Date: Wed, 10 Jan 2001 22:09:36 -0800 (PST)
From: Reid <saboteur_98155@yahoo.com>
Subject: Took For Granted- Chapter 1 (gay male/celebrity)

=DISCLAIMER=
This story is meant to imply nothing about the
sexuality of the real people involved. Anything
mentioned from this point on is purely fictional and
not meant in any way but the highest regard.

The lyrics used within are not meant to imply anything
about the individual preferences, practices, or
lifestyle choices any of the musical artists mentioned.
The lyrics are not used for any personal monetary
profit...

If you have any objections to my writing, then why in
the name of Jesus are you reading this? I know some of
you might like Hanson but I don't buy the whole
"I didn't know it was a GAY STORY!" defense. So shut
up and don't send me any more hate mail you stupid,
obesessed little Christian girls.

Comments, Suggestions, and Criticisms can be sent to
saboteur_98155@yahoo.com

I can be reached on ICQ at 70639912...
Or on AIM at Reid00005992...

Enjoy!


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||  Took For Granted- Chapter 1                     ||
||  By Reid                                         ||
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These doctors made so much money and cured people of life threatening
diseases, but they can't afford to heat their office? It just didn't make
much sense to me. They at least could have made an effort for the more
nervous cases that passed through their doors but it wasn't like my
opinion mattered. These doctors could just go on shoving their patients
into poorly heated offices to get the bad news and do so shivering all the
way, for all my words meant. It wasn't like making someone comfortable
really mattered that much when you were going to bleed them dry for your
precious time and services.

Excuse me, Doctor, I was just coming to you because my health is failing
and you're supposedly able to help. Don't mind me. I'll just sit my ass
right down here and shiver while you drop the bomb. Don't worry, I'll be
fine! You just sit there and stroke your beard and click your tongue and
worry about what's to be done with this Homer Simpson! Or something.
Doctors always made me nervous but the real odd thing was that I was never
really nervous when it was me. It was when someone I cared about needed
medical care that it really got to me. My personal health didn't really
mean anything in my immediate mind when it compared to someone I cared
about. But the other weird thing was that I'd never cared about anyone as
much so the whole experience and cavalcade of feelings were totally new to
me.

It had started when Zac had complained about "twinges" in his hands when
the tour swung through Brazil. No one really suspected anything and the
general consensus was that he should ice his hands after the show. The ice
worked well enough and there weren't any problems until late in the night
after the final tour date in Rio De Janeiro. On the ride back to the hotel
from the arena, Zac was shaking his hands so violently that I had to stop
him and ask what was wrong. He said his hands were "just kinda numb" from
all the performing and autograph signing. He then subdued me with a kiss
and his trademark smile, which set me at ease. If only I'd known what
would happen several days later, I would have insisted he get medical
treatment. But I didn't and it ate at me the whole time in the office.

During the flight back to Tulsa from Rio, Zac had begun to shake his hands
again and the flopping sound was so loud, it woke me up. That should have
worried me right there because in my entire life, I'd never woken up on a
plane flight before and I'd taken many. When I asked what was wrong, in
the reading light of the cabin, his face looked unusually worried. It
wasn't something I was used to and it made me worried too. He said his
hands were feeling numb again and when the waitress brought several bags
filled with ice, something inside me told me it was starting to get
serious. Zac again managed to soothe me and assured me that the ice was
making him feel better, then another smile and kiss which calmed me down
again. The rest of the flight was uneventful but I didn't sleep as well as
I had been. I was still worried.

Then it got serious. Our second night in Tulsa was interrupted at 5:49 in
the morning when I heard Zac sobbing next to me. Until that point, Zac had
never really cried in front of me and it was like I didn't know what to
do. He was curled up in the fetal position, protecting his hands against
his stomach, and his eyes were clenched shut. He was in some other world
of pain and I don't think he even recognized my voice when I tried to
alert him. He was just curled into a ball and whimpering with pain. It was
the most horrible sound that had ever hit my ears and the acid in my
stomach seemed to flash boil with concern. After practically shouting at
him, he opened his eyes and looked at me... and the look was so pleading, so
dependent... if you had asked me right then and there, I would have told you
that my heart was breaking.

There was some relief when he was able to sit up long enough for me to
pull some clothes on him and wake up his mom and dad. I could only imagine
what it was like for them to see him in so much agony as we went to the
doctor. Me in the back seat cradling Zac like a baby and holding him while
he sobbed with worry and pain. It had started raining and the morning was
gray and pretty damn appropriate for what was happening. Zac's dad had
nearly sent the car into a fence in his hurry and when we got to the
hospital, it was like some dream. My feet didn't feel the wet concrete
outside the emergency room or the floor of the inside of the ER.

By the time we got there, the pain wasn't so severe and Zac managed to
stay a trooper as we waited for the pediatrician. Zac laid his head on my
shoulder and he didn't really say anything. He just sat there and looked
down at his hands, which didn't look out of the ordinary. Whatever was
wrong wasn't doing anything to his skin or the outward appearance of his
hands and for it's own odd reason, was scarier than if he'd gotten his
hands caught in the blender. They just looked so normal.

"Reid?" He said softly.

"Yeah?" I looked up from the crossword puzzle I had become involved in.

"Something is seriously wrong with me." His tone was so flat and
unfamiliar.

"We don't know that." I said, kissing his forehead as consolingly as I
could.

"I can tell. It felt like someone had parked a bulldozer on my hands."

Yikes. There was no way I could even pretend to identify with what that
must have felt like and as much as I wanted to write it off as heat of the
moment embellishment, there was just something in he way that he said it.
He sounded so sure of himself that it chilled me right to the bone. What
made it worse was that there was no way I could really reassure him
because not even I knew what was going on. I'd heard of husbands and wives
having trouble finding out what happened to their significant others so
why would the doctors tell the "gay partner" anything? When Zac
disappeared back into the exam room, I would be waiting for word just like
his mom and dad.

Things were still kinda awkward between the parents and myself. His mom
had seemed accepting enough but his dad had been more than a little...
cold. It was pretty apparent that they didn't want Zac to get hurt and
letting him take a stab at his first real relationship had taken a lot of
letting go and trust on their part. When Mr. Hanson, we both weren't
comfortable with the first name thing yet, had agreed (at Zac's endless
begging) to allow the band to lug me on tour, and it was a big concession.
The money it cost to transport and feed a 19 year old guy wasn't putting
him in the poorhouse but it still showed that they were at least willing
to respect my relationship with Zac as one that would be good to try and
nurture.

So there we sat. In the cold waiting room using it for what it was named
for. Waiting. They were waiting for word on their third youngest son... I
was waiting for word on the kid that had saved me from a life of crime. It
was pretty interesting how we must have looked. The chair that Zac had
occupied was on my left between his mom, and myself and on her left side
was his dad. And we just sat there for what felt like days with no word
from the doctor about what was going on. I could tell that Mrs. Hanson was
nearly hitting the ceiling and I didn't blame her at all.

One of my less charming traits was that when I worried, my sinuses would
feel like they were being worked over with a jackhammer. Ever since I'd
woken up that morning feeling Zac sobbing in pain against me, my sinuses
were at about pain factor 1000. No amount of shaky massage did it any good
so I resigned to spending my morning sitting in the glaring hospital
waiting room rubbing my eyes like an old yenta. It was the kind of thing
I'd normally laugh and poke fun at but when it was happening to me, it
suddenly wasn't quite as hilarious.

"Reid?" Mrs. Hanson said.

I pulled my hand from my face and squinted at her like a bear just out of
hibernation, "Yeah?"

"Are you all right? Do you need some aspirin?"

"No thanks. If a red hot poker wouldn't get rid of the pressure, I doubt a
pill would help."

I uncrossed my legs and leaned forward with my elbows on my knees and
rubbed my face. This was all just happening at the best possible time. We
had bonded so strongly just a few months earlier and there was no way of
knowing if he was going to be taken away from me. This was just so damn
cruel and I didn't know if God was punishing Zac, me, or both of us for
being gay. If he was, he was sure doing a damn good job of it because my
face felt like it was going to fall off and there was no way of knowing
how Zac was. It almost made me laugh in the mirthless tone that I thought
I'd left behind when I'd met Zac.

So there we sat... and the deep canyon of awkwardness was just widening and
getting bigger and wider. The only thing I could do to keep from going
crazy was to try and meditate, but a lovely stinging ache in one of my
back teeth was starting to get worse. To top my life off, God had to give
me sensitive teeth. What a giving guy he was. Then I immediately felt bad
because God had given me Zac and it wasn't like I could turn right around
and renounce him for it. That God... he's a funny guy. That sense of humor
is just tosser, I'm telling ya. Wait a minute... what the hell was that?
What's with the British word? Oh screw it.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hanson?" The voice didn't sound familiar but I assumed it
was a nurse or something.

The next few words didn't penetrate my shell of self-pity but when Mr.
Hanson gently shook my shoulder, my head snapped up and I looked at him,
"Yeah?"

"The doctor wants to see us." He said.

My stomach jumped as I stood up and rubbed my eyes briskly a few times,
trying to get my wits about me and put on my strong face. We walked over
through the emergency room and I did my best to try and block out all the
pain-related activity going on. Somewhere along the way, I was told that
we were going to meet with a pediatric muscular specialist or something
like that. Either way it wasn't something that made me feel any safer. If
it were up to me, I would have packed Zac's hands in ice and taken him to
a witchdoctor. Thank God I wasn't in charge.

The doctor's office was actually pretty nice but of course, the first
thing I noticed was the lack of heat. The room was a dark brown color with
burgundy seats that just made my blood boil. How many heart surgeries did
he have to work on to afford those seats? Then I wondered how many kids
died that he didn't give a second thought to. Before I had even met this
doctor, I was cursing him and his unborn children. Usually Zac was right
there to calm me down and keep me from losing my cool, but he wasn't there
and the vile assumptions just kept coming.

The side door to the office opened and the doctor walked in. At first, all
my suspicions were fueled as he looked like the kind of doctor that would
see kids as nothing more than dollar signs. He looked to be about 40 and
he was dripping with the George Clooney charm that I had despised so much
during the first five seasons of ER. Part of me expected him to still be
zipping up his fly from a quick nooner in the hospital broom closet.

"Hi there," He said and his voice made me wince, "I'm Dr. Bailey. You must
be Mr. and Mrs. Hanson?"

>From what I could see, they were having the same apprehensions I was. It
made me feel reassured and it made this Dr. Bailey turn up the charm even
more. I wondered what his first name was. Probably something easy to
remember like Dr. Dan or Dr. Dean or Dr. Dickhead. When he looked at me
questioningly, I wanted to jump across the desk and impale him with his
Sharper Image desk lamp.

"And you are...?" He asked, his tone was pleasant but nothing could break
through my wall of hate.

"I'm Reid. I'm a very close friend of the family."

He nodded his head agreeably and sat back at his desk. He made the little
"sucking the air in through his teeth" noise as he looked at Zac's chart.
I felt pretty low at that point, to be honest. The life partner. The
homosexual lover. According to everyone else, my title was "close personal
friend of the patient". According to every fan at all the meet and greets
all over the world... I was "Zac's best friend". My stomach wanted to churn
but I reminded myself that any discomfort I was feeling had to pale in
comparison to what Zac was going through.

"Well... we ran some X-rays, did a CAT scan, and we checked the area," Dr.
Bailey said, "It turns out that Zac has developed a form of arthritis.
It's very rare in people his age and it comes from repeated and
unrelenting stress to the wrist and back of the hands. We've seen it quite
a bit in people who have worked in factories or other places of employment
where they've had to repeat the same action in high stress situations."

"So... Zac has carpal tunnel syndrome?" Mrs. Hanson asked and I could feel
her worry.

"Zac has a more severe form of carpal tunnel syndrome. Apparently, his
history of playing the drums has damaged his wrists. The muscles have
deteriorated and the tendons in his wrists have ruptured," The doctor got
what I could tell was an X-ray of Zac's hands, "You'll see here that the
nerves that connect his fingers to his hands are swollen. And he has this
condition in both his hands. It's very painful and it won't go away.
Basically, what we're looking at here... Zac's hands have failed."

"What do we do?" Mr. Hanson asked in a very hollow voice.

"There's a surgical procedure where we go in and sever the tendons. It
relieves the immediate pain and if we perform the surgery soon enough,
he'll still have feeling in his hands." Dr. Bailey sat back and I felt
myself begin to soften towards him.

"Will he still be able to use his hands?" I asked.

"No. After the surgery, he'll have no muscular control in his hands."

Mrs. Hanson had heard all she could, "We can't do that. We can't take that
away from him!"

Dr. Bailey kept his calm, "If we don't perform this surgery, Zac will
eventually lose the use of his hands anyway, except it will be much longer
and more drawn out. The pain will increase tenfold and there's a good
chance that he could lose feeling in not only his hands, but also his arms
up to the elbows. This surgery will save him a huge amount of suffering."

My mind was spinning but I managed to ask, "He's going to need special
care, isn't he?"

"Yes, he will. He'll need assistance in essentially every task in which he
uses his hands until he feels comfortable with familiarizing himself with
alternate methods. There are certain activities that can be accommodated
such as using water faucets and other household facilities. He can learn
to use wrist braces that will help him eat and drink and write. It is a
highly inconvenient condition but it isn't as crippling as it immediately
might seem."

Mrs. Hanson looked at me, "I don't think he'd want anyone else to help
him, Reid."

I sighed and leaned forward on my knees, realizing what she meant. If
there was one situation that would prove to them that I was serious about
my feelings for Zac, this was it. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I knew
it was Mrs. Hanson. We all knew what was going to have to happen. There
was no other choice. There was no way that Zac could be let to feel such
horrifying pain as his hands gave out on him. It wasn't civilized.

"How soon can we have the operation performed?" Mr. Hanson asked.

"Our resident pediatric surgeon is currently away. The soonest that we can
have the procedure done is the day after tomorrow. I'll prescribe a
painkiller for Zac that will keep him set until the operation. It'll also
give him a little time to get used to the idea... I do realize it isn't much
but the sooner we can do this, the sooner his pain will be relieved."

*      *      *      *      *

	The clock at the side of Zac's bed said it was 6:49 in the morning. In
just a few hours, Zac would be going under the knife to have his hands
hacked into. There was some sort of weird shame I was feeling because it
felt like I had let Zac down. It was as if entering into a relationship
with him had bestowed upon me a very special responsibility. If I couldn't
keep the kid from losing the use of his hands, what good was I to him?
There way I could feel like I still deserved having Zac if I couldn't keep
him at least that safe. Every time I heard "it wasn't your fault" or
"there's no way anyone could have predicted..." it just made me want to tear
my hair out.

	Someone had overworked his hands. There was a very specific cause for
what had happened and it had been the result of overworking his wrists and
hands before they were finished growing. His hands still looked perfectly
normal from the outside. There was no swelling, no discoloration... but
inside, they were ravaged. It may not have been my fault but it sure as
hell had been the result of someone's poor judgment. My sense of loyalty
kept me from blaming his parents but I knew that deep down, they had their
share of responsibility for it. I didn't let it show because I could tell
they both felt it. They knew that Zac had been over stressed.

	It was funny because Taylor had said to me that out of everyone involved,
I was probably the least to blame for what had happened to Zac. My logical
brain wanted to badly to believe him but there was still a part of me that
just felt like it was my fault. It was hard to keep from mentally berating
myself. Everytime I felt it begin to rise up, I pushed it back down and
reminded myself that it wasn't about me. Zac needed me. The one positive
aspect was that it seemed as though Mr. and Mrs. Hanson had actually
started to warm up to me. They had let me be the first person to see Zac
and had, by and large, left me alone with him when he needed someone to
cry to. I could tell that this was going to be my chance to show them that
I wasn't going to hurt Zac. It was going to be my chance to prove myself
to them.

	I felt Zac squirm against me under the covers. He shifted his head on my
chest and I felt him breathing softly and from the speed of his breathing,
I could tell he was awake. We laid there for several seconds and didn't
say anything. He and I had never really felt awkward around each other,
not even when he caught me trying to break into their tour bus... we had
always been comfortable together. It was frustrating that we could be so
close together and still have to struggle for something to say.

	"Reid, I'm scared." His voice was soft and beautiful in the darkness.

The only thing about his voice that was less than perfect was the heavy,
almost suffocating layer of fear that covered his words. I had heard him
say those three words quite a bit in the past two days and every time I
heard it, it still sent a pang right into my heart. He had been prescribed
some pretty heavy muscle relaxants and against my conscience, I had hoped
it would dull his senses and keep him from thinking too hard. It hadn't.
It had just alleviated the immediate pain in his hands.

More disturbing for everyone was the quiet. Zac had said maybe five words
altogether in the two days since the visit to the emergency room. It was
the kind of fear that couldn't be compared to anything that could be
immediately imagined. Zac had been walking around like a zombie. He had
barely eaten anything and had only gotten out of bed to use the bathroom.
The only breaks in the silence were when he would break down and all the
fear would let itself out. We were all worried that he had been scarred
permanently by the experience and the simple notion of that was scarier
than any man made object of intimidation.

Thankfully, as the evening before the surgery day went on, Zac seemed to
brighten up a bit. It seemed as though he was realizing how much he had
and it was a nice thing to see. I was his willing accomplice as he played
a few final games of Knockout Kings 2000, whipping my ass beet red in the
process and not missing every opportunity to gloat over it. I was
surprised when he asked his mom if he could feed his baby sister. It was
that tender side that he'd been showing me more and more of.

"It's going to be OK." I said softly and kissed him on the forehead, and I
felt his arms tighten a bit around my midsection.

"Reid... when they wake me up, are you gonna be there?" His unsteadiness was
more than a bit disconcerting.

"Of course I'll be there." I said and stroked his soft hair as
reassuringly as I could.

"I heard my mom tell Ike that if you stay and take care of me, she'll know
that you're for real."

"Well, I kinda figured that." I chuckled and rubbed his back, still
getting a thrill from how muscular he was.

"What are we gonna do with all our new free time?" Zac said in a pouty
voice.

"What do you mean?"

"I spent at least twenty hours a week jerking off and that doesn't count
the time we spend mating." He rolled over on top of me and kissed me, his
hot mouth sending waves of pleasure from my head down to my toes. Part of
the pleasure came from being so relieved that he wasn't TOO freaked out.

"Mmmm... At least you're in good spirits." I barely got the last words out
before he kissed me again.

He pulled back and shrugged, "Hey, it's God's plan. I can't get too pissed
at the guy because he gave you me."

"This is kind of different."

He didn't say anything for a few seconds, "I know... I just feel weird."

"I know you do."

All I could do was hold him. He felt so warm and so alive against me but
there was that big cloud hanging over him. Things were going to be really
different and there was really no way to know exactly how different it
would be. There were so many possible scenarios but none were at all
clear. It was so random. Like playing Russian Roulette with post-op
recovery conditions. A 15 year old boy shouldn't be forced to adjust to
life without his hands and anyone who felt differently didn't deserve to
live in a world with impressionable youth.

Through the one window in Zac's room, I could see the sky beginning to
light up. It was gray and cloudy and the weather couldn't be any more
fitting for the situation. My fingers drummed softly on Zac's shoulder as
I felt his heart beating and his soft breath against my neck. His fingers
wrapped around the blanket and then relaxed as he was using every
opportunity he had left to use his hands. I looked up at the ceiling and
squinted my eyes, keeping myself gentle but still strong because even
though he wasn't actively holding me, Zac was still relying on me as he
laid there on top of me.

7:03 in the AM...

I lifted up my hand and studied it in the dim light of the room. Just
letting my eyes wander over the backs of my fingers, and I was pretty
happy with how much they had recovered. What had once been scarred and
scratched actually looked pretty respectable and nice. That's what five
months around rock stars and the entertainment industry will do to you.
It'll take your hands that you had fought your way up the hill with and
transform them into smooth, unused perfection.

Zac had told me that he had never once used his hands in a real, honest to
God fight. Myself, on the other hand, had been in so many fights before
that day that I couldn't even estimate how many broken bones my fists had
caused. Zac had only used his hands for drumming and drawing and making
goofy faces. Mine had been used to destroy and defend. Yet, here we were.
Zac was going to lose his hands while mine were still in perfect working
order. Something about this whole thing didn't really strike me as fair.

"Hey..." Zac said softly and he began to kiss my neck gently.

"Hmm?" I murmured and rested my cheek against the top of his head.

"I want to jerk off one last time." He was kissing my neck harder now and
slowly swiping his tongue over my adam's apple.

There wasn't much else that could be said. Zac sat up and stretched his
arms up over his head and in the sparse light, I could see goosebumps
standing up on the exposed skin of his shoulders and upper arms. My hand
crept up and rubbed his back under the red tank top he was wearing as he
reached down and massaged the morning hard-on inside his shorts. Zac's
bed, which was basically a double mattress on the floor, began to smell of
desire and sleep induced musk as he laid back down and pulled the tank top
up and off. The sight of his hard nipples was almost too tempting for me
to stand.

He took my face into his hand and gently guided me down to the waistband
of the black swimsuit he'd slept in. I knew that his primary aim was to
bring himself to orgasm with some extra curricular stimulation from
myself, which suited me just fine. Hooking my index fingers in the
waistband of his shorts, I pulled them down slowly and his plump erection
sprung upwards and slapped his stomach with a soft whap. Suddenly freed,
it throbbed and a thin glob of precum slid down his shaft.

We had done mutual masturbation a few times before, but never had Zac
jerked off with it being the sole focus of our sexual intercourse. There
were lots of things about Zac that I found cute, but one of the weirder
things that always charmed me was his left handedness. I watched as his
fingers curled around the shaft and stroked slowly, and the hot scent of
his sweet precum caught my nose. My urge was to swallow him whole, but I
controlled it and kissed both of his plump balls softly.

Zac moaned softly as his strokes began to speed up and he played with his
foreskin, rubbing the precum over the head of his cock. My kisses turned
into soft suckling as I gave each ball a warm toungebath, tasting the
pleasure-fueled musk that was exuding from his pores. His legs shivered
and I nibbled his thighs, drawing another soft moan as Zac continued to
stroke, trying to savor every sensation. Sweat was standing out on his
brow and trickling down his cheeks as he masturbated, and a thin stream of
precum was flowing down the front of his hand.

My mouth watered at the sight. My tongue snaked out and licked up the
stream off his fingers and he let out another moan and thrust his hips,
and my tongue licked sparingly in-between his fingers and I could feel the
hot, stretched skin of his shaft on my tastebuds. The feeling of his warm
thigh against my cheek felt amazing. The fingers of his right hand
traveled up to his chest and he played with his nipples, tweaking them and
stroking them teasingly.

>From the sound of his gasps and whimpers, there wasn't going to be much
more waiting. Zac's foot pressed against my leg and I felt his toes
curling and pulling the sheet between them. I looked up and began to lick
the barely exposed head of his dick, and above it, I could see his face.
His eyes were closed and he was biting his lower lip, a look of intense
pleasure on his face. He released his lips and they looked so invitingly
puffy and stimulated.

Zac opened his eyes and looked at me, smiling slightly as he jerked his
chin upwards and beckoned me forth. I crawled up to him, gently rubbing my
fingertips up the length of his naked body until I was beside him, my lips
brushing his cheek. He turned his head to side and I felt his hand speed
up as we kissed, his hot lips pressing against mine. The tips of our
tongues touched as he breathed hard into my mouth and he moaned, but his
breath caught in his throat. His body went rigid as I wrapped my hand
around his as he finished himself off. Even though his hand, I could feel
his cock swell and the hot, thick splatter of his cum as it rained down.

He groaned several times into my mouth and his lips sealed around my
tongue as he shot his load all over us both. I felt his leg jerk several
times and his balls constricted against the bottom of my hand. They felt
so hot and moist as they emptied, squeezing out their precious white seed.
His chest heaved and eventually, the groans stopped as his body went limp
and from the feeling of him against me, I could tell it had been a truly
grand finale. The side of my nose rubbed against his forehead and I could
feel the beads of sweat and stray wisps of hair as I kissed his hairline
gently, doing my best to help him calm down.

We laid there for a few minutes as he recovered, his breathing slowing
down as he gave himself several slow draining strokes and milked the last
of his cum. The air in the room was chillier than our horniness had
allowed us to realize and Zac shivered slightly, and goosebumps stood up
on his chest. I pulled the comforter and the blankets up over us but not
after mopping him off with one of the stray T-shirts that decorated his
room. We laid back down under the covers and Zac draped his arm over me
and cuddled against me. He was still breathing hard.

"Hi there." He gasped and smiled primly.

"Feel better?" I asked and kissed his bicep.

He murmured something in the affirmative. There wasn't any way I could
blame him for being more than a little nervous. My hand reached up and
stroked his ruffled hair gently as I smoothed the dark streaks that seemed
more visible in the growing light. I had only one wish at that point and
it was that whatever God had done to Zac, I wished that he would put it
into me. It was 7:32 in the morning and he had about three hours until he
would lose the chance. He could just give me the arthritis and I would go
under the knife and Zac wouldn't lose his musical career. It just sounded
like the fairest thing to do.

Zac went back to sleep a few minutes later but I stayed awake for the next
hour until his mom came to wake us up. We showered, but it wasn't our
usual playful, grab ass filled shower. Neither was getting dressed, which
didn't seem right due to the lack of scrotum tickling and last second
blowjobs before the underwear got put on. They told Zac to wear whatever
would be comfortable. I watched him after he had dressed and he just sat
on his bed looking down at his hands. You still have time, God... Put it
into me and everything will be cool.

Then we went to the hospital. Thankfully, for our collective sanity's
sake, they were performing the surgery in a different section with a
properly heated waiting room. They had a nice living room set with some
magazines that were actually current and didn't have to do with prostate
cancer. Just like our first hospital visit, the silence was woefully
awkward between Zac's parents and myself. It was frustrating because it
didn't feel like my continued presence had proven anything but then again,
it was to be expected that things would be weird considering the
circumstances.

Zac had been taken into the surgery prep center and all we could do was
wait. They had to check him out and make sure he was fit for surgery, or
so the nurse had said. She also said that we would get to see him just
before they took him into the OR. I wasn't sure if I should politely step
back so his mom and dad could see him or what. Part of me was worried that
he wouldn't be coming back to me and for that reason, I wanted to see him.
I wanted to see him and hug him and kiss him one more time just in case.

There wasn't much for me to do in the waiting room. All the issues of
People Weekly had their crossword puzzles filled out and there was no TV
in the waiting room. The vending machines didn't look too appetizing and
trying to start a conversation with either parent was enough to turn me
white as a sheet. Taylor had said he would come later which gave me
someone I could talk to but it wasn't quite later yet. Gnawing my own
fingers off from nervousness didn't seem too productive, either.

I began to drift off to sleep when I heard a voice, "Zac is going into
surgery. You can see him for just a few seconds."

My head bobbed up and I saw a nurse in blue OR scrubs standing there. I
followed Mr. and Mrs. Hanson into the operating area, just far enough
behind to not look very prominent. After all, I was the good friend of the
patient. The nurse ushered them through two double doors and told me to
wait outside. My back leaned against the wall as my nose caught the
sterile scent of the hallway and there were no screams, which made me feel
reassured. I sighed and rubbed my forehead as I waited. The buzz of the
fluorescent lights... like the angels up above...

My body relaxed and when I felt a hand on my arm, I jumped. It was Mrs.
Hanson.

"He wants to see you." She said and smiled warmly.

"Thanks." I took a deep breath and went back through the double doors.

The nurse met me halfway and led me down the hall, and I tried not to look
at the walls around me. If there were any awareness of the situation, I'd
lose all self-control and end up crying like a baby. The only thing I
registered was the sound of the floor under my feet as she led me into the
room. As I walked, I kept telling God that he still had time. He still had
time to save Zac and let me take the hit instead. But nothing. Nothing as
she led me into the room. Once I was inside, all I saw was the stretcher
where Zac was laying.

I walked over tentatively and looked down at him. He looked like an angel.
They had held his hair back with a white, hairnet style bonnet and he was
wearing a white hospital gown. Even the sheets on the gurney were white.
It was very fitting for an angel like him. He turned his head to the side
and looked up at me dreamily and I could tell they had started the
anesthesia.

"Hey." He said softly.

"Hey, how do you feel?" I said and leaned over, taking in the contours of
his face.

"I'm hungry." He hadn't been allowed to eat anything since the day before,
which had been torturous.

You still have time, God, I said silently to myself. I reached out and
stroked his cheek with my index finger, "When you get out of here, I'll
make sure you get fed."

He smiled, "You're gonna be here to feed me, right?"

I smiled back and my stomach felt that warm fluttery feeling of love,
"Yeah, Zac. I'll be here."

There was a few seconds of silence before his hand reached out from under
the sheet and slipped easily into mine. His fingers squeezed my hand
feebly and my soul shook. He was using his last strength in his hands to
reach out to me. I meant that much to him and it was such an amazing
feeling. It felt like I had finally connected with someone for real. Like
I had finally found love. My eyes felt damp and I could feel tears rolling
down my cheeks but I didn't care.

"I love you, Reid." Zac said softly and stroked the side of my hand with
his thumb.

I sniffled and leaned down and kissed him tenderly on the lips. The nurse
came back in the room and told me it was time to go. Pulling away from him
had to be the hardest thing I'd ever done as I kept telling God that he
still had a chance. Zac smiled and winked wryly, which had the same effect
on me that it'd had the first time he'd done it. It made me feel weak in
the knees.

"I love you, Zac." I said and kissed him on the forehead.

Then they wheeled him away. Just like that. I walked out the doors and
back into the waiting room, still urging God to do the right thing and
give the disease to me. But he didn't listen. My hands didn't start
hurting like hell even as the minutes wore on and rain began to fall
outside. All logic said that Zac was already in surgery but I still kept
hoping that something would intervene. After a certain point, I was even
open to the idea of it not being God, which was somewhat reckless. But no
more reckless than pacing around a hospital waiting room. It felt like a
rut was being worn under my shoes as I paced around, looking out the
window for anything to distract me.

My neck felt like it had been tenderized with a jackhammer and my sinus
had begun to ache. But the hands... they were just fine. Nothing wrong with
my hands. Why would there be anything wrong with my hands? They weren't
needed for anything important. It was only fair to take away a pair of
hands that meant a great deal to so many people. You can't deny that, can
you? It would be just wrong to cripple the hands of someone who didn't
need them. But to take away the hands of a 15 year old boy who relied on
his hands to live out his dream... now that's just fine.

As much as they tried to stay away, my eyes kept wandering over to the
exit of the hospital. I had no intention of leaving but something inside
me kept looking over to them and wondering what would happen if I just
left right then and there. It wouldn't be hard to run out faster than
anyone could catch me. Just run right out of here and go back living in
squalor and stealing to make ends meet. Just leave Zac behind and let him
deal with his own problems. Just leave the love of my life. But then
again, someone had told me that real men don't leave.

*      *      *      *      *

The rain kept falling. The window was cold against my forehead and the sky
was gray and drizzly as I looked out at it from inside the hospital. The
waiting room was positioned with a nice view of the parking lot below and
the other clinics that surrounded the establishment. Rain was falling into
the puddles. Making little whirlpools. A gray, rainy June day that fit the
mood. It fit the mood but something about it would have been scarier if it
were sunny and nice out. It would have been more twisted.

Damn, this shitty hospital vending machine chicken soup. At that moment, I
would have killed and fought a thousand wars just for one cup of coffee or
ice cold bottle of Pepsi. But nope... the lack of a spleen and gall bladder
means no caffeine for Reid. Reid can only drink pulp free orange juice,
acidophilus milk, and filtered water. Anything else is... iffy. God damn it,
for one whom loves orange juice with extra pulp it was hellish. But Zac
had dulled the pain. I would have drunk turpentine so long as I could be
in his arms while I did it.

"A 10 letter word for 'pleasing'..."

"I don't know..."

"Come on. You're supposed to be good at these things."

My mind was seeing a lot of things but pleasing wasn't one of them. Still,
I was glad that Taylor was there and wasn't being deterred by my nervous
agitation. We were keeping each other sane, really. Since my inclusion
into their household, Taylor had stepped back more gracefully than I could
have imagined and passed me the mantle of being Zac's "protector". The
first thing I'd noticed was how close they were. The bond of growing up in
the limelight with nothing immediate to count on but each other is a very
amalgamating thing. Or so I'd observed. Hell, I had no idea or ability to
judge from my pre-Hanson experiences.

"OK... we'll try another one." Tay said and scanned the puzzle. I noticed he
chewed slightly on his lower lip nervously.

He was pretty worried. He had stopped jerking his right leg at light
speed, which was a piece of good fortune. But he couldn't stop tapping his
fingers on the arm of the chair or on his knee. Neither could he stop
himself from running his hand through his hair every chance he got. Maybe
he had a right to be more worried than I did. Zac had told me that for all
his life, Tay had been his "male role model". It made some sense
considering the number of kids in the family would occupy their dad and it
all made me more forgiving towards Tay when he felt the need to clear his
throat or suck his teeth.

"OK, how 'bout this..." He shifted in his chair and crossed his legs, "10
down. Director of original 'Gone In 60 Seconds'?"

"How many letters?" I managed one more sip of the soup before tossing it
out.

"Seven letters."

I fell back into the chair next to him and thought, "Halicki. Does that
fit?"

"Indeed it does," He filled in the letters and closed the magazine, "We're
done with that one."

My sinuses began to pound again and I tried to fight it off as Tay sighed
and crossed his arms. There wasn't any muzak playing over the speakers.
There weren't any other sounds in the waiting room, really. Myself, Tay,
their parents and the security guard were the only people there. I had
kind of hoped that Isaac would get back from his trip to France in time
but he had found out so suddenly that it was an unrealistic hope. The
smaller the crowd the better, really.

News of what was happening had broke pretty quick from some source inside
the hospital. MTV had made a passing mention of it but nothing that would
give any indication that they were actually, you know, concerned about
Zac. Rumor had it that a flower basket had been sent but it was only a
rumor. It was all I had to pass the time as we sat there and waited for
the surgery to conclude. And it wasn't hurrying, that's for sure. But
that's a good thing because if they hurried, something might go wrong.

"Jeez... were are they?" Tay asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't know. They're your parents." I mumbled and assumed the familiar
position of leaning forward and rubbing my eyes.

"Don't say that so loud. Seriously, how long does it take to pick up a
prescription for freakin' Percocet?"

"They probably stopped to make out." I smiled a little.

"OK, don't say that."

The poor kid, he didn't like hearing about his parents doing the nasty any
more than anyone else. He was just like everyone else. So was Zac. And so
was I. God damn, what the hell had happened? My eye sockets felt as though
they were swelling like throbbing balloons. Stress was something I'd never
been very well equipped to deal with and all the headway I'd made over the
past few months didn't seem to matter much right then and there. Right
then on a rainy June morning, right there in a pediatric surgery facility
in Oklahoma.

Time was still refusing to pass at a civilized rate. The hands on the
clock moved at a stone aged pace with no word from the hospital staff as
to the surgical progress. We sat there long enough to watch the desk clerk
refill her coffee cup about ten times and each time, my mouth watered.
Taylor seemed to understand a bit and didn't have any coffee and I
appreciated it. He was very considerate. Not going to public school along
with learning to share early on had allowed him to retain a certain level
of respectfulness and selflessness that you didn't get from most people.

It was obvious from getting to know both Taylor and Isaac that Zac had
grown up looking to them as role models and it had shaped him in a big
way. They had been very positive influences on Zac. Taylor, with his
compassion and sweetness, and Isaac with his maturity and positive out
look. Their family was very special. A loving, stable family. But all the
love and affection in the world couldn't stop this from happening.

I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't notice Taylor holding out a
bottle of water. My mind snapped back to reality and took the bottle from
him, only giving him a slightly un-deathbedly look in return. The water
was safe and I could taste it being so. Nothing to harm my carefully
rebuilt digestive tract. God knows nothing could ever happen to me.

The morning went on and eventually turned to early afternoon. Taylor went
home to check on the baby-sitter and his younger siblings, giving me some
welcome alone time to think. There wasn't much there to pass the time and
the only thing I took solace in was that if something went horribly wrong,
they'd let us know and they hadn't said anything. Yet. So it was a good
thing. At some point, the parents came back and I couldn't tell one way or
another if they'd stopped to make out or anything but the smart money said
they hadn't. They had brought back sandwiches from the cafeteria and as
much as I tried, I wasn't real hungry. Each bite felt like it was made of
glue and sawdust, even though it tasted really pretty good. No sense in
making myself sick but of course, sense wasn't rearing its welcome head in
this situation.

When the chair felt like it was sticking to my ass like flypaper, I got up
and walked around the waiting room. Nothing really changed each time I did
it but I still did it. The rain stopped and the day turned out to be quite
nice and it made me smile in a bitterly justified way. From my view
outside the window, the parking lot had filled up a little as the day went
on and then, in a moment of irony, a rainbow was visible out beyond the
trees that lined the property. A beautiful rainbow. My body felt numb and
I learned against the windowsill, feeling something but not exactly sure
what it was.

My forehead rested against the cool metal frame and I closed my eyes. The
sound of sudden footsteps on the polished floor made me jerk my head up,
trying to shake off the drowsiness. Dr. Bailey was talking to Mr. and Mrs.
Hanson over by the door to the OR. He was dressed in those lovely blue
scrubs that the nurse had worn earlier. From the look on his face, nothing
had gone wrong and he actually looked pretty pleased. My heart felt warm
with relief and my body shuddered... but then I remembered that there was
still a long road ahead.

I rested my head against the frame again and felt a lump of reprieve in my
throat. Even though he hadn't done what was best, God had the good sense
to let Zac come through the surgery without any major complications. My
lungs released and a rickety breath came out. The sense of relief washing
over me was so complete that I didn't hear the nurse saying my name the
first two times.

"Huh... yeah?" I said, turning around and breathing deeply.

"Zac wants to see you." She said, and from the look she was giving me, I
knew that she knew about... us.

"What about-- wait... what about his parents?" I stuttered, trying to come
up with a way to keep her from thinking I had some sort of mind control,
brainwashing thing going on.

She smiled, "They're all right with it. He's in recovery."

Wordlessly, my feet moved and I followed her. Against my own self-control,
my eyes drifted over to the exit door one last time and my feet stopped.
If I went in there and he saw me, I was committing pretty much the rest of
my life to being with him and helping him get better. It all seemed to go
in slow motion as my eyes narrowed and looked at the lighted green
letters. Everything I'd known in my upbringing told me to leave.
Everything the male role models in my life had taught me said to walk out
the door and get the hell away. It told me I was getting myself into a
situation that I wasn't smart enough to deal with. It kept telling me what
to do...

*      *      *      *      *

Zac heard the doctor very faintly. Some weird thing made his muscles tense
and for a second, he wondered if they didn't give him enough of that sleep
stuff and he was still awake. Like on Dateline when he and Tay had heard
about the people who were actually awake and felt everything as they got
cut into. Maybe they hadn't done it yet... but he couldn't move. Then he
felt the doctor speaking to him a little louder and he knew it was done.
But how could it be done? He was only out for a second.

"Zac, can you hear me?"

He opened his eyes slowly and he felt like he was floating. Whatever room
he was in was dim and quiet and warm. The blankets on top of him felt
heavy as lead at first but as the lightheadedness left him, they didn't
feel so heavy. Silently, he did a mental inventory to make sure he was
still in working order. His head and his eyes moved OK, so did his legs
and arms. In his head, Zac recited the words to the Neo-Morpheus
conversation and remembered it perfectly. He remembered everything and
knew they didn't make some mistake and cut into his brain somehow.

"Huh?" He said weakly and tried to rub his eyes... then he remembered.

"OK, Zac. Are you feeling any pain in your hands?"

Zac shook his head and tried to re-alert himself, "No... I can't feel my
hands at all..."

"All right. That's very normal. Are you feeling nauseated?"

"No... just real dizzy..."

"All right. We had to sedate you heavily," He watched the doctor hold up a
small flashlight, "I'm going to check your pupils. Don't worry."

Zac flinched slightly as the doctor checked his eyes and the nurse behind
him wrote something on a clipboard. While they did so, Zac held up his
hands as best he could and looked at them. His wrists and palms had been
wrapped in heavy white gauze and the bandaging was so thick he couldn't
move his fingers. But it's not like he could move them if he wanted to.
The sedation wore off as he realized the situation and bit his lip,
wanting to see someone. He wanted to see someone who could make him feel
better.

*      *      *      *      *

The rain clung to my coat as my fingers tried to turn the key. After a few
tries in the drizzling rain, the lock finally turned and my nose was
greeted by the musty, sweaty smell of a bachelor pad. I smiled and shook
the rain my clothing as I walked into the apartment and dropped my bag on
the floor, hearing the wet thud resound off the walls. Just being home
made me feel a lot less guilty. It just made me feel so much more secure.
No wild drummers with arthritis could ever get to me again.

I ran my fingers through the wet slick of my hair and walked over to the
telephone and hit the playback button on the answering machine. Part of me
was worried that I'd get some threatening call but I knew that they
weren't that stupid. They had left the choice up to me and I'd made my
choice. Luckily, there weren't any messages from Tulsa. Just messages from
my coworkers and friends who had heard that I was heading home and it made
me smile. I yawned and opened the fridge, scanning for something
airtightly sealed that couldn't have spoiled.

Damn, someone needs to go shopping, I thought. Finally, there was a can of
Pepsi One that no one had drank yet, allowing me something cold and with
caffeine and the first few sips made me shiver. Good, nourishing drink. I
sat down on the couch and looked out the solitary deck window into the
gray rainy day. At least I still had my freedom, I told myself. Not tied
down to anyone, not stuck caring for someone, not stuck hiding for the
rest of your life. You're now free to find someone who you can kiss and
hold hands with in public with no fear of the paparazzi.

But yet, I still wondered. Maybe I'd made the wrong decision. Maybe I
should have stayed there and been nothing more than a servant to a, for
all intents and purposes, cripple. His family can deal with him. They can
get his food and help him scratch his ass. It's not my problem. It never
was. I never asked for him to help me and I never asked for him to fall in
love with me. He did it all. He did everything. It wasn't me so I had no
responsibility towards him. The feelings were completely one way.

You're free, I thought to myself and reached for the TV controller and
flicked the "on" button. The TV crackled and flickered to life after about
six months of non-use. There wasn't anything on, which wasn't exactly what
I needed. I didn't need to be alone with my thoughts were I could convince
myself that I'd made the wrong decision.

The rain pelted the roof and I could see it falling into slivery puddles
out on the small concrete deck. The remote control fell from my hand and
my head rested back against the couch, my eyes focused on the ceiling. All
the little dots started to run together and my mouth felt dry and pasty. A
sip of the soda didn't help at all. Rubbing my face briskly didn't help
either and a sick knot of just plain rancidness tore at my stomach.

But then I remembered.

He was just a long haired, weird looking, lunatic with big lips, a flabby
torso, and an annoying personality. You never loved him! He loved you. And
that annoying song got stuck in your head. You are better off without him.
I smiled and sighed, realizing that it was all true. Even at my ripe old
age of 19, I didn't need to commit to him. Even though he made you so
happy but that doesn't matter. You're a free man and you don't have to
care for him...

Reid...

Huh...

Reid... he's in... here...

*      *      *      *      *

The nurse's voice pulled my eyes away from the exit sign and back into
reality and out of my little alternate universe. Any desire or notion that
I had of leaving was stamped out quicker than a forest fire right then and
there. I shook my head and cursed myself only a little bit for even
considering the idea. If I left Zac, I didn't deserve to live. If I
couldn't recognize such an incredible gift, then I didn't deserve to even
be there.

"Yeah," I said and turned towards the door to the recovery wing, "Let's
go."

The point of no return. The nurse led me through a different door and down
a very sterile, very white hallway with white tiling. This hospital had a
thing for the white décor. All white. The whiteness almost hurt my eyes as
I tried to prepare myself for seeing him. I kept telling myself that he'd
only had work done on his hands and he'd look pretty much the same. But my
hands still started to shake and I couldn't stop it. It was damned
annoying. The sweat running down my sides from my armpits wasn't really
that nice either.

The nurse stopped, "He's in there. Can I trust you to not overexcite him?"

I felt the nonconformist well up inside me, "Well, sure. Considering that
I'm 6 years old and need to be reminded of that sort of thing."

She seemed to empathize, "I know you'll do OK."

She held the door open and I walked in, bracing myself for the worst. The
room was dim and it felt warm and comfortable, which slightly put me at
ease as I walked in. It only took a second before I saw Zac and my face
must have relaxed tenfold. He was lying under the covers and his eyes were
closed softly. The sight of him made me feel weak in the knees even though
his face was somewhat telling of the rigors of surgery. His face was pale
and his lips looked a little thinner and his hair seemed a bit scraggly,
which seemed normal.

I walked over and sat down slowly in the chair next to his bed. I couldn't
help but smile and look at him as he lay there and for the first time, I
saw his hands. They were wrapped in a pretty thick layer of gauze and
medical bandaging. Each of his fingers had been spun in a layer of the
gauze as well and I realized that even if he could curl them, he wouldn't
be able to yet. His fingertips were a little flushed and in the dim light,
the sparse hairs on his forearms glinted slightly and in my stomach, I
felt a familiar flutter.

I leaned in and kissed his cheek several times and I felt him move
slightly. When I sat back, he turned his head and opened his eyes slowly...
and then he smiled. My heart melted, recongealed, and melted again about
five times over. My hand reached out and gently rested on his cheek and
the skin felt quite warm and soft. I didn't know what to say.

"Hey." He said faintly.

"How do you feel?"

"Hungry." He said and smiled again.

I laughed softly, "When you wake up again, you can eat as much as you
want."

"You're still gonna help me eat?"

"I'm going to help you however you need me to help you." I said and held
his arm.

We didn't need to say anything else. After a few minutes, I kissed him and
it felt just as sweet and just as wonderful as it ever had before. He
didn't need hands to kiss. We didn't need hands to know that we were meant
to be together. It was just a feeling that we had and it was a feeling
that we couldn't deny. Just knowing that I had stayed seemed to give us
both a huge burst of confidence. Even when the doctor came back in to
resedate him, it didn't seem to matter. We both knew that I'd be there
when he woke up again... and when he woke up in his bed and when he knew he
was safe, we knew that I'd be there.

To Be Continued...