was going to break into a million pieces, if only a bunch a moments of time were all he had left, then he couldn’t waste them denying something that had been bound to happen for too many years. He wanted to be happy, as much as that beast inside him would let and allow him; he wanted to make someone else happy, giving him that ultimate gift and hoping it would be enough to be forgiven for all his past mistakes, for all those things he had never dared to say and all those touches he had never dared to bring to life.

Now Brian was knocking on what should have been always his house, because home could be only the place where heart could blossom and beat love. Home should have been that blonde face that finally appeared after what seemed like infinite seconds of silence, a puzzled look but a different light in his blue eyes.

Something finally burned into Brian’s heart, that something that had been beaten down by that news and had seemed destined to die in flames: hope. Brian felt hope raising its head, flames of strength being reinvigorated just by the sight of what happiness could be. Millions of what ifs still rang inside his head, fishes of doubts that wanted to warn him and make him turn away, because there was the possibility that it was just a castle built into his fantasy and imagination.    

But there was no more time to be caution. There was no more time to be afraid and wait for another right moment to appear in front of them. Brian needed to catch that one and hope it would be enough to win Nick over.

“Brian? What are you doing here?”

And the future, the sad and too cruel reality, could and had to wait for awhile.