It's no longer World AIDS Day, but I was inspired to continue telling this story. It's dedicated to someone I used to know. (: I don't know when this will be updated next, but it will eventually. Hope everyone's doing okay. :3 This was beta'd by the great and amazing Ziggy Pasta, btw. (:

Also, Friends in Deed is a real life organization, and Cynthia is a real person. Please visit friendsindeed . org (minus the spaces!) For more information.

-Look I find some of what you teach, suspect. Because I'm used to relying on intelect, but I try to open up to what I don't know-
-No Day But Today-

Reno really didn't want to go. He would have rather eaten a deep fried piece of dog shit. This was degrading. It was trivial. He didn't need it. He could get through on his own. Yet somehow, he had ended up in his jacket, Yazoo's scarf tossed around his neck a few times, walking down the street towards the one place he had nearly outright refused to go.

Yazoo had his hand wrapped around his own fingerless gloved ones. The hand was applying pressure, but never too much. Just enough to tell him that he wasn't alone.

"What the fuck is this, yo?" Reno asked, determined to stay negative as they continued down the street.

"It's rice pudding." The silver-haired man beside him replied, staring impassively ahead.

"Looks like fuckin shit..." The redheaded man pouted, looking at the cup Yazoo had pulled from the cupboard before they left. It was jiggly and white, smelling not exactly like rice, but not exactly like pudding. Reno wasn't sure how to feel about the strange concoction, so instead of eating it, he dropped the unopened cup onto the dirty blanket of a sleeping homeless person. "Shoulda brought some cherries or something, yo."

Yazoo rolled his eyes, swinging their hands between them. "Maybe on the way home we'll pick up some cherries for you... but that's only if you're a good boy."

Pfft. What did being a good boy even mean? Probably sitting in the circle, acting like he cared while other people spoke, and telling his own story. Like hell that was going to happen. He was only going for Yazoo's sake. The silver-haired man thought it would be good for the both of them, to find other people that were going through the same thing.

But how would that help? What good would it do to meet other people who were dying? Yeah, they could pool a bet to see who would be the first to die, last one standing wouldn't have to bring cupcakes to the meeting. That was the end of that. It wasn't going to fucking help. In fact, it'd probably make things worse, Reno decided.

But they arrived in front of the community center, the heavy maroon doors spray painted with graffiti. On it's own it looked rather depressing, the hallway lights weren't turned on, the walls were covered in projects done by children from a random school.

"So, where the fuck is this thing, then?" Reno asked, purposely walking with a slow step, his feet sloshing around in his unlaced boots.

"Well, if you listened when I'm speaking, you'll know that I -just said it was in the room at the very end of the corridor," Yazoo said, his voice neither testy or impatient, but rather, teasing. The redhead couldn't help it if he was lost in his thoughts. He was dying. He could die within a year. He was sorry that he couldn't be a little more reactive.

"Yeah..." Reno distracted himself again with the kindergarten artwork decorating the halls as Yazoo firmed his hold on his hand, leading him towards the door, a light from inside weakly illuminating the hall.

The redhead found himself face to face with another maroon door, a dusty window in the middle of it, a red construction paper below it with the words 'Friends in Deed' printed across it in Comic Sans font. He couldn't help but allow a pitiful snort to escape him. Well, time to take that leap.

The door was pushed open with a little more aggressiveness than was necessary, but Reno didn't care. In front of him, situated in a small circle, was a group of plastic chairs. Some occupied, others not. There was a small table to the right of them, an orange tub of watereddown juice beside a portable coffee machine and a stack of Styrofoam cups. The sight alone made Reno rage. How the hell had he been lowered to those damn AA meeting commercials he had seen on tv?

A woman sitting in one of the plastic chairs rose as they entered, her red lipstick covered lips spreading into what Reno guessed was a loving smile. Her skin was white and pale, her brown hair now fading into a sort of steely purple grey. Crow's-feet bunched around her eyes as she grinned, and Reno was sure she was far younger than she looked.

"Hello, welcome to Friends in Deed..." she greeted them, her voice soft but slightly raspy. Reno liked it. She had probably smoked one too many cigarettes in her life. "I'm Cynthia O'Neal, President and Facilitator... You are...?"

Reno was avoiding making eye contact as he had suddenly become very interested with a piece of dust that was dancing lazily on the floor by his foot. Knowing Yazoo as well as he did, however, the silver-haired man was probably looking right back at the woman, and probably smiling like she was.

"Yazoo Beta, Reno Sinclair. I talked with one of your volunteers on the phone the other night." Yazoo's voice was surprisingly strong and friendly. Or rather, as friendly as that voice could really get.

"Right... Well, we welcome everyone. I thank you for being early. The meeting will begin shortly." Cynthia smiled and gestured to the table of drinks, as Reno was sure she did for everyone. "Help yourself."

Reno heard the Yazoo give the woman a thank you, and Cynthia turned to talk with another attendant, leaving them to their own bidding. The redhead made a beeline for the drinks. Sure, the coffee was probably going to taste like shit, and the cookies were probably three weeks old, but he hadn't eaten that rice pudding. Reno was going to stuff his face.

However, the pessimism didn't last long, or at least, the pessimism directed at the food. The coffee did taste like coffee, and a small woman, who looked only around twenty, told them that she was here battling cancer, and that she had made the cookies the night before as a thank you to Cynthia and the rest of the people attending. Reno scowled at the gingersnaps as he bit aggressively into one, trying to take his stress out on it and not on the stupid fucking dollar-store wall decorations.

Slowly, more people flooded in, and Reno was forced to retreat to one of the orange plastic chairs, sitting beside Yazoo with a cup of coffee in his hand. Some people he recognized, regulars at the diner Yazoo worked at, or people like Angel with his – her? – significant other, Collins, who most people in the gay community were familiar with. Again the drag queen gave him a pinky wave, and what Reno guessed was supposed to be a reassuring smile, but he just frowned back.

"Alright, let's begin," Cynthia said, leaning over her knees, hands clasped together. "We'll go around introducing ourselves." She cleared her throat, scanned the room, and said very confidently, "Hello, My name is Cynthia. I started Friends in Deed after I lost my husband to cancer." She turned and faced the person beside her, and slowly, people announced their names, some saying a bit more about why they were here, others almost as scared as Reno was.

"Rod."

"Pam."

"Sue."

"Tanjuu."

"Gordon."

"Angel."

"Tom – Collins."

Yazoo cleared his own throat and tucked a bit of hair behind his ear. "Yazoo."

It was Reno's turn now. He wondered how saying such a simple thing – his name, of all things – could be so difficult. He swallowed and looked at all the people, who were looking back at him, and muttered, "Reno, yo."

And the line continued on. Reno's eyes fell down to the cup, taking a sip of the unsweetened drink. A few more names were said, and then they arrived back at Cynthia, who still had that damn smile on her lips.

"Alright, who would like to go first?" she asked, her eyes landing on Reno as if he would willingly throw his heart at her.

Instead, a man a few seats away from Reno put his hand up, his eyes scared. "Well, yesterday, I found out my T-cells are low."

"What was your reaction?" Cynthia seemed to zone in completely on him – Gordon, that was his name – as if they were together alone.

Gordon shrugged, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Scared..."

"How do you feel, right now, this moment?" she asked him, smiling again.

His reaction started out slow, as he seemed to feel inside of him for his emotions. "Fine..." he said, nodding. "Good... It's the best I've felt in a long time."

"So, why choose fear?"

But it seemed he couldn't feel out an explanation inside of him for that, and shrugged, ending his short talk.

Cynthia scanned the group again and Reno kept his head down. He felt sorry for the people here, but he had his own freaking problems to deal with, and having them sit there sitting together and talking about how much it sucked wasn't going to help him. He jutted his lip out in an annoyed pout, and waited for the next person to start blabbing.

"I'm afraid."

Reno's ears perked up, and he turned his head slowly, finding that it was Yazoo who had started speaking.

"I'm afraid for him." Reno knew that Yazoo was speaking about him. "He is very important to me, and he knows that. I'm just worried I can't do enough for him. Or if I do too much, will I be mothering him?" It seemed Cynthia was dishing out another one-on-one with Yazoo, her eyes locked on his, never wavering. "I don't want him to go. But I don't want him to hurt. But he is hurting, whether he tells me he is or not."

It seemed people were relating with Yazoo's confession, as murmurs had broken out in the circle. There were probably sympathetic looks being directed at the silver-haired man, but Reno couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from his now nearly empty coffee mug to check.

"And..." Yazoo had a slight pink hue on his cheek bones. "Do we have to stop being intimate? I don't want to contract the virus, but at the same time..." He trailed off, his gaze falling into his lap.

Another one of the attendants spoke, Tanjuu. His voice was deep and husky, like he had been pulled from a dark mob movie. His hair was almost as odd as Reno's; a side of it was braided into cornrows, all hair slicked back except for a large mop of it that fell over his eye. "You ain't got nuffin' to worry about there, bud," he said, nodding. "You jus' gotta be careful, yeah? Real careful."

Well that wasn't awkward at all.

And so the meeting went on. Reno sat quietly as he had before, chewing the inside of his lip. It wasn't that he didn't want to speak now – Yazoo had, he could too – he just... didn't know what to say. "I feel like my world is ending. I wanna punch a kid in the face. I wish it hadn't been me. I wanna know how long I have left. I wish I wasn't such a fuck up." None of those would work. He sounded like a goddamn baby.

And then, he felt a pair of eyes land on him. He looked up through his messy bangs and saw Cynthia, smiling at him. "Reno," she said. "Are you angry?"

Reno's face blanked. Were they allowed to call people out like that?

"Yes," he said, squeezing the Styrofoam cup flat. "I'm fucking pissed as hell."

"Why? Is it because you had to come here today?"

Reno frowned. Was it really? He kept attacking everything in his mind. The shitty maroon doors, the uncomfortable chairs, the coffee, the damn smile Cynthia was wearing... But were those actually the problems? "No."

"So, why are you angry? What are you angry about?"

"I don't fucking know." His voice was becoming a little more annoyed. "I feel like I can't control anything in my life. Like I've screwed myself over too many times, and now this is how I'm punished. Like I'm the fuckin' disease. Fuckin' bullshit, yo."

Cynthia just kept smiling, and suddenly that smile didn't seem so bad anymore. "We all feel that way in the beginning. When did you find out you had AIDS?"

"Two months ago."

"Well, do you feel different? Sick?"

What was the point in a question like that? It didn't matter if he wasn't shaking, or if he had a fever. He was still a sick person. His body was still poisoned, whether he was feeling sick or not. "I guess not, yo," he said, his eyebrows furrowing at his answer. He felt... normal, for the most part.

"Well, why let it bother you?" Cynthia asked him, straightening her back. "You are not your disease. Go on living your life. It may be hard, like you're climbing a mountain. It will be like that for a very long time. But you're a normal person, don't let this sickness affect your life."

–

The meeting had ended an hour ago. Reno had left, after enjoying the coffee and gingersnaps. His pocket now held three numbers – Cy's – she had insisted he call her that – Tanjuu's, and Angel's. All of whom insisted they would call and chat. In his hand was a cup of cherry sherbet, and across from him was Yazoo, who was lazily licking his own sherbet. Who knew, maybe everything would be okay...

-NotsoFin-