1. Tense Talk

He woke up to the arguing voices of his brother and his friend. Opening his eyes, he stared at them for a minute, annoyed. They clearly didn’t notice him and went on in their seemingly senseless debate about whatever. Ignoring the crazy spinning in his head, he got himself in an upright position and when that didn’t help to get their attention, he cleared his throat.

Nick and Harry turned around simultaneously and stared at him, startled.

“Oh hey, Brian,” Nick noticed lamely.

“Hey Nickolas,” Brian replied brusquely. “Mind explaining yourselves?”

“Oh it’s nothing,” his friend said quickly, “Harry just bet that the Buccaneers would never win it from the Falcons, right Harold?” Nick hastily poked the other man in his ribs.

“Ow! Yep, yeah, that is… what I said,” Harry drawled nervously and Brian watched him, suspicious. Finally he sighed and shook his head.

“And you couldn’t keep it down? I was kinda sleeping here,” he stated groggily. He couldn’t believe they woke him up over this.

“Just tell your brother that The Buccaneers totally own anybody’s asses, especially The Falcons’, and then we all get to sleep soundly tonight,” Nick declared and looked hopefully at his friend.

“Whatever,” was all Brian had to offer, standing up slowly, he looked them both in the eyes. “I’m going to get some water and painkillers, you guys just make sure you don’t kill each other over basketball,” he warned and stumbled out of the living room.

“It’s football!” he heard Nick yell after him.

“I don’t care,” he yelled back and smiled. Of course he knew it was football. Once he’d reached the sink, he opened the cabinet and searched through the bright collection of pills.  They came in all kinds of sizes and colours, and had the most unsown names. Brian didn’t need to pronounce them though, he only needed to know what they were for. He’d decided that as long as he could figure that out by himself, he didn’t need any help from outside. There were pills to prevent migraines, dizziness, nausea, seizures and hallucinations. He rummaged through them, trying to sort the ones he needed in a logical order. After taking a deep breath, he started swallowing the right ones and leaned back when he was finished. He could hear the voices of the other two rise in the living room again and closed his eyes, already feeling the headache forming. Concentrating, he tried to hear what was being said, wondering since when Harry had suddenly become interested in football.

“Tell him… even for sure… she do that… wait!” he heard his brother yell, clearly frustrated.

“… get away with this!” Nick shouted back angrily. Brian frowned, getting the nauseating feeling that they were lying to him.

“…not at all… none of your business.”

Straightening himself he walked to the door, deciding it was time to interfere.

June 2014

“You’re gonna be okay now?” he felt, rather than heard Baylee ask against his chest.

“I sure am, bud!” he assured his son and smiled. “You wanna sit on the bed?”

Baylee hesitated, and Brian could tell he was contemplating whether he was too old to climb in his father’s bed or not. Within a few seconds though, the kid had made up his mind and jumped rather roughly on the bed.

“Ouch!” Brian yelled and the child looked up, shocked.

“I’m sorry!” he apologized fearfully and Brian ruffled his short curls.

“Don’t be, I was just kidding,” he smiled. To be honest, he couldn’t feel anything from all the medication they were pumping into him. Sighing contently, he realized he hadn’t felt this good in a long time. If only he could manage to stay awake for longer than ten minutes, though.

October 2015

“You know, you two seem to get along very poorly these days,” Brian commented lightly on the two bickering men in the room.

“Well, we would get along if your brother would admit that the Buccaneers rule!” Nick stated fiercely.

“What is it with you and football?” Brian wondered, sitting down on the couch.

“Hey, you hurt the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, you hurt me,” Nick informed with a frown, glaring at Harry, who had once again a dumbfounded look on his face.

“I’m worried about you. You might be a little too fanatic,” Brian said, wondering if they were still talking about football, “If you two would just shut up now, basketball is on, a real sport.” He promptly turned on the television.

Nick scoffed and turned to Harry with a ‘I-just-saved-our-asses-again’ look. Harry stared back, irritated and went to sit next to his little brother.

“So, you, ummm, feeling better?” he asked uncertainly.

“Lots,” Brian replied curtly, having only attention for the game on TV.

“Wow, now I know why Leighanne complains about your short attention span so much,” Harry stated jokingly.

“She’s got nothing to complain about,” Nick mumbled angrily, making sure Brian didn’t hear him. Harry heard though and turned towards him with an angry glare.

“Shut up,” he mouthed. Nick pressed his lips together and glared back. The staring match went on until the phone rang.

“I’ll get it!” Nick announced and jumped towards the phone, before Harry could even move. Hoping it was AJ again, he introduced himself quickly, “Hey, it’s me!”

“Nick?”

“Oh, hi Leighanne,” he replied sourly and saw Harold’s eyes getting bigger. When Brian heard the name of his wife he looked up too, wondering why Leighanne would call if she was just shopping in the city.

“Oh yeah, he’s right here, seems to feel a lot better,” Nick chatted and Brian rolled his eyes. Just come to the point.

“Hold, slow down, you what?” Nick suddenly exclaimed, tearing the last bit of attention Brian had had for the basketball game away and focusing it on him and the phone.

“How on earth did you manage to do that?” Nick asked angrily, dodging Harold, who was desperately trying to get the phone out of his hands. Brian stared at the scene in front of him, not knowing what to make out of it. Is it just me, or are those two acting really strange?

“Well, he can’t have gone far now, can he?” Nick stated, unsure.

“Nickolas Carter! Give me that phone!” Harry yelled frustrated.

“Yes, I know Atlanta’s a big city! You should have watched him!” Nick growled into the horn. Brian flinched. The nauseating feeling he’d had all day was coming back full force as he realized what the conversation was about.

“Yes, alright… I’ll be right there… Wait! What car do I bring?” Nick asked suddenly.

“Nick!” Harry was almost jumping up and down now, trying to get the attention he needed.

“Not tell your husband?” Nick looked swiftly at Brian, “You’re a bit too late for that, I think he already knows,” he informed her.

“I can’t bring my car! We had a… minor incident on the way back…” Brian tore his gaze away and looked at the ground, embarrassed.

“No, nothing I couldn’t handle,” Nick stated proudly. “Never mind, alright? I’ll just take Brian’s car. Wait, is that an automat?” he asked hopefully, looking at his friend. Brian shook his head dismissively.

“Fuck! What is it with you and antique cars? Why can’t you drive automatic transmissions, like all Americans?” Nick exclaimed frustratingly, not realizing he was still on the phone. “No, not to you! I… no… never mind… I’ll be right there… yeah… bye.” When he finally hung up the telephone, he found two pair of curious blue eyes staring a hole right through him.

“I gotta go, she lost Baylee somewhere in the city,” he stated hatefully.

“Take me with you,” Harold ordered sternly.

“Me too,” Brian said, not leaving room for discussion.

“Oh no, I don’t want you puking all over the car again,” Nick reminded him abruptly.

“Ha! As if you have never thrown up in a car!” Brian challenged.

“I don’t see what that has to do with anything!” Nick defended.

“I just had chemotherapy, what’s your excuse?”

“Err, alcohol?” Nick answered defeated.

“I’m coming with you guys,” Brian stated.

“I’d rather you stay here,” Harry tried.

“It wasn’t a question.” Brian looked like he could blow the two taller men off their feet with only the stubborn gaze in his eyes.

“You, you sure?” Nick stammered.

“You can’t stop me. He’s my son. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same if you were me.” End of discussion. Nick cursed Brian’s stubborn attitude, but finally relented.

“Alright, but I can’t drive your freaking car,” he informed his friend.

“That’s okay, I’ll help you, you dimwit.”