AN: Here's chapter two, from Brian's POV this time, one of the nights he came to see Justin.

He moved in his sleep. His body thrashed from side to side, and I wondered how the movement didn't wake him up. Usually, he slept pretty soundly; calmly inhaling and exhaling steady breaths, one of those annoying half smiles playing on his quiet lips. Although 'usual,' as a term, was quickly becoming obsolete. Just a week or two ago, his 'usual' sleeping habits consisted of his utterly silent comatose existence. This was better. It wasn't good, but it was better.

"Excuse me?" a tiny person in scrubs approached me on the right. She barely came up to my shoulder. "Can I help you?"

"No," I said.

She sighed. "Are you visiting someone?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well," she said, "Visiting hours are over, so…"

I glanced at her quickly. She had red hair and freckles, which made her look young and lines under her eyes that made her look tired. Inexperienced and exhausted—I could handle this. "I have clearance to be here after hours."

"Really," she said, doubtfully. "Why's that?"

"I'm a very important person," I sighed. "Don't you have some kind of life saving mission to be attending to?"

"Not at the moment," she said. Justin shifted again in his sleep. I narrowed my eyes. The girl next to me looked at him. "You're a friend of Justin's?"

I felt cold when she said his name. After a moment, I turned to her to say, "You could say that."

"He's a great kid," she said, as if she knew. "It really sucks what happened to him, huh?"

I didn't answer, hoping she would take the hint. I just looked back at him sleeping.

She turned her body towards me, leaning up against the glass. "Hey, you're not, by any chance, Brian, are you?"

I just watched him.

"Thought so," she said. "I'm impressed. I was kind of expecting to be underwhelmed. He describes you like a god."

I watched him.

"You know," she said, "He really would like it if you came and saw him."

I shrugged. "I'm right here."

She smiled. "During the day," she clarified, "You know, when he can actually see you."

"No," I said automatically, ready with the words I'd rehearsed in my head countless times. "There's nothing I can do for him. It's better like this."

"There's nothing I can do for him," she said. "Not much the doctors can do. There's nothing his friends can do, nothing his Mom can do," she paused, "Definitely nothing his father can do." She turned her back to him and crossed her arms over her chest. "It's mostly up to him, now. He's gotta push himself to get better. And I'm sure a little encouragement from you would make his day."

"He's doing fine on his own," I countered. "He doesn't need me."

"They told him he'll never be able to draw again," she said, as if I didn't know. As if I hadn't been standing in this exact spot two nights ago when he didn't sleep a minute because he couldn't stop weeping. As if some other overhelpful nurse hadn't been hovering over me then telling me how much better he would feel if I had gone in there and told him, "There, there, Justin. Your hopes and dreams weren't that important to you, were they?"

"I know," I told her.

"And then his dad came in today," she said.

My mouth tensed, but I didn't say anything. Of course. Of course that fucker would take this opportunity to corner his son—he couldn't run away from him, here—he couldn't fight him—all he could do was sit there and hear it all. Fucker.

"Look," the girl said, "I know I don't know him all that well, and I know you even less, but it seems like he really cares about you, and from what he's said, you care about him, too." She turned back around to look at him thrash around. "And he thinks he's never going to see you again."

I shrugged. "It's better if he doesn't."

"Better for you or better for him?" she asked.

"For him," I said. My buzz was starting to wear off, and I wanted a cigarette. I took one last look at Justin's contorted nightmare face and turned to go.

The little redhead followed me. "Where are you going?"

"None of your fucking business," I said as I reached into my pocket for my pack of cigarettes and lighter.

"Hey, don't leave," she said. "I'm sorry if I was rude. I just want what's best for Justin."

"Of course. And how the fuck do you know what's best for him, huh?" I asked, placing a cigarette in between my lips. "You fucking civil servants and your helpful advice. Well, how about you take all your heartfelt concern and stick it up your ass?" I lit the cigarette and dared her to tell me not to smoke it in the hospital—or not to smoke it at all—I raised an eyebrow. Go ahead, bitch, mention cancer to me. Go ahead.

"Well," she said, nodding. "I can see where he gets his pessimistic attitude from."

I inhaled and let the fire fill my lungs, warming my chest and calming me instantly. With two fingers, I took it out so I could exhale and gave her a mock salute with my lit cigarette before turning on my heels and leaving the building.

AN: Thanks for reading! Review!