This fic was inspired by the song "Heavy In Your Arms" by Florence And The Machine. The characters arent's mine, and I do not make any money out of this. I am in no way connected to anyone that has worked on Queer As Folk. This is purely out of my imagination.

Heavy In Your Arms

Justin never really thought about the actual sheer size of the loft before. Since he'd seen it the first time, he'd gone through different phases: The Cool Loft Phase, The Brian and Justin Loft Phase, The Refuge Phase, The Home Phase... well, every other week he got a new way of thinking about the place. One time he'd thought it felt small, like before he left Brian for Ethan. The pink elephant in the room had really made the place feel cramped.

But now, the loft had never felt so big. He was sitting with his back against the bathroom wall, only a towel under his butt to cushion himself from the hard floor. The loft outside the bathroom was dark and completely silent. There wasn't even the usual buzz of Brian's computer in the air, or the light from his own drawing table.

He sighed and willed the ache in his back and legs to go away, and turned his eyes back down. Brian was stretched out on the floor next to him, his head resting in Justin's lap on one of the light pillows that usually decorated the couch. He was breathing heavily, sleeping fitfully.

Justin was glad that Brian had finally managed to fall asleep, even if it was on the floor next to the toilet. He had gone through another round of radiation that morning. Justin had a day off, and had made it clear to Brian that he could try whatever, but it wouldn't work. He was going stay here and make sure Brian was okay.

Around one p.m. Brian had started feeling queasy and feel the burning pain that always seemed to strike him badly after treatment. Justin hadn't made Brian aware that he noticed, but his eyes couldn't help but snap up from the paper and find Brian at every pained sigh, and ever ill-concealed grunt.

And then an hour later, Brian had started going to the bathroom to throw up. Justin left him alone still, because he knew that if he went into the bathroom and fussed over Brian, he'd only get more stressed and agonized. That was no way to handle Brian at this point. He would react just like a stressed animal- he'd pull away into a shell and wouldn't come out for a few days.

But when Brian had been in there for an hour and a half straight and it wasn't letting up, Justin decided he couldn't stay put any longer.

He got a pack of water bottles from the fridge, a can of high sugar energy drink, and a few towels and went into the bathroom.

Brian was too exhausted to fight him, and he handed him the water:

"I know you don't want this right now, but you need something to throw up."

Brian had taken small sips of water, every single one seeming to cause him severe waves of nausea.

In the pauses between retches, when Brian was going on the adrenaline in his system alone, Justin fed him tablespoons of the energy drink:

"Come on, you need the sugar. You don't want to crash on top of this."

Brian drank the liquid gathered in the spoon, and it probably hadn't even reached his stomach before it turned and Brian threw himself over the toilet again.

One of his hands was resting on Brian's hair, and every now and then he rubbed his thumb soothingly over his scalp. The other hand was resting on the bicep of Brian's left arm, which was stretched out, hand gently curled around Justin's body, using him as the steady point keeping him grounded.

Justin squeezed his arm gently as Brian coughed, his body curling up on the tiles. Justin prayed that Brian wouldn't have to wake up only to vomit again.

Brian's eyes fluttered open, and he groaned, low in his chest.

"Do you need to throw up again?" Justin asked, his body tensing in anticipation of having to hoist Brian's whole weight up with only his arms, in a split second, and over the toilet. Brian was too exhausted to get up himself.

"No." Brian finally sighed. There was a long moment of silence, and just when he started to wonder if Brian had fallen asleep again, when Brian suddenly spoke:

"I need to get to bed."

His voice was so small and weak that Justin's teeth hurt. Because if he knew Brian half as well as he thought he did, he knew that this was killing his partner. In more ways than one.

"Can you sit?"

Brian hummed, and Justin slowly helped him sit up. Brian grimaced, and Justin found himself rubbing the back of his neck:

"Come on, just a little more..." When Brian was sitting on his own, Justin got up and reached down:

"Don't fight me. I'm gonna help you stand."

Brian grabbed his outstretched hand without questioning, and Justin wrapped his free arm around the other man's back, hooking his hand under his armpit. With great struggle, Brian slowly stood, and Justin's throat closed up painfully when he practically had to lift his partner from the floor because he was too exhausted to do it himself.

One small step at a time, they walked out of the bathroom and the short distance to the bed. When they were finally there, Brian fell onto the bed grimacing badly, probably from the pain in his lower body.

Justin decided to let the wife beater Brian had on, stay on for now. But when he reached for Brian's sweat pants, Brian suddenly reached out and grabbed his hand:

"Don't..."

Justin swallowed around the painful tightness in his throat again, and then said:

"I'm sorry, Brian, but you have to take them off. You'll get too hot if you keep them on."

Brian struggled, fighting him weakly as he peeled the pants off of him. Justin wasn't sure Brian would remember this in the morning, or if he was even really conscious of anything at the moment besides the hellish prison of his body.

He put the trash bin right next to Brian's side of the bed, close enough so that he could just roll over and let it out if he had to. Then he stripped out of his own clothes and lay down next to Brian, scooting up closer to him and slinging an arm around Brian's waist. Brian rolled his weight back against him, and Justin held him tightly. Brian was so heavy in his arms, not holding himself up one bit.

He wasn't sure that Brian was aware, but his breathing was very shallow, and every time he breathed out a small groan would slip out along with his breath. Justin let a thumb wipe away the tears that Brian didn't know was wetting his cheeks. For Brian's own sake, Justin was happy that the man wouldn't remember any of this in the morning. He was too far gone; this would just seem like a nightmare, one of many that would haunt him all night because he was too exhausted and his body was under too much stress to allow him to sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. Come morning, the delirium would be all-consuming and Brian wouldn't be able to say his own name if his life depended on it.

Justin reached up and wiped his own tears away, cradling Brian against his chest.

Brian was so heavy in his arms.

So, there might be a few spelling mistakes and grammatic errors in there, but I hope it didn't take away from what I was trying to convey.

R & R please, if you have a moment. Reviews are really great to get! :)

/CMS