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Hal had known something was wrong when he saw that first purple bump. He had wanted so badly to brush it off as a blood bruise or a burst blood vessel. But he knew something was very wrong. He felt it in his soul.
The words the doctor spoke have haunted him every night since. They consumed his thoughts, his dreams– the words circulated through him like his tainted blood. Two simple words. That's all it was. Two stupid words that flipped his entire life around: kaposi sarcoma.
He hadn't told his boyfriend yet. He knew Ned would freak out, and he wasn't ready to have to comfort his lover over his own predicament. Or worse, his fight or flight would be activated. Hal could handle Ned screaming at him, but if he ran away– Hal shuddered to think of a life without his Ned.
But he loved Ned. The man deserved to know that his boyfriend was dying.
Ned had invited him to the funeral of his grandmother. Hal knew they had never been close, but he wanted to support his love nevertheless. Ned insisted it was more of a family reunion to him.
It wasn't the ideal place to tell him about his diagnosis, but with all the talk of death, Hal feared he would lose his nerve if he didn't say it today.
“You have what?” Ned asked, a strange catch in his voice.
“Kaposi sarcoma,” Hal repeated. “KS. I found this lesion last week.” He gestured to the browning lump on his upper arm. It had grown since he first spotted it.
“It's nothing,” Ned insisted. “Just a burst blood vessel or something.”
“Not according to the doctors,” Hal replied simply. “They don't know how long I have. It's possible I'll recover.”
“You will,” Ned interrupted.
“But it's also possible I don't,” Hal continued. “I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to drop this on you like this. I didn't know how to tell you.” Ned was silent for a while. Hal sat in the silence with him.
“I have to go,” Ned announced suddenly, turning away from Hal. “I need to go comfort my cousins.”
“Baby?” Hal called. “You'll come home tonight, won't you?” Ned paused.
“I have to go,” he repeated.
“Please?” Hal asked, his voice hoarse.
“I'll see you later,” Ned said finally. “But I have to go right now.”
~
Harry “Hotspur” Percy was a simple man. He believed in God. He worked hard. And he provided for his wife. On the surface, he seemed to lead a perfectly normal and successful life. But things are not always as they seem.
In their three years of marriage, Harry had not once yet had sex with his wife.
It was frustrating, sure. It was certainly confusing. He just didn't feel ready, even after all this time. And he didn't think she felt ready, either. Kate had asked a few times, but always avoided eye contact and didn't push too hard for it. Harry assumed that it was the religious upbringing and guilt– absolute abstinence culture runs deep.
He wished he could. He could tell there was something lacking from their relationship– he could only assume it was sexual intimacy. But, for some psychological reason or another, Kate and Harry abstained (perhaps what was holy before marriage was double holy after marriage). This was pathetic.
Harry needed to take a walk.
~
Kate wished her husband was home more. She wished a lot of things, actually. She wished he didn't go for so many walks, and that she knew where he went. She wished he didn't give her so much space in the bed at night. The room got chilly, even more so when he was gone. She wished the pill container was a little harder to open. And she wished the valium didn't feel so good.
She popped another pill. The wishes stopped.