Chapter Text
Cameron didn't believe in using euphemisms when talking about death, and so he always startled when someone began pitying him once he'd brought it up. Of course, what else could they have done? He was the one who'd said it.
He'd been stuck in his school counsellor's office every week since, he had a few suspicions on which of his teachers blabbed but he kept his mouth shut, and nodded along to whatever the counsellor was saying at the moment.
He ran into Gabe while giving his counsellor an awkward goodbye, literally—they'd bumped into each other, and he muttered a quiet apology while helping Gabe up. Cameron had glanced back at the open door of his counsellors' office, like an open shark's maw, and he whispered, "good luck" conspiratorially. He smiled at Cameron, and he was struck momentarily by Gabe. Everything about him kept Cameron rooted to the spot, the fluttering, delicate eyelashes, his large brown eyes that melted with his smile, and the way he looked at you that made you feel like you were special. It was when Gabe's eyes danced downwards to where their hands connected when he let go and ran away, clutching his papers to his chest.
~~~
He knew about Gabe, how couldn't he have? Their high school's golden boy. Gabe could do no wrong, universally liked by quite literally everybody. And for good reason. Cameron just never had the chance to really look at Gabe's face before. Or hear his soft, willowy voice so close. He shook the thoughts of the boy out of his head as his dad came to pick him up.
He entered the car, saying a hello, and his dad asked him about his day.
His mind flashed once again to Gabe, pulse quickening, "It was uh- fine."
It was fine.
He watched his school's parking lot fall away from him, grip tight on his pant leg.
~~~
Cameron rapt his knuckles on his parent's bedroom's door, slipping in with haste as if something malevolent followed behind him.
His mother had moved, at least, she had an arm around her blanket, and her hair stuck up, frizzy. Her eyes were closed, but as he whispered out a "mom?" they fluttered open. The curtains were drawn shut, like they had been for the past week or two,
"Yes?" Her voice was soft, but it was nothing like Gabe's gentle tone, it was frail and fluttery, threatening to fly away any second now.
"Have you eaten?"
"No."
"Are you going to eat?" Cam hid his frown. She hadn't eaten yesterday, or this morning.
"I don't have the appetite. I'm sorry." And that was the end of that. He slipped out, shutting the door silently behind him. Cameron sighed—he would try later again that night.
~~~
Gabe strummed his guitar gently in one of his school's practice rooms. He checked the clock, an hour and a half until his mom would be blowing up his phone. Two hours until the police would be called to check on him. Two hours and fifteen minutes until he found his mom in the hospital again. He bit his lip in frustration, fingers catching on the B steel string, a discordant twang sounding out. He winced and muted the string. He hadn't found any joy in playing music recently, finding the motions mechanical and practiced, but the other choice was going home at three, or going out somewhere with his friends, and neither option appealed to him much. It was better for him to just wait here until four.
He parsed through his music and found a song he didn't regularly play, hoping to take his mind of things.
~~~
Once in his room, Cameron blew past his piano, opting for his acoustic guitar, preferring the more mellow tones of his bronze strings. He tried to play a song he once heard passing through his school's halls from memory, a relatively simple four or five chord song. Cameron rested his head on top of his guitar, allowing the reverberations to sound through him.
~~~
Cameron didn't interact with Gabe for weeks after that, though it felt longer. His creepy obsession didn't abate, he still tracked Gabe's movements in class, followed the sound of his laugh, tried to sit behind him class even though the assumed seating "plan" had been locked in since September. It had occured to him, once or maybe even twice, that his little obsession was only to help take his mind off other things, like his grieving mom, or his dead father, but he shook it off, chasing the high of Gabriel's laugh once again. A flower yearning for its sunlight.
~~~
It wasn't until late fall when he was taking the long way to the student parking lot when he had his next conversation with Gabe. He'd imagined talking to Gabe again, of course, he'd just expected their interaction to have less vomit.
Gabe was hidden behind some grass, and a tree trunk, head against the school wall, hands around his knees, pile of his own vomit a few feet away from him, judging by the… freshness?
"Hey."
Gabe's head snapped upwards, having clearly not spotted him. He froze, a deer in headlights, eyes darting beside him.
"Hi. Fuck," he scrambled to get up, almost successfully doing so, before shrinking and falling back down into the grass again, he winced in pain, not meeting Cameron's eyes, "Fresh air—it's what my doctor said. Fresh air, yep."
"Yeah, of course." he said, acquiescing, "Do you need any Advil, or something?"
Gabe blurted out a "No! No. Its… not. I shouldn't take some. It's bad for me."
"I think it's supposed to be the opposite…?"
A smile flashed on Gabe's face, and Cameron stared. He was pretty. Had he mentioned that? God, Gabe was pretty. "Sorry. I'm not usually like this. Well, no, that's a bit of a lie. I'm usually more put together is what I meant."
Cameron finally found something in him that made him move again, and he took a seat beside Gabe. "Yeah. I mean- I noticed." He was blowing it, wasn't he? Gabe looked away from him, and onto the school's open field.
"You have?" Gabe said suspiciously.
"Yeah." When Gabe was there, anyway, because most of the time, he hadn't. It was known, just as everyone knew Gabe was a sweetheart, that he was simply not there half the time. His friends would invite him out, and he'd not show. He invited people out, and he wouldn't appear, leaving them waiting for hours. He was as ephemeral as the passing wind—and Cameron was slowly starting to have a clue why.
"Are you um, waiting for someone to pick you up?" Cameron asked, picking at his laces, nervous but trying not to show it.
Gabe shook his head, "No. I'm usually here after school."
"Why's that?"
"I'm working on some music." Gabe shifted in his seat.
"That's really cool. I didn't know you were into that." He had. Of course, he had. He'd heard Gabe's haunting voice a few times, when most of the students had eagerly filed out after the school day had ended, and when wandering near the music hall, you could hear the sound of an angel's song.
"Yeah," Gabe directed a slight smile at him, brown hair blowing with the breeze. It wasn't just that his smile was beautiful, and magical, and all that was right in the world—Cameron shook his head, "What are you working on?" It was that when he smiled at you, you felt like the only person in the world, that it was just you and him and everything else melted away as easily as frost in the springtime.
"Oh! I like to compose my own music. I'm really into jazz and classical right now. I'm trying to find a good mix in between them but I don't think it's working." He laughed.
Cameron let out a soft smile, "I'd love to hear it sometime? I mean- I, uh," he scrambled to find an explanation. He didn't want to make it seem like he was desperate. It'd seem like he had no friends, and he did- he did have no friends—but he liked it that way. "It's just uh, I like music too—"
"You're an awful liar." Gabe laughed. The sound reminded him of wind chimes and Sunday mornings.
"No! I do like music. I play guitar, piano, and saxophone."
"Oh really? Maybe I'd like to hear you play sometime, Cameron."
He didn't know Gabe knew his name! Emboldened, he said, "Maybe you will."
"Do you really play all those instruments?"
Cameron scoffed, "Of course." He didn't tell Gabe it was because the time he had outside of school was spent only playing music, or that he'd often had to find company with his guitar rather than other peers his age. He picked at his shoelaces' aglet. "I like guitar the best though."
"Me too," he said, and Cameron could hear the smile in his voice, "I think it was made for me. Or, no, I was made for it."
"I feel the same," Cameron said softly.
~~~
It had been a while since Gabe felt anything remotely next to normal—but talking with Cameron made him believe there was nothing going on at home, that his stomach was in enough agony he'd collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily and trying to puke his intestines out. That he was just another normal person, who was to be treated just like everybody else.
He came home with a smile on his face, earlier than normal too, so his mom wouldn't have to worry that much. There was the subject of, well, having to lie to his new- friend? (He wasn't sure. Cameron seemed to enjoy his company, and he enjoyed theirs.) About why he stayed after school. On a technicality, it was true, he supposed.
Gabe took his shoes off and put them away by the rack at the front door, looking up to find his mother anxiously biting her nails, spinning on their living room chair.
"You're early!" She jumped up and rushed to engulf him in a hug. "I'm so glad you're home safe. I thought you might've- how's your stomach? Should I ask Dan to pick up more meds?"
"Come on mom, let me go. See, I'm alive?" He tried to pull away, her touch suffocating, her grip around his head and under his chin. He wasn't sure how it still disconcerted him every time his mom got into one of her moods, but it did.
"Did you eat your lunch?"
"No mom, you made it on the floor," he had thrown it out as soon as he got off the bus and reached the school. Floor sandwiches lost their appeal pretty quickly. She finally let go of him with one last squeeze, "Huh, okay. Do you have any homework? That reminds me! I know you guys have a recital coming up, I'm very excited to hear you and Natalie play! Oh, my babies have grown up so fast," She pinched his cheeks.
"I'm fine, mom. I've practiced plenty. So has Nat—I think."
"Well, you know how she is. I hope that Henry has been a good influence on her."
Gabe smiled, "You'd know about teenage relationships."
"You're such a twat."
"You can't call me that!"
Diana laughed, "Go up to your room, hon, I'll make dinner before your dad gets home—I'll call you down, okay?"
"Try not to burn the pasta again. And please stop using that disgusting cheese. I don't think it's even made out of milk. It's green and purple."
She made a face, "It is pretty bad, but it's good for you. Okay, stop looking at me like that. You know I can't say no to you when you use those eyes."
"Mom, Natalie said she would rather eat chalk last time. Don't you dare use that stuff."
"Fine, fine. But you have to take your pills!"
Gabe groaned, "Fine."
~~~
They needed groceries again. Cameron closed his pantry door and tried to look at the back of one of their cupboards for some old pasta sauce, maybe? In the end, after much searching, he settled for butter, whatever spices they had, and cream. They didn't have cheese, so hopefully it still turned out okay in the end. Cameron took the noodles off the heat and mixed in all the ingredients.
His mom had a better time with soft foods, throwing them up less frequently. He left the pot to simmer, grabbing his phone to set a reminder to go grocery shopping tomorrow.
He wondered if Gabe would be at school. For the entire week, he'd been looking out for the sight of his hair, or his dazzling smile—just one glance. His friends didn't say anything about it. He guessed they were used to it, and so were the teachers. No matter what Gabe did, if he missed 3 weeks of school at a time, the teachers still fawned over him, and he hadn't failed a single class so far. Lucky.
He stirred the pasta and went to knock on his parents—his mom's bedroom. Of course. There were only two of them in the house, and it had been like that since March. Cameron's voice was shaky as he called out, "Dinner's ready."
"Thank you, honey," she said from the silhouette of a pile of blankets on her bed.
"Come eat, mom." Please.
~~~
It was one of those weeks when, every day he'd wake up and think it's going to be better than yesterday and the pain would hit him like a freight train, leaving him to pickup the pieces of his broken body. At least his mom wouldn't come in the room too often—she hadn't liked seeing him in pain.
He'd already missed half the weeks' days of school, but he'd still held out the hope he could make it to tomorrow. Gabe checked his phone. Wednesday, November 3rd. No messages. He guessed his friends were used to it by now. He shifted his legs so they were hanging off the bed, using his mattress to support his weight as he tried to stand up. He'd drawn the curtains closed, and now wishing he hadn't, he needed some light. If he had told his friends, instead of being afraid, they could've been here, they could've called, or texted, and at least he would have someone to talk to that wasn't his stuffed animals, or Natalie when she was home and not in a mood. The pain struck his stomach like a jarring chord, ringing throughout his entire body, and he collapsed to the floor, his back to the bed. Gabe exhaled, wishing there was anything that would make the pain even just a fraction better.
There was… there was someone who knew he was, at least, a little bit sick. Someone he didn't have to hide his chronic condition around. Who wouldn't coddle, or pity, or baby him. Christ, why had he not thought of this before? It was genius!
Gabe pondered it over. He'd ask for Cameron's number, or… something—he wasn't quite sure of the protocol for these types of things. He never really had to try to make friends before, they just came to him. Yes. He'd ask for Cameron's phone number then they—
It stabbed into his lower stomach. He was going to die, blowing up from the inside out. They'd find his insides on his roof—
As fast as the pain had come, it abated—better? Maybe?— Marginally better. How long had it been? He checked his phone, arm at an awkward angle trying to grab his phone from his bed above him. Would you look at that, he was fully on the floor now. Arms and legs spread out over his rug, Prometheus getting his internal organs eaten at by vultures. He was fine.
Crohn's Disease, he thought—it felt so serious. It didn't feel all that serious, not really. It was just something that he had that everyone wouldn't let go. Gabe moaned out in agony again, the pain flaring. Not serious at all. Nope.
Sure, it hurt a bit—a lot, sometimes, but it didn't make him less of a person. It was difficult to feel normal with it, when everyone treated him like some pharaoh, an alien from outer space, a bug to be looked at under a microscope, a son who could do no wrong.
Gabe knew nothing better than his ceiling. White, bumpy, and with glow-in-the-dark stick on stars. He'd stared at it a million times before, and a million times in the future. Gabe clutched his stomach.
Something would change. It had to.
~~~
The next morning, before the morning bell would ring, Gabe tried to look for Cameron. He'd even excused himself from his friends—who dutifully said a "hey, you're here." A few people volunteered to go with him, but backed off when he shook his head. Gabe tried the music hallway, their first period classroom, and outside the school, though he felt like a pot slowly brought to boil, waiting for the onset of pain to come as he made his way around the school's perimeter. He cut it short a third of the way there, realizing it would take him after the bell to finish. He headed back inside, and went with his friends to his chemistry class.
Once seated at their usual spots, he tried to look for Cameron again, knowing he sat just across the room in front of him. He'd never seen him talk to anyone in the class, or with anyone really, so he couldn't have asked a friend. Twenty-five minutes in, and it became clear to Gabe that Cameron was not just at his locker. His heart dropped down to his hands, his lungs heavy.
This was supposed to be different. He was supposed to talk to Cameron, they'd laugh, he'd give him his phone number, and Gabe would invite him out for sorbet. Gabe usually didn't eat out, or eat much sweet treats, but he would've made an exception. Cameron would say yes, and Gabe would confess about his illness.
He had to be different.
~~~
It was a math test that seemed to summon Cameron. In their third period, right after lunch, Cameron had walked in, jeans, a long sleeved shirt underneath a band tee, and his usual unpeturbed air of indifference. Hands full of textbooks, he took his seat at the front of the class and waited for the teacher to hand out their tests. Curse his past self for choosing not to sit closer to the front. Gabe glanced side-long at his laughing friends, boisterous and losing it over an inside joke. His teacher told everyone to put away anything that wasn't a pencil and a calculator, Gabe settled in his seat determined to finish the test quickly and speak with Cameron right after. In just a few minutes, he would be able to talk to him at last.
~~~
Gabe did not finish his test until five minutes after the bell, where everyone had filed out and his teacher was cleaning their whiteboard off. Gripping his pencil tight, he wrote down the last calculation, seventy-five percent sure it was completely off. Hey, he'd been forced to miss half the unit. Once in the hallway, he looked around for Cameron, but obviously he had not been waiting for Gabe outside their class. Defeated, Gabe clutched his binder and walked down the stairs to his last class—his class without Cameron. Damn it. If he were just better, good enough to have been able to come yesterday, if he weren't so impaired by his stupid disease.
Looking up, Gabe found Cameron at one of their school's exits, typing something on his phone, like he'd summoned him from thinking hard enough. His silhouette was slightly blocked out by the sun through the schools large windows, a saviour in the light. Heart beating hard and heavy in his chest, Gabe stalked over.
Cameron looked up from his phone, and paused, "Hey. Are you okay? You haven't been—"
Gabe half-snapped, "I'm fine." What was it with people and that damn question? Why couldn't have Cameron been easier to track? It's not like he had his own Crohn's disease.
Well, that was unfair. "Sorry," he said. Christ, this was nothing like how he planned it. "I was just- I don't know. Sorry."
"It's fine," he quirked a smile, "Did you need something? Aren't you supposed to be in class?"
"Am I supposed to be in class? What about you?"
Cameron shrugged, "I guess. But what are they going to do, call my parents?"
"Yes?"
Cameron huffed out laughter, "Okay."
After his laugh died down, they stared at each other, not awkwardly at all. Gabe played with his hoodie string, "Hey, um-"
Cameron said, barely a second later, "So I-" he stopped, looking at him, "Sorry, go ahead."
"I was wondering if you um, wanted to, hang out with me?" Gabe tried to smile, and it was not awkward, or weird, or strange at all, "Or maybe, I could, like, give you my phone number and you can text me or something." This was going well.
A smile bloomed on Cameron's face, he took his phone out from his pocket, "With this charm I can see why you have so many friends, golden boy. How could I say no?"
"Golden boy? You sound ridiculous." He laughed, then stopped when Cameron's face twisted. His heart alarmingly skipped a beat—he did not want to go to the ER again.
"I want to hang out with you, but—" Goddamn it.
"But?"
"I'm a bit busy right now."
"Oh. Okay." Gabe's heart dropped from his hands.
"Christ, don't pout." He looked alarmed.
Gabe dropped his pout, "You sound like my mother."
Cameron rolled his eyes, but still he smiled, "Sorry. I have to go grocery shopping and…" he trailed off.
"Take me with you." Gabe blurted. Of course, why not. Take him to the grocery store, great idea, Gabe.
"What?"
"You're going right now, right?" He said, mildly hopeful.
"Uh, yeah. But you still have school…"
"Please. Take me with you?" It was a good idea, he tried to convince himself. Some friendships started in a classroom, or at a cafe, a grocery store was basically the same thing. Everything was going according to plan.
"Sure…?" he resettled his bag from where it rested on his shoulder. "You're not going to get in trouble with your mom, or something?"
Oh, yeah. his mom would absolutely freak out. He wondered what stories she would convince herself were true next. Maybe he'd gotten involve with drugs, and ran away with his drug dealer to Alburquerque. "Um… I probably will. It's fine, though." He added, convincingly.
Cameron huffed, "You're making me a bad influence."
"Is that how that works?"
"Sure." They walked out of the school doors, and Gabe gave one last glance to their school. He followed Cameron to where the student parking lot was located, "Are your parents okay with it?" Gabe asked.
He couldn't see Cameron's face, but he sounded weird. "Yeah, they'll be fine with it. I mean, my mom's fine with it."
"Oh, okay."
Cameron unlocked his car with its chirp.
His car was messy but not overwhelmingly so, either way Gabe was used to it. When his mom was one in of her episodes the house could go uncleaned for weeks. It was a standard grey Honda Civic, but inside Cameron had one of those dangly mirror ornaments that hung off the rear view mirror—a sun and the rest of the solar system hanging below it. Gabe got comfortable in the passenger seat and put on his seatbelt.
Cameron glanced around, "Sorry for the mess."
There were loose papers in the backseat, an old bottle of water in the car cup holder, a few clothes strewn on the seats and some granola wrappers. "I don't mind."
Cameron nodded and put the car into drive, and they were on their way to the nearest grocery.
"Hey, where were you this morning?"
Cameron glanced over at him, expression unreadable, "I had um, stuff."
"Oh. Okay."
"Sorry, that's a bit vague. I had to take care of my mom."
"Really?" Gabe knew exactly what that meant. Did Cameron really—
Was his mom—?
"You sound surprised."
After a moment debating on how much to give away, he settled to tell the truth, "My mom's crazy. Half. She's diagnosed with BPD, Depression, Schizophrenia and probably a bunch of other stuff. She's completely lost in her own world half the time."
"I know what that feels like," Cameron murmured, "You know, I didn't expect you—nevermind. My mom's um, yeah. She's… not doing great either."
"It's awful." Gabe said, sympathetically.
Cameron said nothing to that, and Gabe could sense his thoughtful mood. They moved on from the topic and started a conversation about graduation instead.
~~~
The automatic sliding doors opened in front of them and Cameron pushed a shopping cart while Gabe trailed behind him. He was staring, eyes shining with excitement—andthe overhead fluorescent lights, as if he'd never been in a grocery store before. Cameron asked him such.
"Yeah- I'm not really out much..?" He laughed awkwardly. "My mom doesn't—" he cut himself off. "Yeah, this is a bit new."
"I'm sure the aisle of vegetables will blow your mind," Cameron said.
They first went to the bakery section, Cameron grabbed dinner rolls and a loaf of white bread while Gabe pranced around, weaving in and out through the shelves. He came back to their shopping cart with brownies in tow, "hey, Cameron, can we get ice cream?"
He glanced over at Gabe, "Sure. It's at the back though so we'll get it later."
"Okay!" Gabe put the brownies in the section of the cart for small kids to sit in.
Cameron led them over to the fruit and vegetable section, picking up bananas, tomatoes, garlic, and the like.
He was looking for a good batch of tomatoes when Gabe asked him how to pick a good batch.
"I just go off the colour and hardness usually. These look okay, but those don't." He pointed to a bunch with smaller, less bright tomatoes.
"Thats— oh, fuck."
"Are you—?"
Gabe was leaning on the produce table, one arm wrapped around his stomach, taking a big deep breath in. "Yeah, it's normal. Don't worry."
"Okay. Yeah, sure. If you say so." He gave him a concerned glance before moving on to the squash. Gabe followed him shortly, face still scrunched in pain, but he was moving.
When in the dry cereal aisle, Gabe was doing better. Commenting on the bright packaging, and cereal flavours.
"I've never had Lucky Charms. They look so good."
"We can buy some if you want. I think they taste awful, personally. Never enough marshmallows." Cameron scanned the shelves.
"No, no, it's fine. What do you like the best?"
"The Reese's puff cereal is also so good, but it's Frosted Flakes obviously." He grabbed the box off the shelves and put it with the rest of his groceries. Milk next.
~~~
They were in the canned soup aisle when Cameron noticed Gabe wasn't behind him anymore. He turned around their shopping cart—theirs now, Gabe had put in whatever snack caught his eye, and they ended up with a collection of unhealthy yet brightly coloured packaged food—and started for the aisle they were last at.
He found Gabe in the international foods aisle, head back against the shelves, curled up in a ball as people drove their shopping carts around him.
"Hey," Cameron walked up to him. Gabe said nothing.
"Gabe, are you—what do you need?"
"Nothing. It will pass," Gabe squeezed his arms around his knees, voice muffled.
Cameron kept silent, watching Gabe carefully. He reached out a hand for Gabes shoulder, pulling back at the last second.
"Okay, I'll just- be here if you need me."
"I'm going to the bathroom." Gabe said suddenly, "Keep shopping, okay? I'll meet you at the checkout."
"Gabe—"
"Cameron." He said severely, sharp enough to make Cameron back away. "Go." He looked up and met Cameron's eyes, stare entirely menacing.
"I- um, okay." Cameron was rarely speechless, but Gabe's eyes staring deep into his, well, scared him.
Gabe finally broke his gaze, looking down at his hands, "Thanks."
Cameron said nothing, watching him, then turning to leave.
~~~
Tears threatened to spill from Gabe's eyes. It's like he was being punished for skipping school, for finally hanging out with a friend for once.
~~~
Morgan rolled her eyes, already fed up with everyone's else's yelling. "He's not coming, id- guys."
"It's only been five minutes, come on."
Half the group nodded, the other half incensed. They all stood outside the movie theatre for the premier of Escape Room. A plan they'd had for two months. A plan they'd regularly reminded Gabriel of, so he would actually show up.
"Okay, but does he ever come?" She said, checking her phone. "I've got no messages from him. And I bet none of you guys have either. I love him but come on, we're used to this."
"I know, but it couldn't have been too much to ask for him to be here?"
"He's flaky. Now come on before we're late to the movie."
~~~
It had been hours, and he was feeling like a mummy with each passing second. Muscles atrophying, Gabe put his head down onto his knees, noticing the wet spot on his jeans. He was in the family bathroom on the floor, becoming grosser by the second. Who knew what kind of germs lived here?
He wished his mom was here to make it all better. He pressed a palm to his eyeball socket, pushing it all back.
Someone knocked on the door. Gabe jolted and looked up, "Occupied!" He tried to put some strength into his voice but it came out thin.
"It's just me, Cam." His voice sounded through the door.
Gabe froze.
It made the cramp worse, and he buried his head in his hands.
"Can I come in? I just... wanted to see if you're alright. I can go if you want, but I don't want to."
"It's fine," he croaked out, "I'll be out in a few minutes," he lied.
"It's already been close to twenty minutes, I finished grocery shopping? Uh, there's like, no rush. It's just… been some while," Cam said.
What was Gabe to do? He didn't think Cam would leave without protest. And he wanted him to stay gone so badly. "Go." He couldn't see him like this. No one saw him like this but his mom.
"Please?"
"I hate you," Gabe stood up and hobbled to the door. He meant the words. He did hate him.
Cameron tracked his eyes all over Gabe's body. He closed the door behind him, locking it, "You look awful. Come here."
"What?"
Cam rolled his eyes, "where does it hurt?"
Gabe bit his lip, "M- my stomach. Cramps."
Cam went to the sink while Gabe slid down the floor, closing his eyes. He was sweating profusely, and the pain was spreading from his abdomen all the way up his neck. Cam returned, wet paper towel in tow, "Pull up your shirt."
Gabe complied, and Cam put the hot paper towel against his lower abdomen.
"Thank you."
"You're so freaking stubborn, you know?"
"I'm not."
"Case in point," Cameron smiled at him, and it felt impossible, but the pain melted away for just a second.