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Sam was ready to let go.
He wasn't sure when the decision was made. He wasn't sure when he’d even begun thinking about it, really. When had it all started?
He just knew that as he got older the health complications grew thicker and thicker. It seemed to be every other week now where he was in the doctor’s office, blood tests, samples, eye tests, hearing tests¦ He had no idea what had gone wrong, if this was some form of karma for pushing himself too far, allowing himself to taunt a spirit maybe a bit too much. Or maybe it was just some old genetics, something that ran in his family which had only just decided to come and bite him in the ass.
Regardless of what it was, it did not change how tired he was. Twenty seven, and already his body was giving up. The constant back pain, earache. The concerned tone of his doctor's voice as he called her for the third time that month.
“Pain in your ears?”
His eardrums had stopped moving. They'd wanted him to have hearing aids, and an operation. He’d said no.
“Consistent migraines?”
Intracranial idiopathic hypertension, he had to have a lumbar puncture(he'd driven to and from it by himself). Oh, and chronic migraines. As if that wasn't enough.
“You’re feeling depressed? Mr Golbach, I can assure you this is just anxiety.”
Was it though?
He had no idea when he'd stopped telling Colby things. He could tell the younger man was concerned, constantly asking him where he was going whenever he'd leave the house for another appointment.
He had no idea why he was keeping these things from his boyfriend. He had no idea why he was choosing to keep it all to himself.
It just all seemed so ridiculous.
How could he have all of these complications? How could his body keep adding more and more onto the pile without giving him a single break? How was he supposed to get out of bed when just standing up sent a wave of dizziness straight through him, sending him toppling down onto the bed, couch, floor-.
All of which Colby would rush to his aid, help him up, ask him what's going on, if he's sleeping enough, if he needs to go to the doctor.
He had been going to the doctor.
Even they were in disbelief.
The brain scan was the last time he told his boyfriend anything. And he'd lied and told him the results were clean, the results were clear.
They weren't.
And yet the lines had begun to blur between the decision of getting better, and giving up.
He wasn't sure of much nowadays.
The constant fatigue was weighing down on him, the consistent brain fog that stopped him from having a single train of thoughts.
“Sammy?”
He looked up, turning his head to his boyfriend, who was playing with his fingers. Where had the childish smile that he loved so much gone? It was there a few minutes ago.
“You've been staring into space for an hour. I asked if you wanted to go out to eat.”
Go out to eat?
Why would they do that? What was the point in eating when he always threw it back up.
“Yeah, of course.” He forced a smile onto his face as he stared at the brunet, the way he immediately lit up, jumping up and off of the bed to go and get a shower, he presumed.
When was the last time they went on a date?
When was the last time he even showered?
Was he even alive anymore?
He didn't feel like he was.
Maybe he should catch a few minutes of sleep. So he could go on this date, so he could spend time with his boyfriend, more than just sleeping on his shoulder on the couch. Or falling asleep the minute he hit the bed, promises of sex long forgotten.
He shuffled to lay down, and just like that he was asleep.
Just like that.
It was dark when he woke up. He lifted his head, eyes moving to land on his boyfriend, who was asleep next to him¦ Not cuddled up at his side.
Why?
“Colby.” He whispered, reaching to shake his shoulder, eyebrows raised when his boyfriend opened his eyes, turned to look at him, flicker of sadness in them.
“What?” He replied immediately, tone almost Upset? Frustrated? He couldn't really tell.
“Are you ready to go?” He asked him, instead of acknowledging it.
“It’s past midnight, Sam. I tried to wake you up, you wouldn't. All you do is sleep now.” His boyfriend commented, and oh, if the guilt didn't immediately hit him right in the heart. He slept through it. Why did he keep doing that?
Why couldn't he stay awake?
“I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you.” He promised weakly, reaching to wrap his arm around the other man, but he just scooted away. He deserved that.
But despite this, he knew he couldn't tell Colby. It would only worry him, and Sam could handle this on his own. He could.
“You say that every week.”
And he did.
“Is that Doctor Jones?” He asked, phone held up to his ear, shower running in the background so Colby couldn't hear the conversation they were having and freak out.
“Yes, it is. What seems to be the problem today, Sam?”
The man didn't mean it in a harsh way. But God, if it didn't send the uncomfortable bubbling feeling through his stomach, he didn't know what would.
“I'm still.. I'm still tired all the time. I can't even edit videos, my boyfriend has to take over all of our workload. My breath feels short.. I don't know if I'm just being paranoid."
Colby had been catching on, moreso trying to. But Sam cancelled it out. Told him he was okay. It was just a migraine.
That the brain scan had said everything was fine.
“I see. Given this is consistent, I must ask that you come in immediately for a blood test.”
“Another one?” He croaked, head falling backwards against the cabinet in the bathroom.
“I’m afraid so. Please do not drive yourself.”
He made a hum of agreement, before he was standing up. The familiar routine of walking numbly towards the front door, almost forgetting to grab his keys on the way.
“Colby, I'm just going to the store.” He called out to his boyfriend, but even just the yelling of that sentence sent a wave of dizziness through him and he was falling- falling forward-.
Strong arms caught him. And Sam lifted his head, gaze landing on that oh so familiar pair of blue eyes that he loved so much.
Eyes filled with worry.
Everyone worried about him nowadays.
The few times he'd managed to get himself out, to go out with Alex, Tanner and Dakota like they did every week, everyone would point out how thin he was, how pale he was, how much he looked like shit.
He'd constantly be getting those texts from all of their friends. Asking if he was okay, saying they were there if he wanted to talk.
But he didn't want to talk.
He just wanted this all to stop.
“Sam. Are you okay? Honey?” Colby’s voice phased him back in. “Should I call an ambulance? What's going on?”
No more hospitals.
God.
No more of them.
“I'm okay. I- we ran out of painkillers. Need to go get some.” He explained briefly, slowly pushing himself back up to stand. To get back up. Like he always did.
“I think I should go get the-.”
“No. I need- I need the fresh air. I'll be back soon, okay? Love you.”
“Love you too.”
He sat in the car, head trained on the steering wheel in front of him. The images flashing through his head. Of how the nurse had gasped upon seeing him, begun asking so many routine questions.
She'd called Dr Jones into the room.
He was severely underweight. They'd hardly been able to get any blood out of his arm.
The concern on their faces was sickening as he expressed how he couldn't stomach eating. How the very thought made his stomach curl up in his chest.
Too fucking much.
Too much.
When would it all stop?
“You want some fries?” Colby asked as they all sat down in the restaurant. Dakota, Alex and Tanner already messing around playfully with each other, shoving and laughing and punching.
All the motion made him feel sick.
He shook his head to Colby's question. The thought of eating fries made him feel even worse. “Can I just have a water?” He asked instead, making the executive decision to ignore the flash of concern in all three of their eyes.
“I'll order you fries in case you want them.” The man settled on; Sam couldn't help but nod in agreement. If it made Colby worry less, than that was what mattered.
Despite the fact that with every waking minute the dark pit of despair grew darker within his chest.
Too much.
Too much.
The familiar calls ran through his head.
“So guys, you haven't been filming recently. How's your Twitter fans taking it?” Tanner asked, that all-too-fond-and-familiar laugh sounding around their booth.
2024 was supposed to be their year.
But it wasn't.
“Badly, as usual. When do they not complain about everything we do?” Colby chuckled, nudging Sam's arm. And he had to swallow down the gag that threatened to rise up his throat.
“Yeah.” He just nodded instead, allowing his head to lull down onto Colby’s shoulder, eyes slipping closed.
And just like that, it all went dark again.
“Sammy, your phone is ringing.” He was nudged awake softly, but God, he didn't want to wake up. Where were they? What were they doing?
His eyes opened ever so slightly, but he immediately closed them again.
Sleep.
Too much.
Too much.
And it went dark once more.
The next time he woke up, it was the jostling of being rolled on a bed, voices were echoing around him. He could hear his boyfriend’s voice.
He didn't want to. It all hurt too much.
He wanted to let go.
Sam was ready to let go.
“Get him hooked up now! Before we lose him!” A voice called, and an all-too familiar sounding sob ran through his mind, echoing and crashing off the walls of it until he registered who it was.
Colby.
Colby was crying.
Why was he crying?
He needed to check on him. He needed to- needed to-.
His eyes opened a few days later. His body felt heavy. He felt so so heavy.
“Honey?” A voice called, and his gaze shifted to Colby. Colby, who looked exhausted, his eyes were rimmed red with obvious tears, hair wet from a recent shower.
What was going on?
He could hardly process the nurses rushing into the room, checking his vitals, nothing. His gaze was just trained on Colby, on his face, on his tears.
But that was it.
“You have severe anaemia, Sam. You nearly died.” Colby was telling him, now on the hospital bed with him, holding him as close as possible.
As if he was scared Sam would fall through his arms the moment he loosened his grip.
He honestly felt like he would.
“Not to mention, hearing loss - you said no to the operation, Sam. You had a lumbar puncture and you didn't tell me? Why? Why did you do that? I can't help you if I don't know what’s wrong.” A hand suddenly cupped his chin, and his head was lifted to face his boyfriend.
Tears were thick in his eyes.
“It’s in life and death, Sam. I am not leaving your side. I don't care how sick you are. We can get through it as long as you don't keep it from me.” And then Colby was leaning in, pressing his warm lips to Sam's cold ones. Even though Sam looked a state, almost malnourished, as pale as a ghost, Colby still loved him.
He still cared.
“I wanted to let go.” he admitted, after Colby pulled away. And if he had actually gotten the hearing aids his doctor had advised, he'd likely have heard his breath hitch. “i don't anymore. You- you're right. But, I need help. I really need help.”
“And we will get you that. Just don’t push me away.”
“I won't.”
One year later
Sam smiled at Colby as they got in from their date. The man was giggling to himself as he goofed off, finding himself absolutely hilarious at the weird noises escaping his lips.
He pressed the cane down into the ground as he supported himself in walking into the house. He didn't need it most days, but today had been a weird day with his feet, consistent pins and needles and shaky legs.
He hadn't let it get in the way of their date.
Like he had all the time last year.
Besides, Colby liked carrying him everywhere when his legs got bad. The younger man had taken all of this as motivation to go to the gym more in order to help him.
“Come on, Sammy~! Meds time.” He sang, and Sam huffed out a laugh. He commonly found himself laughing around Colby until his throat hurt.
He still got sick a lot. He still had new medical conditions rise up every once in a while.
But he wasn't alone in them.
Sam didn't want to let go anymore.