Chapter Text
Clay counts down until graduation, and each day that passes by, the hopes of Justin accompanying him slowly die. Now, there is basically no chance of Justin getting in a graduation gown. The longer, which the pnuemonia lasted, the more problems it seemed to attract. Fungal meningitis had sentenced Justin to his fate, it seemed. The worst thing was, it didn't have to. Yet Justin's choice and what he wished for, it had restricted the hospitals steps to heal him. Justin had signed up for it, and even though Clay couldn't express it, deep down he was fighting back the anger he felt for Justin's quick decision to give up.
Justin's hand is clammy, and his fingers twitch every once in a while. Clay wishes that Justin says something, but it appears that he's dozing off. Unless this is where it begins to go down, much faster than Clay is ready for. He doesn't think he will ever be prepared for Justin's final heartbeat. It's only hour number three since the nurses had rather gruesomely pulled out the ventilator from Justin's oseophagus. Clay can still remember Justin's discomfort when the pipe was removed, or how he coughed out bloody mucus.
Now, all Clay can hear is Justin's raspy breathing. It scares him, and to think that sooner or later Justin's breathing will worsen until it stops completely. The oxygen noted on the monitor remains the same as it had been when they removed the machine. Clay doesn't search for a speck of hope, or an idea that maybe it's a good sign. There's no point. He's already wrapping his head around the fact that life is stealing away the only person he truly loves and cares about. He's not happy with it, but he can't find the strength to even let a tear loose. Clay's numb to all emotions; it's the best way to deal with losing Justin, or else, he's going to be hit with reality.
He doesn't hear the door slide open. Clay hasn't moved from the chair in hours, and ever since they've been counting down each hour that Justin's still alive, he hasn't left his side. Three hours have felt like forever, but no matter how long they could wait, it only aches more. Clay turns away from where he has been staring at Justin's resting face as he slept. He already looks dead. Maybe it's better for Clay to look away. He can't stand it any longer.
Clay barely acknowledges Jessica, who nervously walks towards the hospital bed. She is visibly devastated, having been so ever since Justin's condition went downhill. The fear of losing him has become real, and it had been a fear, which they would shrug aside as something that would never actually happen. Never have they prepared for this.
"Hey," Clay doesn't put much effort in a smile, he barely even smirks. His shoulders fall in defeat, and Jessica acknowledges his setback.
"How is he?" Jessica asks, like if she already knows it's bad news. They can't exactly expect anything more better than that, yet the lack of improvement still being disappointed. It seems as if, despite not hanging onto any hope, they are still disheartened.
"He's asleep, but he's okay... for now," Clay tells her, his head hangs low. He can't seem to make eye contact with Jess. He knows how much Justin means to her, and it must be difficult for her to even be here still. Clay cleared his throat, which he took a deep breath. "I thought... I thought you would've left by now."
"I don't know, I just thought that maybe I'd still manage to see him," Jessica explains, which she looks down at her lap. Clay looks at her. He could tell she hadn't slept in days, hair unbrushed and she is still in the same sweater she had been in for days now. Jessica is anxiously tugging at the loose threads.
"The doctors think it might take a few more hours before..." Clay doesn't finish the sentence. He's not sure he can bring himself to. He can just imagine what it might be like for Justin, because already, he is struggling with his sick lungs and to think that soon enough, he wouldn't produce enough oxygen; it was terrifying. The idea of sitting there and doing nothing, Clay could barely hold himself together, squeezing Justin's hand.
"How's your mom and dad?" Jessica questions. She had seen Mrs Jensen making a phonecall outside the ward, visibly troubled by the situation. It was all of them against this cruel disease, which was taking Justin away from all of them.
"Fine, I guess, they don't say much but you know, they love him," Clay shrugs. He knows they love Justin, he has seen their devastation. The nights they spent talking to Justin, comforting him while he was under the ventilator, Clay knows that Justin is leaving all of them behind.
"We all do," Jessica brings to light, reflecting as she looks at Clay with a sad smile on her face. "I'm going to miss him so much."
"Me too," Clay tells her glumly, looking down at where Justin's hand continues to rest in his own. The skin is rough and Clay stares at the purple band, where DNR is printed in bold.
"I don't know if I can sit here through the whole thing," Jessica admits, lip chewing at the thread as the sleeve catches the tear rolling down his cheek.
"I understand if you don't," Clay mutters, his eyes remain glued to the tiled floor beneath their feet. Jessica lets out a shaking sob, and Clay can feel a punch of guilt in his gut. There is nothing he can possibly say to easen the situation.
Clay hesitantly puts a hand on Jessica's shoulder. He has never had to comfort her before, a lot of time in the hospital, they have had more conversations than they have ever had before. The worst possible scenario has brought them together.
"I'm sorry," Clay says, feeling absolutely useless, and whatever he might say feels stupid.
"It's okay, it's not... you don't have anything to be sorry for," Jessica wipes a tear away with her thumb, which she shakes her head. She looks up at where Justin's resting, his face is relaxed yet there is something in his look that makes him seem troubled. He might be able to hear her, and it's the last thing Jess wants. She doesn't want to make Justin feel bad in any way possible. "It's just hard, you know."
"Yeah," Clay can feel Justin's hand start to feel like a permanent part of his own, like if it had melted into his.
"It's too hard to say goodbye," Jessica says, which she wipes at another tear. Prom is still a raw memory, when Justin had promised to hold her and never let go. Could they have ever expected what had happened? "But will you make sure to text me afterwards?"
"Yeah, sure," Clay tells her.
Jessica raises from her seat, which Clay observed as she moves towards Justin. She looks at his face with a tearful smile. He's too drowsy to speak, his eyes are barely open a crack. She rests her hands on his cheek, which Justin lets his head slowly fall to it's side. He knows Jessica is there, she could see him sadly smiling as his fingers stroke at her forearm.
She kisses his forehead, and Justin's hand lightly plays with Jessica's hair whilst she pulls away. "I love you."
"You too," Justin whispers, which Clay watches his hand weakly reaching for Jess as she walks away. He squeezes Justin's hand.
"Just make sure to text me, okay?" Jessica sniffs as she turns to Clay. She can't miss Justin's hour of death. And maybe it would be best for her not to know, but it seems unavoidable. Every day, at the same hour, it would be the same thought.
Justin died at this time.
"I will, I promise," Clay swears as he gets up to follow Jess to the door. He could hear Justin's weak movement in his bed, clearly unhappy with Clay's hand being torn away from his. Clay knows Justin feels alone right now. He knows he has to go back, to hold his hand.
Jessica hugs Clay, who doesn't pull away, sinking into her envelope. He wishes to call it comforting, but all the badness comes bouncing back the second Jessica tears their hug.
Soon enough, Jessica leaves the room, disappearing from the ward as Clay stands there. It was almost as if he doesn't know what to do now as he waits for his parents to come back in the room. They are obviously still giving him a moment alone with Justin.
Clay turns back to the bed, where Justin's looking at him longingly. Clay goes back to his original seat, which he catches Justin's hand, which is quick to try and reconcile with Clay's.
"I'm here, I'm right here, okay?"
In the next twenty-four hours, they can expect it. Well, up to twenty hours now that it has been four hours since the nurses have taken Justin off of the ventilator. It doesn't sound any better to Clay, who looks out through the glass door from where he is seated. His parents are standing outside with the doctor, a grave yet sympathetic look on the woman's face. His parents' faces on the other hand, are no different from when they reluctantly agreed that it was the right time to take Justin off of the machine.
Clay is disappointed. Well, he hasn't exactly expected anything better, but deep down, he prays for a miracle. He prays that just maybe, Justin keeps on breathing. But what are the possibilities of that? Clay can see that the oxygen levels on the monitor have no drastic difference but he can also see Justin's struggle as he heaves air. The way his brother's chest rises and falls, Clay knows that the chances of Justin turning back from this are low.
Matt and Lainie come into the room, they haven't talked long with the doctor but Clay can tell it's still something grievous. Can it ever not be? Clay's shoulders drop as he looks back at Justin, who hasn't really moved much. He is clearly saving the energy for breathing. To be honest, Clay wishes that this doesn't last long. He can't stand the agonizing hours of waiting and hoping for a miracle to come and salvage his brother.
Clay looks at his brother's face. He sees the tears in Justin's eyes, like delicate glass, as he stares out of the see through doors where Matt and Lainie have talked with doctor only a few minutes ago. Justin knows what the doctors are saying, he knows how the Jensens are taking it. He hates it. It only pushes him more, as he hopes for the lack of air to take him soon. He can't seem to stand them circling his bed, he could physically feel their pain.
He hates it.
Clay squeezed his hand. He could hear Justin's breathing being manipulated by his emotions. Clay doesn't know what Justin's feeling, but he can see the absolute despondency on his brother's face. He knows Justin doesn't want this to last long either. Yet this entire time, Clay can't help but wonder why Justin wants this. Surely, there could have been some easy way to help him. People don't usually die of these stuff, right? At least, not so easily, surely.
"What did the doctor say?" Clay doesn't look up at his parents. His voice sounds unnatural in the silence, and Clay has spent a long time hesitating before he even stated the question.
Lainie sighs, glancing over at her oldest son while her youngest listens from where he lays in the hospital bed. Ever since they knew Justin, he is like a son to them. The entire adoption process has brought them closer than ever. Justin may not be a son by blood, but for Matt and Lainie, it's like if they have known the boy for his entire life in just the span of a year. They should have had longer. It isn't fair, and all three of them know that.
"It can take up to twenty four hours since they took him off the ventilator," Matt tells Clay, since Lainie doesn't bring herself to even speak.
"Twenty-four?" Clay echoes. He can't imagine the idea of waiting that long. Because who knows? Maybe Justin has stronger lungs than they think, and he lasts a whole day before they finally give in. He looks at Justin, he's struggling. Clay doesn't want to be happy at the thought that maybe it will last shorter, but at this point, he is ready for goodbye. He has been reluctantly prepsring for it ever since they found out that Justin's life depends on the ventilator. He wants to get it over with, he wants to make his last goodbye as worthy as it can be for the year, in which he had been dependent on Justin with his own life. He can't live without him, he knows that. Goodbye isn't going to be easy, and Clay starts to rethink it. He does not know how to say his farewell to Justin without feeling that something is missing.
Clay looks at his father, who rests a hand on his son's shoulder. Nothing brings comfort. Justin sucks it away with every chance he had, because he has the potential of sucking away all the good in one's life because of his absence. Clay doesn't want to be angry, he doesn't want to accuse Justin of being selfish. He has tried putting himself in his brother's shoes, and obviously, it's something he can't bring himself to even imagine. Because his life is different from Justin's. Although, it didn't have to have been so different if maybe they had good relations for longer throughout their lives.
It was an often thought. What would have their lives come to if, for example, Justin was adopted by Clay's parents when he was barely a teenager? It always had Clay's mind working during the boring days, when everything was the same each every day. He would think about the chances, he would imagine Justin and him; what interactions they would have; the room they'd share; the bond they would form. They would have been brother's for longer. And maybe, Justin wouldn't have felt the need to not get tested. Maybe he wouldn't even have gotten the disease in the first place.
But when Clay looks at his brother now, it feels as if the last year had become the definition of false hope. Life has been improving, despite Clay's mental health having been frail. Justin simply being around, it has always been some sort of barrier for Clay, which stops him from completely losing his mind. Justin has always been the person he needed his entire life. He was the brother Clay had been asking for when he was a child, when he would beg his parents for a little companion to play with. Now, it isn't someone he can play with, but share his darkest secrets and wouldn't be judged. Justin makes him feel less alone in life because he knows, that no matter what he does, Justin would take a bullet for him. Clay would do the same.
Despite knowing what he would do for Justin, he still feels let down by himself. There should be something he could have done to save Justin, instead of sitting here and let Justin choose to die instead of getting saved, which could be easily done with medication. It's 2019, there is medication for these kind of things. There are treatments. And why wasn't Justin choosing a way out? Death isn't a way out. Maybe for Justin, but not for them. What about them? Has Justin thought about the fact that they love him? They don't want to lose him.
"Did they say anything else?" Clay asks, still praying that by some chance, they weren't going to have to sit here and watch Justin go. Matt and Lainie don't know what to say, Clay can see it in their disappointed faces. His shoulders drop, but nothing makes him let go of Justin's hand, which still squeezes his from time to time.
But no matter how much Clay could wish for a different ending, he knows he doesn't have much of a choice but to accept this reality, no matter how hard he tries to escape it.
"Oh you look fucking hot, dude," Clay hears Justin say with a snicker. He rolls his eyes, turning to look back at where Justin's laying in bed with his phone, and it's very likely that he is sneakily capturing a picture. Clay sighs, which he turns to face where Justin looks very tired. "How come you don't have a date?"
"Dude, you're the one always calling me gay yet you're the one calling me hot," Clay brings to light, which doesn't diminish Justin's smugness. It's clear that Justin is having a great time getting on Clay's nerves. His laughing turns into a coughing fit, which causes Clay to feel his heart thud with grave concern. Was this normal? "Dude..."
"Yeah, yeah, it's gay because I gave you a compliment," Justin mocked, which he sat up. "I had no intention, so it's not me who has that way of thinking, is it?"
"Whatever, Justin," Clay huffs, which he shakes his head in disapproval of Justin's comments. Sometimes he wonders how Justin can possibly get so close to being hunted down by the cancel culture of today's society, if he hasn't been already. He was clearly luring another round. "You should try on yours, you bought it with the rest of your money from your last paycheck."
"Eh, it's not like I'm going," Justin mutters, hugging the covers as he stares at Clay, who swears Justin is going to make another remark. He knows it hurts Justin to have wasted money on the suit. Clay still remembers the day they went out to buy it. Justin was ill but still capable of leaving the house. They spent hours picking something out, Justin complaining that Clay is too fussy until Justin couldn't bring himself to decide. It had been Clay's job to help choose what would look nice on him, and Justin had complimented his choice. The shopping had been a success, yet Justin had passed out the second he laid down in his bed when they came home.
"Dude, you have to come," Clay insists. They haven't bought him a suit for nothing. He thought that maybe Justin would feel better after a few days.
"It's ages from now, Clay, do we have to talk about it?" Justin lays on his side, curled up and trying to rest his eyes as another round of coughing took over. Clay remained worried. This wasn't withdrawal now, it is more than that.
"Jesus, Justin, go to a doctor or something," Clay starts, failing not to sound frustrated. He knows Justin will refuse, and deny that it's anything serious. Clay has spent two weeks witnessing Justin going back and forth between hot flashes and cold ones, running fevers and suffering sore throats.
"I don't need to see a doctor, it'll go away in like a week," Justin assures, the same way he had a week ago. But it's still the same, if not worse. It's a weird cycle. Justin's sickness hits its peak, then it starts getting better but only gets worse just when they'd think it's going away for good. "It's just a stupid cold."
"A cold? You sound like you're going to cough your lungs out," Clay remarks, which Justin rolls his eyes. He doesn't take it seriously, of course he doesn't. Clay knows him well enough by now. Justin simply doesn't want to see a doctor, and he'll do anything to convince them that he doesn't need to see one.
"I'm fine, I'll take some cough syrup and I'll be fine," Justin insists, taking it light-heartedly. Clay can't bring himself to. He can't help but feel as if something's wrong. Justin coughs until he makes himself to throw up.
"Justin, it's been almost two weeks, you're missing school and you look like shit," Clay tells him honestly. Justin needs to know the fact that this isn't something that will pass in a few days, because clearly, it wasn't.
"Thanks a lot for the compliment, Clay, it really evens out with me complimenting your tux," Justin grows a little annoyed, yet sounds as if he is joking.
"Justin, I'm serious," Clay gives him a look, but it doesn't change Justin's mind. He's stubborn and Clay knows that very well. They are brothers for basically a year now, and they know each other like if they've known each other their entire lives. Well, that's what Clay thought at the time, because it felt as if Justin had told him all his secrets by now. There wouldn't be more, right? He already knew all the moments Justin remembers of his childhood, it was something he'd tell Clay sometimes. Like the time he got put in a foster home because his home got raided by the DEA, the times he got beaten up by stepfather's, or the time he ran away from home for a week and got put in the system because the school reported his absences, which the cops found him outside a seven eleven in the outskirts of town. Clay knows a lot of Justin's stories, and he told Justin his own. They told each other basically everything.
Well, not everything, it seems.
"I'm fine, Clay! I don't need to see a doctor!" Justin argues, but the look on his face betrays him. He is clearly scared of what's happening to him.
"Justin, please, mom can make the appointment if you want, she can go with you... Or I can, if you're like scared or something," Clay suggested, which Justin is quick to scoff, trying to hide the fact that he would do it.
"No, I'm fine, really," Justin continues to insist.
"But what if it gets worse? What if this lasts until graduation?" Clay thinks it wouldn't actually happen, it's too much of a stretch.
"No, it wouldn't," Justin scoffs, he hates how Clay stands over him. He has always hated it, Clay would always see it in the look on Justin's face. "No one's sick for that long, it's just the flu, okay?!"
"Who knows, Justin? Is it so hard to just go to the doctor?" Clay questions, growing impatient. He wants to just quit talking about it, since Justin refuses to comply. But he knows he can't shrug it off.
"Whatever," Justin mutters.
And Clay doesn't say anything to change Justin's mind. He believes he had tried everything, but deep down, he feels that something bad might happen. But never had he acted to prevent it. Clay just lets Justin get worse until the boy decides to finally take it to the doctor.
Clay doesn't realize that he had fallen asleep until he is awoken by his parents' talking amongst each other, or the same old beeping from the monitor. He lifts his head from where it had been sleeping in his arms, which had been resting very close to Justin's lap. Justin's hand had been resting on his back, which Clay takes a hold of the limp hand as he sits up straight. He looks at the monitor.
Justin's still alive.
Clay is relieved, he doesn't know why, since he had been hating how long this was taking. He still is. Clay is just alleviated that he hadn't missed it. It would be absolutely pathetic for him to have slept through it. Clay hates the thought of that possibility, he shudders.
"Oh, you're awake," He hears his father's voice, but Clay is still rather confused. He isn't sure how long he has been sleeping for, but it is brighter than it has been before he took his "nap".
"How long have I been asleep for?" Clay asks them, and it looks as if they hadn't slept at all. Lainie is persistently adjusting the covers on top of Justin, she also adjusts the boy's favourite blanket. Matt keeps himself busy with a book, a hand on his wife's shoulder as they wait. The silence can almost bring one to tears, and no one says a word, listening to Justin's raspy and weak breaths. But he's still alive.
"All night, kiddo," Matt tells him, and only now does he feel the blanket around his shoulders. Justin was always cold, even with the covers and one blanket, which is why they always had the spare one.
"What? All night?" Clay's eyes grow wide. He can't believe he slept so long. He hasn't gotten so many hours of sleep in what felt like weeks, since Justin was first brought into the ICU with such severe pneumonia that the nurses in the ER struggled hide their concern. He turns to look at Justin, who is either asleep or passed out, but still breathing.
"You slept like a baby," Lainie teases a little, and Clay doesn't even give them a look, he doesn't even cringe like he typically would. He just keeps on staring at his brother, holding his hand. It's still warm. His oxygen levels don't seem to drop, it lingers at 62. There were moments when it drops to 59 or 58 but always bounce back minutes later. It doesn't seem to be descending, and it leaves Clay worried. Why should he be worried that his brother can breathe?
"Wait, it's been twenty-four hours, right?" Clay looks at his parents with a frown on his face. He straightens up with realization, almost concerned by how long it's been. Nothing is happening, still.
"It's really close," Matt tells him, glancing at his watch. He turns back to his book, which he had put aside. There was no way he could focus as much as he could in the night hours in the hospital ward, when everything went silent. Now, the ward had erupted into noise since early dawn, the staff making rounds and checking on patients.
Clay doesn't know how much time Justin had left, but he feels as if it's coming closer with each minute. With both hands, he brings Justin's hand up closer. The IV had been plugged out and the infusion had been taken off with all the dressing that held it in place. There was just a scar on his elbow, Clay observed it dreamily. It looked like the track mark Justin had one time, back during Hannah's trial.
The door slides open.
It's a nurse. She's a common sight, and the three of them have known her long enough to address her by name. She has always been checking up on Justin, doing extra checks whenever Matt or Lainie were worried about his temperature. So, when she walks in, she gives them a sad smile, which expressed her sympathy for the situation. They watch as she walks up to Justin's monitor, comparing to the numbers she has written down from when they had taken him off the ventilator.
The look on her face, it's hard to read, but Clay knows she is thinking deeply about the numbers. The nurse glances over at Justin, which she doesn't hesitate to check his temperature. Looking at the digits, she writes them down despite not being obliged to give Justin any medical care now, with his DNR and supposedly dying system.
"I know the doctor has now moved on to new patients, but I'll go make a few phonecalls," The nurse tells them with what appears to be a look of slight hope on her face. Clay doesn't take it seriously, he's pretty sure it's nothing. The Jensens don't assume anything.
"Is everything okay?" Lainie asks with a disquieted look on her face.
"Don't worry, I'm sure it's nothing to be concerned about," The nurse says. They all know that worry is all they can do. It can't exactly get worse from this. The nurse finishes writing some notes down on a clipboard before putting her pen away. "I'll be right back."
Clay looks at his parents. They don't think anything of it. How can they? Their hope had died. Justin's health had made such a downfall that disappointment was all they had experienced throughout the last few weeks. His death was just another stab in the back, and the reality that they weren't taking Justin back home with them.
Twenty-four hours have passed, and Justin's still breathing. Can they assume anything?