Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Ryan was sitting at the counter eating Corn Flakes when Seth shuffled into the kitchen.

"You all right, man? You look pretty rough," Ryan shoveled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Ryan, however tactless, was essentially correct. 

Dark circles hugged Seth's eyes, his hair had gone from uncontrollable to obscene, and his face was a ghostly shade of white. That he was staggering into the kitchen in only a robe, t-shirt and boxers added to the portrait of someone who was not doing so hot that morning. 

It also presented something of a problem, as they'd need to be out the door in a few minutes if they hoped to get to school on time. 

"You're a real sweet talker, you know that, Atwood?" Seth grumbled, scooping a handful of cereal out of the box, then dropping it back in." Actually, I'm not feeling all that great today, but let's keep that between us, huh?"

"You pretend to be sick on a regular basis. The one day you're actually sick and you want to go to school?" Ryan’s eyes narrowed.

"That, my friend, was before Summer and I started having sex on a semi-regular basis." Seth slumped down onto the stool beside Ryan. "I suppose we're dating, but considering the fact that she does not acknowledge my existence in public, it's probably not the best idea to ditch school. You know…out of sight, out of mind?" 

"Ah." Ryan nodded. "Gotcha buddy."

"Morning boys," Sandy hustled into the kitchen, eyes trained on his watch. "Seth, you need to get dressed. We've gotta go."

"I'll wait and have Mom take me. I can be late."

"No can do, kiddo. Mom's headed out of town, remember? Big business trip for Cal and Kiki."

"Oh right." Seth frowned. His mom had been talking about the trip for awhile; he guessed he hadn't placed that it was coming up so soon.

Sandy did a double take as he caught his first real glimpse of Seth that morning.

Had Seth looked that gaunt last night?

Sandy had to remind himself to keep his concern in check. Seth had a tendency to bristle when Sandy and Kirsten were too overprotective of him. 

Unless, of course, he could use it to his advantage. 

"You feeling okay, Seth?" Sandy asked cautiously. "You don't look so good."

"I'm really feeling the love this morning," Seth drummed his fingers on the counter, lips pressing into an annoyed smile.  "I'm fine," he said. 

"You sure?" Sandy placed the back of his hand on Seth's forehead. "You feel a little warm."

Seth ducked away from Sandy's hand. "I'm fine.”

"You could stay home today. I could ditch work…we'll make a day of it. Maybe play some video games." Sandy grinned, starting to enjoy the idea of letting go of work for the day to hang out with his younger son.

"Nah." Seth yawned. "I have an English test I can't afford to miss." He paused. "And I'm fine...just tired."

"Have you been having trouble sleeping again?" 

"No." Seth stole a glance over at Ryan, trying to see if he was paying attention.

In truth, he'd been sleeping like a baby as soon as his head hit the pillow these days. Or the desk, if he was in Calculus.

Ryan watched the whole exchange, amused. Sandy or Kirsten fussing over Seth and Seth trying to get them off his back was not a rare event, but it was always rather entertaining.

"Well run up and get dressed then. We'll wait for you."

After Seth retreated from the kitchen, Sandy leveled his gaze on Ryan.

"Any particular reason why Seth, who will grab any opportunity to miss a day of school, is insisting I let him go today?"

"Are you trying to pump me for information?" Ryan raised his eyebrows at Sandy.

"Thought I'd give it a try," Sandy admitted with a grin. "But hey, if he wants to go to school for once, who am I to question it?"

Ryan lifted his mug in a cheers of agreement.

ooo

Loud pounding on the door awoke Seth with a start. 

He groaned and rolled over, trying to orient himself. 

He must've fallen asleep.

He'd never been big on the after-school nap, but lately it seemed like all he ever did anymore was go to school, come home, and collapse on his bed.

Pre-unexpected nap, he'd also had a bit of a headache brewing, but it had now morphed into a full-blown hangover-esque brain pounder. He cursed himself for having been too lazy to hit up the kitchen for some Tylenol before passing out.

His eyes burned and he closed them, groaning once more. 

"Seth?" More knocking. His dad's voice floated into the room. "Can I come in?" 

"Yeah," Seth called, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He started to stand up.

The room started to spin.

"Whoa," Seth whispered, reaching a hand out to steady himself on the nightstand. He blinked a few times, trying to dispel the fuzziness from his vision as he plopped back down onto his bed.

Standing up would perhaps take a bit more strategizing than usual.

His dad appeared around the corner, thankfully too late to catch the wobbly act.

"Were you asleep?" He asked, incredulous.

"Yeah." Seth yawned. "We ran laps in gym today. Needed to recover a little." He yawned again, feeling his eyes water. 

"Uh-huh." Sandy gave Seth an appraising look, probably weighing whether or not to launch into the whole parental interrogation thing. "Well, sorry to wake you, but the chicken's here."

Fried chicken for dinner.

Seth's stomach turned over just thinking about all the grease. 

"I'll uh, be right down," Seth said. "Just want to put on my face and all." 

"Don't be long, huh?" Sandy said. "There's only so long I can keep Ryan from all the drumsticks." 

ooo

Seth took a deep breath as he approached the top of the stairs. 

He'd taken a few minutes to regroup and make himself more or less presentable. 

It had been something of an uphill battle. 

Maybe Summer had a point, not wanting to associate with him in public.

"Well, look who finally decided to make an appearance," Sandy greeted him.

Seth snatched a thigh from the box and dumped it onto his plate.

"Here, have some potatoes; they're good for you," Sandy instructed, already scooping some onto his plate.

Seth grunted in reply, absentmindedly picking some skin off his chicken. His stomach clenched.

"So boys, how was school?" 

Ryan shot Sandy a meaningful look.

“Hey, with Kirsten away, someone has to ask these obligatory questions."

"It was Monday," Ryan answered, wiping some grease off his chin.

"I feel like I was there," Sandy said. He glanced over at Seth and narrowed his eyes. 

Seth's head listed forward, his eyelids slowly drooping.

Sandy jostled his arm. "Hey!"

Seth's eyes snapped open and he straightened up. "Hmm?"

"You were about to do a face-plant into your mashed potatoes there, kiddo," Sandy explained. "So tell me again that you're feeling just fine?" 

Seth rubbed his face with his hands. "I am fine. Just a little tired."

"I don't buy that, Seth," Sandy replied sternly.

"I've got a headache, okay?" Seth snapped.

"Okay then,” Sandy said. "Once you finish up with dinner, I want you to go right back up to bed. No comics. No video games. No Internet."

"Yes, Your Dictatorship," Seth grumbled, feeling his face flush.

Ryan acted pretty unfazed when his parents got all parental on him, but it was still embarrassing, having him witness Seth being sent up to bed at all of 7pm.

That Ryan was too polite to make fun of him for it didn't change the fact that he certainly noticed it, so the damage was done, as far as Seth's pride was concerned.

He could only feel grateful that his dad hadn't further insisted that he go lie down in his parents' bed, "so I can keep a closer eye on this thing." That was distinctly in the realm of possibility, so Seth felt it was better to agree to his dad's terms and not push his luck.

"You know, maybe you should go lie down in--"

"Right up to bed after dinner, got it," Seth interjected quickly. 

Being a Cohen required constant vigilance.

"Okay. And if you're still feeling sick tomorrow, you're not going to school," Sandy added, gesturing with his chicken wing for emphasis. 

"Hey, Summer might come over to comfort you," Ryan offered, looking up from his plate with a smirk. 

"Ryan, continuing with the hilarity I see." Seth stared medium sharp daggers at Ryan. "And I guess that wouldn't be so bad. Summer would probably talk to me here, in the privacy of my own home, when nobody's around to see us together." 

Sandy frowned. "She won't talk to you if other people are around?" 

“She just doesn't want to hurt my reputation by hanging all over me. You know how girls are." Seth pointedly avoided his father's gaze.

Things with Summer continued to be awkward. 

He seemed to have an open invitation to her bedroom, but when he'd tried to approach her at lunch that day, she'd very politely explained that she had somewhere she had to be and scurried off.

"Done," Seth announced a few minutes later, choking down one last spoonful of mashed potatoes. "And before you say anything, I'm gonna go upstairs, brush my teeth in light, circular strokes, and get right into bed." He paused, batting his eyelashes. "I assume someone will be up to tuck me in shortly?"

"What do you think, Ryan: let him get a face full of potatoes next time?" Sandy waggled his eyebrows at Ryan.

"Definitely," Ryan agreed, nodding solemnly.

"Your concern for your fellow man is touching," Seth called over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs.

ooo

Sandy pressed his ear up against Seth's door. 

It was part of his nighttime routine to check on each of the boys. 

"Seth?" He whispered as he opened the door, on the off chance that Seth was still awake.

"Unnnn…stop…no…" Seth writhed and kicked in his bed.

Sandy strode over quickly, perching himself on the edge of the bed.

"Shhhh…Seth..it's okay. Dad's here." Sandy started to brush the hair off Seth’s forehead, but drew back, frowning.

Seth was soaked in sweat.

Seth's body jerked, then stopped. His eyes flickered open, but they didn't seem to focus.

"D-Dad?" Seth's voice was thick and confused.

"Yeah Setheleh, it's me.”

"Weird dream," Seth explained, licking his lips. "Don't need to talk about it." He sniffed. "Ducks everywhere."

"Do you want a glass of water?" 

"No." Seth paused, exhaling a ragged breath. "Yeah, okay."

Sandy left and returned with a glass of water.

Seth took a few sips, barely lifting his head off the pillow, and then returned the glass to Sandy.

"Want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?" Sandy asked.

Seth mumbled something unintelligible. 

"Okay. I'll be right back."

Sandy returned a minute later with a damp washcloth. He applied it to Seth's forehead, and began gently mopping the sweat from his face.

Seth grunted a guttural noise that Sandy chose to take as a thanks. 

Sandy leaned forward and kissed the top of Seth's head.

"That's what I'm here for."

ooo

"Seth, hey, Seth." 

Seth groaned, eyes peeking open. 

He must have left his shades open the night before, because impossibly bright shafts of sunlight attacked his eyes. He rolled over, burying his face into his pillow.

"My retinas," he groaned.

"C'mon kiddo, wake up," Sandy ordered gently.

"No thanks, Dad-o," Seth half-yelled into his pillow.

"Just for a minute, okay? I just want to let you know what's happening, and then you can go right back to sleep." Sandy sat down on the edge of Seth's bed. "So, considering recent events, you're staying home today. No arguments. Cuz Daddy said so." Sandy mussed up Seth's hair affectionately.

Seth batted his hand away. "Don't call yourself Daddy; it's creepy." He rubbed his eyes. "And I feel better," he lied. "But fine, you've worn me down. I'll stay home."

Sandy placed a hand on Seth's forehead. "You feel pretty warm, but I'll take your temperature so we know what we're dealing with."

Seth groaned. Something about having his mom or dad jam a thermometer in his ear always felt infantilizing. It was already a struggle to maintain as much masculine dignity as he could, which--admittedly--wasn't much.

At least Ryan wouldn't witness this particular indignity.

"I'll call us in sick and take Ryan to school. Then I'll come back so we can hang out."

"You don't have to stay home with me," Seth insisted. "I can handle myself."

"Hey, without me you'd have had a face full of potatoes last night." Sandy glanced at his watch. "And anyway, I need a day off as much as you do. We'll call it a mental health day, huh?" He paused. "Plus, it'll give us a chance to discuss this thing with Summer."

"Oh god." Seth's mouth twisted into a pained grimace. "I'm going back to sleep," he grumbled. 

ooo

When Sandy got home, Seth was sitting on the couch playing Playstation, Nana Cohen's quilt draped over his shoulders.

"Couldn't get back to sleep, huh?"

"I didn't wanna miss out on prime video game time," Seth admitted sheepishly.

In truth, he could've easily fallen back to sleep, but the siren song of the Playstation was too much for him.

"I see. Making good choices as ever." Sandy crossed into the kitchen and started digging through the cabinets for the thermometer and a bottle of Motrin. He grabbed each and settled himself on the couch next to Seth.

"You're messing up my game here, man," Seth protested, as Sandy gently inserted the thermometer into Seth's ear.

Sandy ignored him. He glanced at the readout, satisfied that Seth's fever was in decidedly mild territory at 101.2. He handed Seth a cup of Motrin. 

Seth's eyes narrowed to annoyed slits, but he downed the liquid obediently, cringing and smacking his lips in disgust.

"Foul substance," he declared, shivering. He tapped a few buttons on his controller.

"I know, and you've been very brave."

"Songs will be sung of my valor." Seth's eyes never left the tv screen.

"What are you playing?" 

"Grand Theft Auto. I try not to play it when Ryan's around."

"Got any two player excitement for me?" Sandy asked hopefully.

Seth finally tore his eyes away from the screen and gave Sandy a look. He seemed to be considering something. Finally, he sighed.

"All right, Dad. You can plug in the N64." Seth rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

"All right!" A huge grin spread across Sandy's face. "It's been a long time since we've played Mario Kart." He went toward the cabinet for the older game system. "I'm sure I'll be a little rusty..."

"Making excuses in advance, as ever," Seth shot back.

"How did I raise a kid with such a smart mouth?" Sandy set to work plugging in the Nintendo 64 console.

"I'm a product of my environment?" Seth ventured.

"Now who's making excuses?" Sandy handed Seth the green controller. "You can't take the short-cut on Koopa Beach," he informed him solemnly. 

"You're just jealous because you can't do it," Seth pointed out.

"I can so do it..I just choose not to." Sandy grabbed the red controller and sat down beside Seth. "And it's unethical; none of the other drivers know about it."

"Of course. Your only objection is on moral grounds." Seth's eyebrows went up. "It has nothing to do with your wildly erratic driving style."

"Exactly, son." Sandy hit the 'power' button. "Now you're getting it." He smiled fondly at his son. 

It was nice, the easy way they could joke and talk with each other. 

It hadn't always been like that. 

Somewhere in his early middle school years, Seth had started to go quiet on his parents, spending most of his time hidden up in his room with his comic books and his drawings and his video games. 

Drawing Seth out of his room and out of his own world was no easy feat. It started with Sandy and Kirsten insisting that Seth move his video games to the living room, pointing out that there were days where they were only seeing him at mealtimes. Seth had whined and sulked and ranted about his loss of privacy and everyone constantly being in his business, but he'd gradually come to accept the new routine. He could play video games, but it was going to be in the high traffic area of the living room.

And then it was Mario Kart that had started to reopen the lines of communication between father and son. Seth never advertised that he was looking for someone to play with, but Sandy had asked if he could join him once or twice, and then once or twice more, until they'd developed something of a routine, for a time. 

Sandy was not so gifted with the video games, but he was willing to swallow his pride and pick up a controller if it meant getting closer to his son. And it had worked. While they battled it out on Rainbow Road, Sandy managed to gently delve into parts of Seth's life that had become off-limits: girls and school and his social life and how he felt about himself. Seth didn't always give much away, but Sandy felt like he started to get more regular glimpses into his son's life.

"Yo, Dad. You with me?" 

"Yeah..just thinking about stuff." Sandy cleared his throat. "I love this game," he said wistfully.

"Yeah, yeah." Seth, armed with the sneaking suspicion that his dad was getting all nostalgic on him, rolled his eyes. "Me too," he added, only a little grudgingly.

ooo

After several heated rounds and some healthy trash talking, Sandy was ready for a break.

"Are you up for some lunch?" 

"Sure." Seth snickered. "I can't believe you couldn't even place in one race. You got the lightning bolt like eight thousand times."

"That was only in Toad's Turnpike, and I would've done okay, but all those trucks kept swerving into me."

"Yeah, Dad..they were really gunning for you." Seth stood up, again without thought or strategy. 

This turned out to be a bad idea.

Which, to be fair, standing used to be a thing he could do without thought or strategy.

His head suddenly felt light, and the room was gently tilting and rocking around him. He couldn't recall that being the case earlier. Just as he felt his knees give way, he grabbed onto his dad's shoulder.

Sandy managed to awkwardly catch Seth in his arms before he could fall to the floor. He carefully maneuvered Seth back onto the couch.

"Seth? Seth? Can you hear me?" Sandy swatted lightly at Seth's face.

Seth's eyes were glazed over and out of focus. He blinked a few times, the image in front of him gradually becoming sharper. His dad's face hovered in front of him, his eyes filled with worry, concern and love, and it was all a bit much, if he was honest. He pushed Sandy's hand away. 

"Ow, yes. Not sure how slapping me in the face is supposed to help." He pushed himself up a little straighter on the couch. "I just lost my balance for a second there...sorry." Seth averted his eyes from his dad's stare.

"No, you didn't just lose your balance. You fainted." Sandy's voice was getting indignant, which was never a good sign. He was clearly headed into Lawyer Mode. "And you're shaking." 

"Am I?" Seth felt woozy. 

Sandy put a hand to Seth's forehead. "And you're burning up." His jaw set stubbornly. "We need to get you checked out."

"Aw c'mon, Dad," Seth whined. "You're making a big deal out of nothing."

"If it hadn't been for me, you would be on the floor right now. It's a good thing I took off work today."

"Great, I get to spend my day off at the doctor's office," Seth muttered. He rubbed his face with his hands, defeated, and resigned himself to letting his dad help him to the car. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Sandy sat by Seth's bedside as he slept, feeling the seconds ticking by at a glacial pace.

He remembered this from Nana Nichol's time in the cancer ward and Seth's appendix, the way that time seemed to move backwards in a hospital. 

A day could feel like a week, and the hours to wait for a test result, or for surgery to be over, or for a moment with the only doctor who seemed to know what was going on could stretch into an eternity.

He thumbed through one of Seth's comic books, idly wondering how and when his son started reading such dark stuff.

Ryan couldn't have grabbed an Archie and Jughead?

Sandy ditched the comic book and leaned toward Seth, needing contact with his son. He ran a hand through Seth's hair, smiling faintly.

It probably wasn't anything big. Seth was just under a lot of stress, and who could blame him? He had a heavy course load, a new brother, and a sort of girlfriend. He'd had only one out of those three last year.

Most of it was good, but Seth's life before Ryan and before Summer had been slower, quieter. He went to school and he came home. Sometimes he went to the comic book store. That was about it.

Stress, that was it. Seth was pushing himself too hard; he just needed to find a balance with all of the new things in his life, all the new demands on his time and energy.

Sandy sat back in his seat and crossed his arms, waiting.

oooooooooooooooooo

Ryan sat slouched on one of the waiting room chairs, biting at a hangnail.

Seth had dozed off again and Ryan had made his escape to the waiting room, saying he'd keep an eye out for Kirsten.

He figured that might be helpful, but also, Sandy was making him antsy. He kept trying to talk to him, whispering to him about school and soccer and Marissa and Ryan didn't even know what, as if Seth weren't lying in a hospital bed four feet from where they sat.

And it was that discomfort still, not knowing how to interpret the intense gleam in Sandy's eye or the way that he carefully avoided saying anything about Seth or what might be wrong with him or about the events of that day.

Ryan wasn't sure if Sandy needed him there as a welcome distraction, or if his presence was a nuisance, making him feel like he had to entertain Ryan when he had much more important things to focus on.

"Ryan?"

Ryan looked up to see Kirsten striding towards him. He stood up and stepped into her hug.

"How are you?" Kirsten asked as she broke off their hug. 

"I'm okay." Ryan cleared his throat, feeling awkward with the exchange, with Kirsten pulling out those Newport social skills, stopping to ask him how he was when she must've been anxious to see Seth.

He was the pleasantries to get through before Kirsten could go where she really wanted and needed to be.

"Have you been in to see him? How's he doing?"

Ryan nodded. "Sandy's with him now. He's lookin' pretty good." He forced a small smile, wanting to be comforting but afraid to be at the same time, as if Kirsten would be more upset if something were really wrong with Seth because he'd tried to reassure her.

"I'm sure everything's fine," Kirsten said. "You know Seth, just trying to keep things exciting." She managed a thin-lipped smile. "When he was little, he used to spike the worst fevers every time I'd leave on a business trip." She shook her head. "You can imagine how fun that was for Sandy."

"That does sound like him." Ryan ducked his head a little. "The uh, keeping things exciting part," he added awkwardly. "Um, is your dad here?" Seeing Kirsten's puzzled expression, Ryan explained. "Sandy said he might be coming...I could uh, show him to the room when he gets here."

"He had to stay behind to finish some things up. He'll be here as soon as he can." Kirsten's eyes honed in on Ryan in an appraising look. Her expression shifted into one of her subtle smiles, barely there unless you were looking for every little movement in someone's face and in their mood. 

Kirsten reached into her purse.

Ryan shifted on his feet. 

"It's been a really long day and I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast." Kirsten addressed the inside of her bag as she dug through it. "I hate to ask, but would you mind running to the cafeteria and grabbing me something? The greasier the better." 

Ryan almost smiled. He had a task to perform, some direction to go in. 

He could play waiter and then fade into the background.  

"Of course. That's probably asking for trouble with hospital food, though," Ryan offered. "The uh, the greasier the better thing."

"Use your best judgment then." Kirsten handed him a small wad of cash and then squeezed Ryan's arm warmly. "And get something for yourself, okay?" 

"I don't need anything," Ryan said quickly. 

Kirsten gave him a gently stern look. "I need to make sure both my boys are being taken care of. Don't let me worry that you're going hungry, huh?" 

"Okay." Ryan ducked his head again shyly and tucked the money into his jeans pocket. 

"Thank you." Kirsten kissed Ryan's cheek and gave his arm another squeeze before making her way to Seth's room.

ooooooooooooooooo

"Sandy."

Sandy looked up, a weary smile falling over his face.

Kirsten was a sight for sore eyes, and never had she looked more beautiful than she did right then, in her wrinkled business suit, her long blonde hair just subtly disheveled.

"Hey baby," he said, voice tired. He wrapped her in his arms and closed his eyes.

"How is he?" Kirsten whispered into Sandy's shoulder, eyes darting towards the hospital bed, where Seth was snoring quietly. 

"He's doing okay," Sandy replied, pulling back and kissing her on the head. "I think today really took it out of him."

"That might be for the best," Kirsten considered. "Less time to worry." Her fingers brushed gently over Sandy's stubble. He hadn't shaved that morning. Somehow, her mind latched onto that unimportant fact, and for a few seconds that was all she could think about. She blinked. Sandy was staring at her, concerned. She cleared her throat. "Does he seem worried?" she asked.

In a way, it would be easier if Seth was anxious, if there was mothering and soothing to focus on, if there was a need to project unwavering confidence, rather than being left to grapple with the pit of anxiety and uncertainty blooming in her own stomach. 

Sandy considered the question. "It's hard to say," he whispered, eyeing Seth to make sure he was still sleeping. "I think he's mostly channeling it into complaining."

"About what?"

"Not being able to go home, having to wear a hospital gown, the food..." Sandy trailed off with a shrug. 

Listing it out like that, it occurred to him that Seth's kvetching had focused on the mundane, that he hadn't really touched the giant needles or the physical pain or the invasiveness of the tests, all subjects that would be ripe for a kvetch. 

He's not sure why he didn't see that before.

"Mom?" Seth's voice was soft, confused, harkening back to Seth as a little boy, when he'd fall asleep somewhere strange and wake up disoriented and grumpy.

"Hey sweetie." Kirsten swooped to Seth's bedside and perched herself on the edge. She reached out and brushed a few errant curls off of his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"Clearly not at the top of my game, but there's only so long a man can maintain peak performance." Seth’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I hate to be the one to break this to you though, but your husband is a bit of a drama queen."

"Oh yeah?" Kirsten leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Seth's forehead. "I've always suspected."

"A guy trips on a loose rug one time and the man makes a whole federal case of it." Seth frowned. "Did you know that I will never again contain a complete set of bone marrow, Mom?"

Kirsten's smile wavered. 

Sandy winced. He guessed Seth had been saving his bone marrow quips for his mother, for some unimaginable reason.

"Actually, I'm not sure if that's true," Seth added. "But it definitely feels true, which is basically the same thing, if you think about it." 

"Why don't we let your dad run and get some dinner, and you can tell me all about it?" 

ooo

It was only an hour or two later that Dr. Pearson returned to Seth's room, but it felt like much longer.

It was its own kind of terrifying, a doctor knowing more about their son than they did, Sandy mused, as the doctor pulled them aside and into the hallway, as he greeted Kirsten with a smile and an outstretched hand. He watched his wife perform the usual social niceties, though he could see her chafing at the process, could see the undercurrent of impatience as she crisply noted the length of her drive to get there.

His heart clenched as the doctor invited them into a conference room across the hall to talk, unless they wanted to go back into Seth's room and let Seth be a part of the conversation.

You probably didn't get invited across the hall to hear that everything was okay.

He and Kirsten exchanged glances, silently debating whether or not to include Seth in the conversation.

It was his body and his health, and they could give him the choice on whether or not he wanted to be there, but he was also sixteen years old. It might have been unfair to even present him with a choice like that. How could he be expected to even know what he wanted?

And Seth probably didn't need to see how they would react if it turned out to be bad news.

They could have time to react and ask questions they wouldn't want to ask in front of him, and then time to pull themselves together, to figure out how to package it to Seth, how to soften it for him.

Kirsten gave him a little nod.

"Let's talk in the other room." Sandy squeezed Kirsten's hand, and they followed Dr. Pearson into the conference room.

ooo

Dr. Pearson sat across from them at a large wooden conference table, his hands folded and resting on a manila file folder.

Sandy couldn't stop staring at the file folder. He swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to reassure himself that Seth was okay, but everything happening around him suggested otherwise.

They didn't need a manila folder and a conference room to tell you that you had a healthy teenage boy.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen," Dr. Pearson began, clearing his throat. He smiled at them, too gently, too sympathetically.

Kirsten closed her eyes, heart sinking.

"Seth has leukemia."

Sandy let out the breath he'd been holding in. 

"C-cancer?" Sandy wasn't aware if the raspy, choked voice coming out of his mouth was his or not.

"You'll want a second opinion of course, and we can provide referrals to help you navigate that process. I don't want to assail you with too much information right now; I can only imagine how you're feeling..."

The doctor kept talking, seeming to strike the perfect doctorly balance of information-giving and assuring them that leukemia was treatable and beatable and that Seth seemed like a strong kid, but Sandy couldn't grasp many of the particulars of what he was saying, not over the buzzing in his ears.

There were questions, and Sandy and Kirsten answered them somehow, as best they could.

Who did they want to tell Seth? How did they want to tell Seth?

They would do it, Sandy decided, looking to Kirsten and seeing her nod of agreement. It would be better from them, not from a veritable stranger who wouldn't know how to talk to Seth, who wouldn't understand how to comfort him and how to answer his questions before he even asked them, how to answer the questions they knew he'd have but that he'd be too afraid to ask.

There was more talk of logistics, discharging Seth the following morning and more appointments and tests and procedures, with the likely course being Seth checking back into the hospital the following week.

"He'll have to stay at the hospital?" Kirsten asked. "He won't get to be home with us?"

Dr. Pearson nodded somberly, explaining that, if the tests confirmed Dr. Pearson's diagnosis, Seth's form of leukemia was considered more aggressive, and better served by at least an initial period of inpatient hospitalization.

Aggressive.

Dr. Pearson hadn't thrown around the word aggressive when he'd been assuring them of leukemia's treatability and beat-ability.

The doctor left after another expression of sympathy and reassurance that Sandy couldn't hear.

ooo

Alone in the conference room, Sandy glanced over at Kirsten. He squeezed her hand gently.

Kirsten rubbed her smooth hand over Sandy's, her fingers lightly tracing over his wedding band.

Sandy stood up and pulled Kirsten up and into his arms. He inhaled deeply.

Kirsten returned her husband's hug, resting her head against his chest. 

Neither of them said a word as they clung to each other.

ooo

Ten minutes later they emerged from the conference room, their eyes red-rimmed, but they each felt steadier, in control. They didn't leave the room until they were certain they could keep their emotions in check, until they were certain they were ready to face Seth.

There was no real sense of readiness, but it did help somewhat to be able to plan out next steps, identify concrete tasks that needed to happen. Referrals followed up on, appointments planned, school and work notified, networking to explore, who in their various circles might know which cancer expert.

And Seth needed to know.

Kirsten grabbed Sandy's arm as he reached for the doorknob to Seth's room. Sandy turned to face her, putting a hand on her waist. 

"Are you okay?" He asked.

Kirsten nodded. "We'll be okay, Sandy. All of us. We'll get through this."

Sandy pulled back a little and nodded.

"Who's going to stay with him tonight?" Kirsten rubbed his arm lightly.

"You’ve been traveling most of the day,” Sandy pointed out. “You could go home, change out of the business gear and take a bubble bath. I could stay."

The idea that she could go home and enjoy a bubble bath was fairly ludicrous, but Kirsten tried to appreciate the intent. 

"No, sweetie, you've been here all day. You must be exhausted. I'll be fine here with Seth." She paused. "And somebody has to take Ryan home." She rubbed at her forehead. "And explain all of this to him. You're better at talking to him than I am."

Sandy wasn't so sure about that, but he also knew that Kirsten was tentative with Ryan at times, underestimating her ability to connect with him. 

And underestimating their similarities, their quiet and restrained ways of expressing themselves contrasting the verbose and boisterous style of Seth and Sandy. Sandy wanted to jump in and talk everything out, but it often felt like Kirsten was better at reading between the lines, at interpreting Ryan's unblinking stares or his extended silences.

But it also wasn't lost on Sandy that Kirsten was also a mother wanting to be with her sick little boy. 

"You're probably right." Sandy sighed, leaning against the door. "So, we tell Seth now, and then I tell Ryan at home?" 

It didn't feel quite right. Sandy couldn't have previously conceived of a time when he'd have left Seth overnight in the hospital, even if Kirsten was with him. 

It was different since Ryan moved in with them, navigating another point of focus, having to divide and conquer the parenting duties: one kid going home, one kid staying in the hospital.

"Right." Kirsten sighed. “I'm scared, Sandy. I know he'll be okay, but this is going to be so much for him. He's still a baby to me."

"I know," Sandy replied quietly. "I'm scared too. But you're right. We'll all get through this, and Seth will be okay, and then we'll kill him for putting us through this."

Kirsten mustered up a smile at the bad joke and squeezed Sandy's hand.

Sandy opened the door. 

ooo

Seth looked up as the door opened. 

A nurse had kicked Ryan out when visitor's hours had ended a few hours earlier, so he'd been on his landmark fourth read-through of Legion when his parents had left to talk to the doctor. 

That they'd been gone for twenty minutes wasn't exactly comforting, but it took all of one look at his parents' puffy eyes and ashen faces to confirm that something was wrong. He felt his heart start to pound in his chest and instinctively reached for Captain Oats, his hand closing around the plastic horse's midsection.

Sandy saw a brief flicker of fear on Seth's face, which quickly melted into a neutral expression. 

"So what's the verdict?" Seth tried to sound casual, but he heard his own voice falter a little.

Sandy and Kirsten approached his bed, and Sandy sat himself on the edge. 

"Seth," he began slowly, resting a hand on Seth's leg. "The doctor said you have leukemia. It's a kind of cancer, but it's very treatable; the doctor said that too."

Seth nodded, the blank expression on his face never wavering. He stared intently at Captain Oats' mane.

Dr. Pearson's earlier attempt to casually slide cancer into the conversation hadn't gone over Seth's head, and so of course he'd spent the whole time in his stupid hospital bed convinced that he had cancer, but at the same time, he'd been equally convinced that he didn't have it.

He'd been an anxious person for as long as he could remember. His parents had made him see a shrink when he was seven or eight, and all he really remembers was the guy telling his parents that he tended to assume the worst was going to happen, and that he was unfortunately blessed with an extremely robust imagination, so the worst possible scenario in Seth's mind was often far afield of what anyone else might think or imagine.

Seth had been hoping that that was all this was, more of his robust imagination and his tendency to catastrophize, his brain churning out things that his exasperated parents would reassure him weren’t going to happen.

No, the ceiling fan isn't going to fall on you and sever your head while you're sleeping, so you need to stop trying to sleep in the bathtub.

No, the children's librarian isn't a witch with a taste for little kid eyeballs.

Yes, it is okay to go to sleep because we will not be abducted by aliens or replaced by evil body doubles before you wake up.

Yes, your stomach hurts, but no you aren't dying.

But now it's maybe you are dying.

Seeing Seth's glazed over expression, Sandy tried to angle his head to meet his eye, but Seth wouldn't look at him. 

"Your father has to take Ryan home tonight, but I'll be spending the night here with you," Kirsten said, her voice tight. "Dr. Pearson says you can go home tomorrow."

They'd decided not to tell Seth about having to return for an inpatient hospitalization until they were sure that would be part of the course of treatment. 

"Okay," Seth said quietly.

"Do you have any questions for us?" Sandy asked gently. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"No." Seth cleared his throat. "No questions." He continued to stare at Captain Oats.

"Setheleh, can you look at me please?" Sandy asked.

Seth finally met his gaze, looking wary.

Sandy gave him a little smile. "I'll be here tomorrow when you check out, okay?"

"Okay." Seth's voice was dull.

Sandy lowered his voice. "And I know this is scary, son, but everything will be okay. You're going to be okay. And through everything, you have your mom and me, and you have Ryan. No matter what. I promise." Sandy paused. "Okay?"

"Okay." 

"It'll be okay," Sandy repeated, patting Seth's knee. "Do you want me to stay for awhile before I take Ryan home? I'm happy to hang out.”

"You can take Ryan home. I'm probably just going to sleep anyway." Seth shrugged. "Only thing to do around here, really."

Sandy hesitated. 

He and Kirsten hadn't been sure what to prepare for in terms of Seth's response. He'd steeled himself for a barrage of questions and nervous energy, but he hadn't expected a total emotional shutdown from his son. 

It felt a bit like talking to Ryan all of the sudden, and it left Sandy off-balance, unsure of how to leave him, not knowing what might have been churning under the surface of Seth's blank expression and his short terse answers and his shrugging shoulders.

Sandy leaned forward and wrapped Seth in a tentative hug, which Seth returned weakly. He pulled back a little, and pressed a kiss to Seth's forehead. 

"I love you, Seth," Sandy whispered.

"Love you too," Seth mumbled.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" 

“Okay.”

ooo

Sandy leaned against the wall outside of Seth's room, closing his eyes and swallowing heavily. 

His kid had cancer. 

He shook his head. He was the adult, the dad. He wasn't allowed to have a breakdown.

His stomach rumbled suddenly, a reminder that he'd barely eaten since breakfast, having only picked at the sandwich that Ryan had brought him from the cafeteria. He wasn't entirely sure his stomach could handle much in the way of food, but, on the other hand, maybe it could help stop the sudden shaking in his hand. He spied a candy machine a few feet away, and shuffled over, pulling a few coins out of his pocket.

There was a Snickers bar calling his name. He liked Snickers. 

Maybe he needed chocolate. There was some chemical or other in it that was supposed to make a person feel better.

Did it make your son's cancer go away?

Whatever it did, Sandy needed it. He slid the coins into the slot, and hit E3. Nothing happened.

A jolt of anger surged through Sandy's body. His son was sick, he couldn't do a damn thing about it, and he couldn't even get a fucking candy bar. An angry growl escaped his lips. He reared back and kicked the stupid vending machine, channeling every pent-up emotion from the past day into it.

Sandy straightened up and looked around, suddenly aware of what he was doing, aware of his throbbing foot and his heavy breathing and the heavier pit in his chest. 

His eyes continued to dart around, grateful that there had been no witnesses to his vending machine assault. He'd imagine hospital security had seen their fair share of overwhelmed parents going toe-to-toe with the vending machine, but Ryan didn't need to see him losing control like that. 

He took a long slow breath, reminding himself of his responsibility, of his next dad job, of the need to put one solid foot in front of the next as he found Ryan and took them both home. 

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Ryan was hunkered down in a blue plastic chair, arms folded, fast asleep. While Seth looked vulnerable and young when he was sleeping, Ryan looked angry and tense, his face scrunched up like a bulldog.

Sandy jostled his arm lightly.

"Hey Ryan, wake up. We've gotta go home."

"Mmmmm," Ryan groaned. "Sandy?" He sat up a little and looked around. "What about Seth? I thought you were gonna stay with him." He yawned. "Are they letting him go home?" He asked hopefully.

"Kirsten's with him tonight," Sandy explained in a soothing voice. He helped Ryan out of his chair. "He'll be home in the morning. C'mon, kiddo."

"Is he okay?" Ryan asked, as they walked out of the hospital's sliding doors, Sandy's arm around his shoulders. 

Sandy was quiet. He had wanted to tell Ryan when they were at home, maybe over a bowl of ice cream or something, as if that would somehow soften the blow. But mostly he'd wanted to put some distance between them and the hospital before he had to explain everything.

Now though, he knew he really couldn't lie to Ryan, or prolong telling him the truth.

"Sandy?" Ryan asked, concern and fear sparking in his eyes, suddenly fully awake. "Sandy, what's wrong?"

They were in the parking lot now, right in front of the Range Rover. 

Sandy scratched the back of his neck, feeling the full weight of exhaustion from the day catching up to him.

"Seth uh...Seth has leukemia," he said quietly, hating the word. 

Ryan closed his eyes. Fatigue, and the shock of the news hit him, and he sank back against the side of the Range Rover. 

"I'm sorry," Ryan whispered. "Is there--is there anything I can do?" He looked back toward the hospital. "Can I see him?" His tone held an intensity that Sandy hadn't heard in awhile.

"There's nothing we can do right now, okay? He's probably sleeping. Just come home with me. You need a good night's rest. We both do. We're checking him out tomorrow," Sandy said, hoping his voice sounded confident, definitive, whatever it would take to get the job done, get Ryan home without much in the way of incident. "Okay?"

Ryan didn't say anything, but his eyes kept darting back and forth from Sandy's shoes to the hospital.

"Okay, Ryan? Please, son." Sandy squeezed his shoulder.

Ryan nodded finally, not wanting to make any more trouble for Sandy. "Is there anything I can do?" He asked.

"He'll probably be back in the hospital within a week or so, but I'd like it if we could all make his time at home worthwhile…you know? I'd really appreciate it." Sandy smiled gently at Ryan.

Ryan nodded. His blue eyes finally flicked up to meet Sandy's, and Sandy almost took a step back at the intensity of his gaze.

And there was that anger in his eyes. That severe, intense, practically paralyzing anger, the emotion with which Sandy was the most familiar, the kind that crippled you until you finally found a release for it. 

Kids Ryan's age shouldn't have that much anger.

"Seth's doing okay, you know," Sandy said. "It's a lot to take in, but the doctor's very optimistic." 

Ryan nodded. He reached out to open the car door.

Sandy put his hand on Ryan's shoulder. Ryan turned to look at him, but couldn't quite meet his eye.

"Look, if you need to talk about this, you know where to find me, yeah?"

Ryan looked down at Sandy's hand on his shoulder, then looked away.

"Yeah, okay." Ryan blinked, his jaw clenching. 

Sandy lifted his hand from Ryan's shoulder and watched as the younger boy slid into the passenger seat and slouched down, everything in his body language communicating clearly enough that the conversation was over. 

Sandy walked around to the other side of the car, his shaking hands fumbling with the keys. 

They drove home in silence.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Seth slouched down in his chair, wondering why he'd been so desperate to get into this meeting.

It didn't make him feel more mature or more in control of the situation. He felt like a little kid in the principal's office, sitting between his parents and waiting to hear how much trouble he was in, like everything in his world depended on what the adults around him did or said or told him to do. 

Dr. Pearson smiled warmly at each of the Cohens before speaking.

And wasn't it suspicious, the doctor Seth saw at the hospital's walk-in clinic just happening to be an oncologist and then just happening to diagnose Seth with cancer?

What was that folksy thing his dad said sometimes? 

When all you've got is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.

Maybe if Dr. Pearson had been a podiatrist, they'd all be sitting here trying to pin all of Seth's problems on his feet. 

Did his parents even think of that?

"I don't want to attack you with too much in one sitting, but I think it would be good to outline next steps and what we can expect along the way." Dr. Pearson passed three packets of paper across the table. "Now, before we begin, does anyone have any questions?"

Seth shook his head as his parents each murmured nos.

"There are a few different types of leukemia. Seth's type is known as acute lymphocytic leukemia." Dr. Pearson paused. "What that means is that the abnormality in Seth's white blood cells is fairly extreme. This type of leukemia becomes more severe quickly, which is why we want to move quickly on confirming the diagnosis and planning a course of treatment. If the second opinion confirms our diagnosis here, I believe we'll be looking at a fairly aggressive approach to treatment."

Seth swallowed a lump in his throat as the doctor kept talking, detailing symptoms and side effects and treatments and statistics, as the doctor told him that all of this would take a lot out of him, both emotionally and physically, that it wouldn't be easy.

Seth hoped that everyone else felt the appropriate degree of gratitude that he didn't toss out a No shit at that one.

It was overwhelming and weirdly embarrassing, this doctor detailing all of the ways that Seth's body was failing him, and not just when he dropped that Seth might notice his testicles getting swollen.

Great. That was exactly the development he was hoping for, a comically inflated ballsack.

He wanted the doctor to stop talking. He wanted everyone to stop looking at him. 

But of course they wouldn't.

Seth propped his elbow up on the arm of the chair and tried to subtly shield his face with his hand, trying to block out his parents' concerned faces, trying to block out Dr. Pearson's well-practiced and matter-of-fact sympathy. 

He'd probably delivered this same spiel to dozens of cancer kids. 

Kirsten reached out and took Seth's hand, interlacing their fingers, and Sandy rested a hand on his shoulder, neither of them getting that Seth was trying to block everyone out, not let everyone in. 

"When you begin chemotherapy, the initial plan will be for you to stay in our pediatric cancer ward. As your treatment progresses, we may be able to transition you to receiving chemo on an outpatient basis."

"Wait, I have to stay here?" Seth's eyes bulged. "I won't get to go home?"

It had been bad enough staying overnight; he couldn't imagine spending some indeterminate length of time in this place, with its terrible food and its distinctly medicinal smell and its infernal cacophony of beeping and its scratchy bedsheets and no part of it that felt like his own.

"We'll be here every day," Sandy said firmly, rubbing his hand across Seth's shoulder blades.

Dr. Pearson looked only momentarily thrown off by Seth's interruption, recovering swiftly with another explanation for why staying at the hospital was the best--and seemingly only--choice they'd entertain.

It all sort of floated over Seth's head. He couldn't listen, and he could barely feel his dad's hand squeezing his shoulder and his mom's thumb rubbing in circles around his knuckles, poor but well-meaning attempts at comfort.

Dr. Pearson's grand finale felt like a canned speech out of a movie, mentioning the hospital's cancer support group for teens and other counseling options for the whole family before praising Seth's otherwise good health-which okay, was now the time for that?-and noting effusively that the odds were in Seth's favor.

Which, sure, but the odds didn't always work out for everyone.

Why should he assume he'd be on the right side of that one?

ooo

Seth found Ryan in the waiting room and flung himself into the chair next to him. His parents were at the front desk, finishing up the discharge paperwork.

"Hey man," he said, running a tired hand through his hair.

"Hey. Skittle?" Ryan held the open bag towards Seth.

"Don't mind if I do." Seth pinched a few out and popped them into his mouth. "I'm beat." He sighed and slid down so that his body practically melded into the plastic seat.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the strangely deafening sound of his teeth going to work on the candy. He poked at the half-chewed Skittles with his tongue and quietly slurped on the subsequently fruit-flavored saliva.

He was largely indifferent to Skittles on an average day, but the sensory experience was kind of satisfying at that moment.

"You up for some Time Splitters when I get back from school?"

Seth smiled around the wad of Skittles wedged in his cheek.

"Count on it."

It felt alright with Ryan, not as heavy or weird as he was imagining it would be, not like it was with his parents.

"So how's the food here?" Ryan asked, upending the remaining Skittles into his mouth.

"About as good as a five-star restaurant, assuming they're serving roadkill."

"That bad?"

"Remind me to never criticize Mom's cooking again." Seeing Ryan's incredulous eyebrow raise he added: "I mean it. And any contraband you can get to me when I'm here for the long haul would be...extremely appreciated."

"The long haul?" 

"Yeah." Seth bit his lip. "They're letting me go home for a few days, but they're going to make me stay here when I start, uh, treatment."

"I'm sorry, man. That sucks."

"Yup."

There was a long beat of silence between them, Seth staring fixedly at a light brown splotch on the stark white wall in front of him. 

He couldn't tell if it was shaped more like a rabbit in a top hat or...something else in a top hat.

"So uh...when you're here, does that mean I get your room?"

Seth let out a surprised bark of laughter.

It wasn't like it was A+ material, but Ryan was kind of working up from the ground-floor, jokes-wise. He wasn't even sure laughter was allowed in Chino.

"Ryan Atwood, in with the funny."

"Too soon?" Ryan raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"Nah." Seth snickered. "I appreciate it, man." He jutted his chin towards his parents, who were now standing by the front desk, talking furtively, their heads huddled close together. "I don't think those two are going to be in the mood for comedy for awhile," he noted. 

"No, probably not," Ryan agreed.

"You might have to carry the team with me on that one." 

"Are you using a sports metaphor right now?"

"The cancer's clearly reached my brain, huh?" Seth picked absently at a hangnail. "But yeah, you can have my room. And if I die, you have dibs on my inheritance."

Ryan flinched.

Seth cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. 

"But uh, anyway, there's this stuff, adriamycin or something, they use it in chemo. It makes you ralph your guts out in pretty intense fashion. I was thinking maybe you create a diversion, I pilfer a nice little supply, then maybe we slip it in Chip's Budweiser...watch the fireworks." Seth waggled his eyebrows. "I mean, why should I have all the fun?"

Ryan snickered and was about to up the ante to taking out the whole water polo team when Sandy and Kirsten approached.

"You boys ready to head home?" Kirsten's smile was tight.

Sandy held out a hand to Seth to help him out of his chair.

"I'm not an invalid yet," Seth pointed out, springing to his feet in a more-or-less spry fashion. Seeing the look on his dad's face and realizing there had maybe been just a hint of sharpness in his tone, Seth clapped Sandy on the shoulder. "But I appreciate it. That's the spirit we're looking for, and good practice for when you're waiting on me hand-and-foot."

Sandy's mouth opened and closed a few times, clearly faltering for some kind of witty rejoinder, before settling into a weak smile.

"Let's load up, huh?" His voice was soft.

Seth and Ryan exchanged wincing glances as they followed Sandy and Kirsten down the hallway.

"I'm sensing it's too soon for the invalid jokes," Seth whispered.

"Afraid so, buddy.”

"Figures."

ooo

Seth lay on his bed, trying to focus on his graphic novel, but he was having trouble making any of the words and images make sense in his brain.

He yawned, stretching his arms above his head and letting the book flop onto his chest.

His mom and dad had ordered him to bed, insisting that he needed to rest, just because he'd started nodding off while playing video games with Ryan after he'd gotten home from school.

It felt weird, lying in bed in the middle of the afternoon while everyone else was downstairs going about their day. He wondered vaguely what they were doing or talking about. 

He supposed he would have to get used to it, living several degrees separate from everyone else, living on what felt like an entirely different planet.

Their lives would keep moving and he'd be in one place.

His parents had assured him that maybe he'd only need to stay at the hospital for a few weeks, or maybe the second opinion doctor would say he didn't even need to stay at the hospital, but he couldn't tell if they were just trying to give him a false sliver of hope. 

Seth rolled over and hit 'play' on his stereo, needing to drown out his thoughts.

His eyelids fluttered shut and he drifted off to sleep.

ooo

The doorbell rang.

Kirsten jumped, startled, almost spilling coffee all over the To-Do list she'd spent the past hour writing and rewriting.

Lists helped her keep things orderly and in-place, and they gave her concrete things to do. As she'd written different items, she'd felt herself relax a little under the weight of sudden purpose and direction.

There was no time for a breakdown when she needed to arrange appointments, set up a meeting with Dr. Kim about Seth missing school, compile a list of what Seth would need for his hospital stay, figure out how she and Sandy could coordinate their schedules so that someone would always be able to be with Seth, especially at night--

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She couldn't think about Seth, alone in a hospital room at night, scared out of his mi-

The beeping would drive him crazy.

Should I add earplugs to the list?

She wasn't sure Seth would like the feel of earplugs in his ears. He hated scratchy tags and when the seam of his sock sat weirdly across his toes, or when the top sheet of a bed was tucked under the mattress and his legs felt trapped under the blankets.

They probably tucked the top sheets under the mattress at the hospital. They probably wouldn't listen to him if he asked them not to, would keep doing it every time they made up the bed.

And he could untuck them himself, over and over, but chemotherapy was going to sap his strength and his energy to do something even as basic as-

Should I add noise-cancelling headphones to the list?

The doorbell rang again.

Kirsten had forgotten it had rung at all.

It seemed as if every member of the family had drifted off to their own isolated corners of the house, and she'd staked a claim on the kitchen. She guessed that put her in charge of answering the door, as Ryan had retreated to the poolhouse and Sandy was out pacing the patio.

Kirsten took a steadying breath before opening the door.

"Hi, Mrs. Cohen." Summer smiled brightly at her. "Is Seth home?"

"Hi, Summer." Kirsten gave a thin smile. "Seth's in his room. I can go get him."

"No, no, that's okay," Summer said. "I'll just go up." She paused, brow wrinkling in confusion as she realized that something felt off, but she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. “If that's okay," she added quickly.

While waiting for Kirsten to respond, Summer put her finger on it, the weirdness. 

Kirsten was normally intimidatingly well put-together, so her gray sweatpants and oversized Berkeley sweatshirt that must have been Mr. Cohen's were a sharp departure from her usual look, as was her hair, which had been thrown up into a hastily executed bun.

"Of course," Kirsten replied distractedly, already turning to head back to the kitchen and her list.

"Thanks, Mrs. Cohen," Summer called after her. She shrugged to herself, deciding that even Mrs. Cohen must've needed a day off from looking impeccable every now and then.

ooo

Summer smiled as she climbed the stairs, following the strains of some dorky emo music to Seth's bedroom door. She knocked lightly, and slowly opened the door when she got no response.

If he was studying naked, well, so be it, she figured with a smirk.

Aw, Cohen was asleep.

She had to admit that he looked pretty cute when he was sleeping, his crazy hair going in all directions, Captain Oats proudly standing guard on the nightstand.

Inspired, Summer threw herself onto the bed, bouncing on the mattress next to Seth. 

"Wake up, sleepy head!" she shrieked.

After all, it was the middle of the afternoon.

Seth bolted upright, looking disoriented and moderately panicked, but his face quickly melted into an only somewhat grumpy smile when his brain caught up to the moment and realized that it was Summer Roberts bouncing up and down on his mattress.

"What are you doing, woman?" he demanded, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Still, his mouth quirked into a little smile.

Even when disrupting his much-needed sleep, Summer was a sight for sore eyes.

And sore limbs, and nausea, and a ballsack that was apparently liable to swell at a moment's notice.

He'd have to remember to never share that thought with Summer.

"I came to visit you," Summer explained, bending down and kissing his lips passionately. "And I didn't want you to sleep through it."

"That's...mmmm...very considerate of you...Summer." Seth smiled into her kiss.

Summer drew back. Her face was flushed, and she giggled a little breathily, in that way that made Seth go light-headed.

"You haven't been in school the past two days."

Seth pushed Summer away gently as she leaned in for another kiss. "I'm surprised you noticed."

Summer stuck her tongue out at him, but without any real malice. She was able to admit--at least to herself--that she did kind of deserve Cohen's bitchiness on that one. It hadn't been her best look, dragging her feet on acknowledging his presence in public. 

"Look, I told Holly we're dating, okay?" Summer said. "So the whole school's going to know by tomorrow." She bit her lip around an imploring smile. "Am I forgiven?" 

Seth couldn't hold back a goofy grin as Summer very purposefully made eyes at him. 

"I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you," he said. 

Summer giggled as she crawled into the space between Seth's arm and shoulder and he held her close. She nuzzled his neck.

"Forgiveness makes great foreplay," he said, grin expanding in spite of himself, in spite of everything that had gone on in the past few days and the packet of papers from the hospital sitting untouched on his desk.

"So, how come you weren't in school?" Summer traced her fingers down Seth's chest. "Hope you're not contagious."

"No chance of that, I think."

"Hmm?"

Seth didn't answer, instead rolling them over so that he was on top of Summer.

"Ooh, Cohen, I love it when you take charge." Summer emitted a low sound as Seth nibbled gently on her earlobe, one hand sliding up the back of her shirt.

Summer's hands started to work at his belt buckle, causing Seth to inhale a short sharp gasp.

"Seth, I need to talk to you-"

"Ohmygod."

Summer and Seth broke away quickly. Seth managed a "Knocking is clearly a dying artform around here," as he hastily covered himself back up with his blanket, his belt buckle clanging in a rather obscenely loud fashion as he did so.

For her part, Summer scrambled out from under Seth and moved to the other side of the room, trying to subtly smooth down her shirt as she went. She covered her face with her hands and let out another mortified "Ohmygod."

Sandy stood in front of them both, looking flustered.

"Sorry, I..." Sandy trailed off, realizing he wasn't sure that a parent was supposed to apologize in this situation. He sent up a thanks to Hashem that his son and his girlfriend were at least fully clothed. "Seth, I, uh-" Sandy felt himself faltering. "I-I did knock," he said weakly.

What exactly was the etiquette for this situation?

He felt bad for laughing at Kirsten's distress when she'd walked in on Ryan and Marissa in the poolhouse; he could finally fully appreciate the excruciating awkwardness she had described.

Part of him also wanted to demand to know how Seth could even be thinking about sex at a time like this, but Sandy supposed he'd also been a sixteen-year-old boy once. He wasn’t sure cancer would’ve slowed him down either.

"Sorry, Dad." Seth sat up a little in bed, wincing as his belt buckle raised another racket.

"I should go.” Summer started to power-walk towards the door.

"No!"

Summer stopped short, momentarily distracted from her embarrassment by the intensity of Seth's tone. She looked at him quizzically.

"Summer, wait. Dad, sorry. I just-" Seth broke off, looking pensive all of the sudden. "I need to talk to Summer for a few minutes."

"Talk?" Sandy's eyebrows shot up, marveling at the audacity of his child.

"Talk," Seth said slowly. His eyes darted to somewhere on Summer's side of the room, and then fixed back onto Sandy. "Just for a few minutes."

"Oh." Sandy nodded, glancing back towards Summer. "Talk."

"And just talking; I promise." Seth smiled weakly, hoping The Cancer could—if nothing else—buy him a little bit of goodwill.

ooo

"What was that about?" Summer asked, a few moments after Sandy had left them alone to Talk. "How come he didn't go crazy and like, kick me out?"

"I don't think the guy's dad is supposed to do that, like, traditionally," Seth mused. "That would be more your dad's purview, I think."

"Whatever." Summer shook her head, too confused to be tempted to follow the thread of Cohen's weirdo free associations. "Your dad walked in on us and then just left us alone with the door closed."

"I know, not even a safe sex lecture or anything, which is really troubling in this day and age, what wi-"

"Cohen!"

Seth stopped. He blinked a few times, eyes going wide. He almost looked scared.

It was freaking Summer out.

"What's going on with you?"

"Okay, so about that..." Seth's voice was low. He inhaled a long slow breath.

ooo

"Seth, can I come in?" Sandy knocked lightly on Seth's door.

It had been more than fifteen minutes since he'd promised Seth and Summer a few minutes to talk privately. He wondered if he'd underestimated the depths of Seth's audacity.

"Come in."

"Are you decent?"

"You're hilarious."

Sandy opened the door, one hand covering his eyes as he moved around the corner and into Seth's room. He peeked through his fingers, and seeing nothing scandalous, whipped his hands away and smiled at the kids.

"Whew." He pretended to wipe the sweat off his brow.

Seth and Summer were looking rather cozy, with Summer resting her head on Seth's chest and Seth lazily playing with Summer's hair. Neither of them seemed even slightly self-conscious or embarrassed, merely wrapped up in their own teenage existence.

Summer's eyes looked a little puffy.

He'd told her.

For his part, Seth looked strangely serene, and Sandy was thankful that he had Summer.

"Sorry, Dad. I know we were supposed to be down already. We just got uh, caught up a little." Seth looked appropriately contrite.

"I understand," Sandy said softly, giving Seth a knowing smile. "I just wanted to let you guys know that dinner's here."

"I'm not really hungry."

Summer smacked Seth's chest lightly. "You need to eat."

Sandy snickered. "Better listen to the wife over there." He winked. "Summer, you staying for dinner?"

Summer straightened up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Thanks, Mr. Cohen; that'd be great."

ooo

Seth was lying in bed reading when Sandy popped in again later that evening.

"Hey, kiddo." Sandy walked over and sat on the edge of Seth's bed. "How you feelin'?"

Seth shrugged and closed his book before setting it on his night stand. 

He'd kind of decided on a policy of not answering the many frequent questions about how he was doing.

What was he supposed to say each time--

"Still have cancer, thanks." 

"So you wanted to talk to me?" Seth asked instead.

"Before we get into that, if Summer's over here, the door needs to be open, okay?" Sandy paused, considering that the size of the Cohen house meant that a lot could discreetly happen with the door open or closed. "Actually, why don't you two just spend time in the living room when she's over here?"

"I need my own poolhouse," Seth grumbled. He hoped his dad felt appropriately grateful that he bit back his immediate response, which was Wow, deny a dying man one of the few pleasures in life, huh?

It was weird and heavy and annoying, not just having The Cancer, but feeling suddenly responsible for everyone else's feelings about him having The Cancer.

It was his mortality, and yet he couldn't joke about it without everyone flinching and getting awkward. 

"I know it's not what you want to hear, but Ryan has the same rules with having girls in the pool house," Sandy pointed out.

"Right." 

Just like Ryan, Seth had no intention of following the parental edict, but it was going to be annoying to work around.

Imagine explaining to perennial latchkey kid Summer that he'd get in trouble if they spent time alone in his room, that they were supposed to stay where his parents could keep an eye on them.

He cringed, imagining Summer telling Marissa and Holly and whoever: Seth's mom and dad say he's not allowed to have sex.

It would definitely be a step backwards from the week before, when they'd fooled around in the Cohen family hot tub.

Thank god his dad hadn't walked in on that.

It was kind of stupid how much Seth was able to spiral about this topic, given the whole cancer thing, and maybe especially given that he was going to be living in a hospital within a week, making the "no girls in your room" thing a moot point anyway.

But it was like he continued to be split in two, one part of him thinking and feeling and acting like he was going to keep living his normal boring life, already scheming about how to sneak Summer into his room, and the other part of him was achingly and terrifyingly aware that a slow and painful and debilitating attack was being carried out on his life, an attack he could personally do nothing about. He had to surrender all control to doctors and chemicals and care plans, people he didn't know and medicines and procedures he didn't really understand.

He wondered if the hospital had any kind of set policy around their patients getting laid.

"I made the exception just this once, because I figured you needed to talk to her about everything." Sandy looked sympathetic. "How'd that turn out?"

"Okay." Seth shrugged. “Not like I really have anything to compare it to."

"Did you read through any of the materials the doctor gave you? That's really what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yeah; Summer and I looked at it a little bit. She had some questions." Seth fingered the frayed edges of his comforter. "Did you look at it?"

Sandy nodded. "It's a lot to take in."

"So everyone keeps saying," Seth said. "Spinal taps, chemo, going bald, giant needles, a metric ton of vomit..." he sighed. "Not exactly how I pictured spending my sophomore year."

"I know." Sandy patted Seth's knee. "I'm sorry this is happening."

Seth didn't respond for a long moment. He closed his eyes and leaned back against his headboard. "This sucks," he hissed softly.

"I know."

"And I mean, why does this have to happen when life is finally good?" Seth swallowed, feeling a small burst of heat behind his eyes. He blinked it away. "Why couldn't we have gotten this out of the way freshman year when I spent all my nights at home watching Survivor with you and mom?" He paused. "No offense to you or mom." He raised his eyebrows. "Or to Jeff Probst, for that matter."

"I'm sorry," Sandy said again, feeling powerless to offer any words of wisdom or solace. "I know it isn't fair. But hey-"

"I'm gonna go to sleep," Seth interjected, looking away. "I'm really tired."

Sandy nodded, realizing that whatever pep talk he'd been about to give wasn't likely to offer much reassurance to Seth. He wasn't a little kid anymore. He knew that his parents couldn’t make it any better.

Sandy rose to stand, pausing halfway up to kiss the top of his son's head. 

"You'll come get me if you need anything?" He asked, trying to catch Seth's eye.

Seth nodded, lips pressed into a frown as he looked away. 

They exchanged good nights and Sandy walked away reluctantly, closing the door behind him and leaving Seth alone. 

Chapter Text

Sandy and Kirsten's voices were low, but little bits of their conversation carried down the hall.

Seth slowed his pace, trying to make out the gist of what they were saying without yet exposing his location.

Seth Cohen: Once and Future Master of Stealth.

"Did you hear back from...and what time?"

"I just hope...Dr. Kim..."

"Remember what happened with...daughter?"

"What happened with whose daughter? And what's this about Dr. Kim?" Seth asked as he shuffled into the kitchen, deciding that then was as good a time as any for the ambush.

Kirsten whirled around, eyes wide. Said eyes darted over to Sandy, who looked similarly spooked.

"Oh uh, good morning, sweetie." Kirsten smiled. "Can I get you a bagel?"

"Sure." Seth wasn't really hungry, but he knew his parents would be on his back if he didn't eat. He plopped down on the stool next to Ryan, who looked up from the Sports section to give him a little nod. "So what's going on with Dr. Kim?"

His mom and dad did their silent marital communication thing.

Seth bit the inside of his cheek, hit with a sudden sharp burst of anger.

He didn't really know why. He didn't care that they were talking to Dr. Kim. 

Obviously they were going to have to talk with Dr. Kim.

"Your father and I are setting up a meeting with Dr. Kim," Kirsten explained, setting a glass of orange juice in front of Seth.

"Okay..." The sharp citrus smell of the orange juice hit Seth's nostrils, making him nauseous. 

"Just to talk about the plan for school while you're getting treatment," Sandy added.

"What do you mean, plan?" Seth's eyes narrowed. "How much strategizing do we need to do? They don't give you a decent doctor's note to excuse actual cancer?"

His mom and dad continued their side conversation, their eyebrows and mouths and jaws contorting this way and that.

It looked like quite the heated exchange.

Seth wanted to go full petulant and like, knock over his orange juice glass, send the offensive smelling orange liquid all over the kitchen, leave them finding stray bits of pulp in the cracks in the tiles weeks later. 

Watch them ignore him then.

He didn't know why he'd woken up so angry, but there he was.

And they'd been talking about this whole thing in front of Ryan. 

That Ryan did the whole quiet and unassuming thing—complete with a newspaper open in front of his face—didn't mean that he wasn't sitting there absorbing everything. 

Stage whispering wasn't really that discreet, and still waters still had ears, Mom and Dad. 

Granted, Ryan would more than likely fill Seth in on everything he'd missed, so that was obviously to his advantage, but still...

"What?" Seth asked sharply. He could feel Ryan looking at him, but he didn't care.

"We just need to talk about a plan for making up the work you're going to miss." Sandy spoke slowly, carefully.

"We don't know right now how much school you might miss, so we wanted to talk to Dr. Kim about options," Kirsten added. "So you don't fall behind."

"Options? Like what options?"

"Well, we're going to have to see what you're up for first." Sandy ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay, but like what then?"

Another glance between his parents.

"We can talk about hiring a tutor, but we don't want you pushing yourself too hard," Kirsten said.

It took Seth's mind a few moments to catch up.

Makeup work?

Tutoring?

Fall behind?

Apparently actual cancer didn't warrant a doctor's note.

"Wait, so I don't even get to like, enjoy the shitty consolation prize of missing school?" Seth demanded. "I'm going to be rotting in the hospital worrying about falling behind?"

Was he yelling?

He felt a little like he was yelling.

And his parents flinched and looked away, like maybe he was yelling, and Ryan shifted nervously, that stupid newspaper crinkling loudly.

Wait.

Fuck.

"Are they gonna make me stay back?" Seth's eyes widened to saucers.

"Seth, let's slow down here, okay?" His dad held up a hand. "We're getting way ahead of ourselves. We don't even have a second opinion yet." He took a few steps towards Seth, now both hands held up in a maddeningly non-threatening fashion. "We just want to make sure we're prepared, so that you don't have to worry about school."

"Daddy and I are going to talk to Dr. Kim and figure everything out, okay?" Kirsten gave Seth a reassuring smile. "The only thing we want you to be focused on right now is getting better."

Seth felt his jaw clench, at all of the things they weren't telling him, at the way they were trying to soothe him, to manage his feelings, at the infantilizing use of the word Daddy--also invoked in front of Ryan--at the claim that he shouldn't worry about school, when he was pretty sure he got to decide how big an emergency it would be to have to repeat sophomore fucking year.

"Are they going to make me stay back if I miss a lot of school or can't do this tutoring thing?" Seth asked again, trying not to grit his teeth.

"Seth, we're really not there right now, I promi-"

"This fucking sucks." It took everything in Seth not to hurl the stupid orange juice glass at the stupid French door.

No one scolded him for his language.

They were clearly in desperate times.

"Sweetie..." Kirsten trailed off, faltering. She looked away, feeling her eyes get hot.

"Seth..." Sandy took a step towards Seth before reconsidering. 

"I'm going back to bed," Seth said tersely, pushing back from the counter and swiftly retreating to his bedroom. 

ooo

Ryan adjusted his seatbelt and glanced at Sandy across the middle console.

Sandy's eyes were closed and he rubbed at his brow as he heaved a heavy sigh.

"I can get a ride," Ryan offered.

"No, no, I'm fine." Sandy opened his eyes and gave Ryan a tired smile. "I want to drive you to school. Besides, I need to swing by the office anyway."

"I'm sorry," Ryan said softly. "I'm sure Seth's just..." he trailed off, not really sure how to finish that sentence.

"I really can't imagine how he's feeling right now." Sandy turned the key in the ignition. "But then I can't really imagine how I'm feeling right now." He cleared his throat, feeling uneasy with offering Ryan even a vague glimpse into his state of mind. "It'll just take some time to sort things out, but we'll get there."

Ryan didn't say anything. 

There were a few minutes of quiet as Sandy pulled out of the driveway and they started driving towards school.

"How are you doing, Ryan?"

"I'm okay." Ryan's voice was quiet.

"I know this is a lot." Sandy fiddled with the radio dial. "And I know Kirsten and I are going to have a lot going on, but I want you to know that we're here for you. I meant it the other night--I want you to tell us what you need." He smiled a little. "Even though I know you probably won't."

"I don't need anything." Ryan looked out the window. "I can handle myself, and you guys need to be focused on Seth right now." He paused, sitting up a little straighter. "But I mean, if there's anything I can do..."

"You can keep being there for him." Sandy pulled into the Harbor drop-off circle. "I'm sure he could use a friend right now." He put the Rover in park and turned to Ryan. "But if things get to be too much, know it's not your job to take care of him or us, okay?" Seeing no movement or hint of an answer from Ryan, Sandy placed a hand on his shoulder. "I mean it. These kinds of things...I mean, like with Kirsten's mother..." Sandy paused, exhaling a heavy breath. "It can be a marathon, not a sprint, and it's easy to get burnt out. I don't want that for you, not when you have so much going on yourself." He squeezed Ryan's shoulder. "I know it's a hard thing for you, but I'd like you to let us take care of you too." He gave Ryan a crooked half-smile. "Maybe just to let an old dad feel useful once in a while, huh?"

Ryan blinked a few times, looking down at his hands.

He thought about how Sandy's words mirrored Kirsten's from that first night in the hospital, before they'd even known what was wrong with Seth. He wondered if the Cohens had coordinated about what to say to him and what they wanted from him, or if it was one of what Seth called their Creepy Old Married Couple things, like when they effortlessly finished each other's sentences, or like the night that, through some kind of breakdown in communication around who was picking up dinner, Sandy and Kirsten each came home with the exact same set of meals from Ciao Balboa, although they both swore that they hadn't discussed where or what to get for dinner with each other. 

"Ryan?"

"Okay." Ryan gave a little nod.

"You're a good kid." Sandy squeezed his shoulder again. "I want you to know that no matter what, you're a part of this family. You're stuck with us." He smiled. "Whether you wanna be or not, you hear me?"

"I uh, I appreciate it." Ryan tried not to think too hard about the implications of what Sandy was saying. 

He wasn't even sure if Sandy meant it that way, or if it was his mind was the one taking it to the worst possible scenario. 

"I'll probably be the one to pick you up after school, okay?" Sandy patted his shoulder. 

"Okay." Ryan hiked his backpack up on his shoulder and opened the car door. 

ooo

The hallway was swarmed with students milling around before first period.

Somewhere in there was Marissa.

Ryan hoped that he didn't see her. He hoped that she wouldn't try to make up with him again. He wasn't sure he'd be able to say no at that point, and he really wasn't sure that that was a good thing, for either of them.

He caught sight of Summer, standing in front of her open locker and staring off into the distance.

"Hey, Summer." Ryan sidled up to her.

"Hey, Ryan."

Ryan smiled a little at the picture of Seth and Summer that was taped on the inside of Summer's locker. They were both laughing, Seth with his arm around Summer, Summer's head tilted back and her eyes closed.

Summer saw where Ryan was looking, and her lips upturned just slightly.

"How's it going?" 

Summer sighed. "Well now that Cohen and I are exclusive, I've basically committed social suicide. None of my friends will even look at me anymore."

"I meant.." Ryan paused, wondering how he could have misread Summer so profoundly. "Ah. Joking."

"Yeah; Cohen's a bad influence on me." Summer exhaled a deep breath. "I haven't really talked about it with anyone other than Cohen." She grabbed a book from her locker, looked at it, then shoved it back in. 

"You haven't talked to Marissa?" Ryan's brow furrowed. He figured she'd be the first person Summer would confide in.

Summer leaned up against the lockers, looking glum. "Coop's been wrapped up in her own world since you guys stopped dating." She sniffled. "Honestly, I'm just here for her if nobody else is around." Her eyes looked teary. "She didn't ditch only you for Oliver you know." She paused. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Ryan shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

Summer bit her lip and looked off into the distance.

"How's Cohen doing?"

Ryan's mouth quirked. He scratched the back of his neck.

"He's uh, doing okay," he said after an awkward silence. 

It felt like kind of a stupid thing to say, but he wasn't really aware of a better answer, or one that Seth would be cool with him sharing with Summer. 

Seth had been pissed off at breakfast, but Ryan would've been pissed off too. 

He knew that Sandy and Kirsten were trying to be nice and trying to be delicate, but it felt like that hollow Newport nice, that pretending like things weren't as bad as they clearly were nice, that trying to manage your feelings while withholding important information from you nice.

It made you feel crazy, when you just needed someone to level with you. 

In third grade, he'd been sitting in his school counselor's office in Chino, watching as Mr. Hatch stammered and rambled his way through some kind of explanation of why he and Trey had been called down to see him. 

And then his mother had stormed in, seething, and spat "Your fucking father's been arrested again." 

It wasn't nice or delicate, what she'd said or how she'd said it, but it cut through a lot of bullshit too. 

"Will you tell him I'll call him tonight? Or I'll try to come by after school." Summer hugged her arms across her midsection. "If you think the Cohens would be cool with that."

"I think so," Ryan said. 

"Do you know if he's coming to school at all before...?"

"I don't know." Ryan adjusted his backpack strap on his shoulder. "He's got a bunch of appointments this week, and I'm not sure the Cohens will let him come."

"I've gotta get to Bio," she said. She gave Ryan a little nod and strode briskly away, trying to distance herself from the one other person in the school who had any idea what she was truly feeling at that moment.

ooo

Sandy managed to limit his time at the office to filing a few motions for continuance and grabbing a few files that he'd be able to work on from home. 

He made it back home in the late morning hours to find Seth curled up on the couch, Nana Cohen's quilt wrapped around his body.

Sandy stopped short.

Caleb was next to Seth on the couch, awkwardly clutching a video game controller and squinting at the tv screen.

Kirsten was on a nearby armchair, her day planner open on her lap, pen in hand.

"Hi all," Sandy greeted the room. 

"Hey, Dad," Seth twisted around and shot Sandy a lopsided smile. "I convinced Grandpa to play his first ever video game, strictly for my amusement. I'm really making this cancer thing work for me." He held up his hand and mimed like he was controlling a pair of marionettes.

"That's great, son." Sandy smiled obligingly. He could see that Seth was straining to paper over what had happened at breakfast, could feel him wanting everyone to match his energy and lightness.

"And Grandpa's teaching me an assortment of new vocabulary words."

"Even better." Sandy patted Seth's head fondly as he headed over to where Kirsten sat. He laced his fingers through her's. "And Cal, it's a pleasure, as always." 

"Sanford." Caleb continued to scowl at the screen. 

All told, it was a pretty civil exchange, for the two of them. 

It felt intrusive having Caleb in the house when Sandy's instinct was to build up a protective wall around his family unit--both physically and emotionally--but it also didn't feel like the appropriate time to stoke the flames of their ongoing animosity. 

And, of course, Caleb was an important part of Kirsten and Seth's concept of their family unit. There was always that.

"My dad was able to get in touch with the Children's Hospital in LA," Kirsten said quietly, glancing over to Seth before her eyes settled back on Sandy. "They're able to fit Seth in for tomorrow afternoon at four."

"Dr. Penner is the best in the country," Caleb chimed in. "It'd be a waste of time going anywhere else."

"That's great." Sandy bit back a pang of resentment that his father-in-law had done what he and Kirsten hadn't been able to, having been informed by the Children's Hospital that, because of scheduling on their end, they were better off moving down the list of recommended hospitals. 

He knew it was petty, and he knew that the most important thing was that Seth's care was placed into the best hands possible, but it also grazed that old and open wound that Caleb loved to dig at, the implication that Sandy couldn't provide for his family, couldn't protect them, couldn't network his way to the top hospital on less than forty-eight hours notice. 

Couldn't keep his own son healthy and safe. 

ooo

Seth kept his eyes fixed on the tv screen while he listened to his parents' conversation, watching with only mild interest as his grandfather bumbled his way through the ninja game. 

They were talking about the second opinion.

Seth wondered if needing a second opinion was supposed to make him feel hopeful, like there was a shot that it was all just a big misunderstanding somehow.

What would the second opinion be?

Nah, you're just a scrawny low-energy wuss who bruises easily.

So the second opinion would be that he's Seth Cohen, basically.

"I can take him," Sandy offered. "I can get Stan to cover my pre-trials."

"I don't want to put you out or anything," Seth piped up, annoyed despite himself that they were continuing their charming habit of talking about him—nay, making plans for him—when he was in the same room. "I could borrow the car, go on my own. I was thinking of getting out of the house tomorrow anyway."

Despite his irritation, he had meant the suggestion as a mostly sincere way of trying to ease his parents' stress, but both of them seemed aghast at the very idea.

"I'll take you," Sandy offered, as Kirsten simultaneously came out with "Don't be ridiculous; you are not going alone," in a borderline scolding tone.

"We'll all go," Kirsten announced, shutting her book.

"Kiki, I need you tomorrow for when we talk to Fred Anderson. I can't stand the jackass, but he seems to like you." Caleb never tore his eyes away from the screen, furiously tapping buttons.

Kirsten looked torn, but Sandy tried to give her a little smile to say it was okay. She also needed--maybe more than any of them, given how hard it had been when her mother had been sick--to remember that it was a marathon and not a sprint, that dividing the labor and focusing on other things when they could might ultimately be the best thing for all of them. 

"No worries, Mom. Dad and I will be fine." Seth paused. "So am I going to school tomorrow, like before the hospital?"

Sandy and Kirsten looked at each other.

Sandy shrugged.

Kirsten frowned.

"Do you want to go to school?" Sandy asked.

Seth shrugged. "I dunno. Everyone's so concerned with me 'falling behind' and all." He paused. "And Summer asked me."

"Ah, so that's why you want to go to school, so you can make time with that girlfriend of yours," Caleb chimed in. "Hah! I massacred that ninja bastard."

"We'll think about it," Kirsten said finally. "And it'll depend on how you feel tomorrow morning."

"That guy was on your side, Grandpa," Seth pointed out, not bothering to respond to his mother. "And what year is it again? Pardon me, but Summer and I don't make time." He sniffed indignantly.

"I'm going to the kitchen to grab a bite to eat," Sandy announced. "Anybody want anything?"

"No thanks." Kirsten opened her book again.

Caleb just waved his hand in a go away gesture.

"Seth?"

"Uh, actually, Dad, I'll go with you." Seth scooted off the couch and followed Sandy into the kitchen.

Seth stood at the island as Sandy started rummaging through the refrigerator.

"What do you want?" Sandy asked, pulling out some leftover pizza from the night before.

"Maybe just a ginger ale."

"Nothing to eat?" Seeing Seth shake his head, Sandy grabbed a can of ginger ale and slid it over to Seth. "Did you end up having any breakfast?" 

"Yeah, I had a bagel." Seeing his dad's skeptical look, Seth held up a hand. "Okay, fine. Half a bagel."

"You gotta eat, son."

"So they tell me." Seth resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"About earlier..." 

Seth groaned. 

Sandy pressed forward. "Listen, there's a lot coming at you, and it's understandable to be upset or angry." Sandy rested a hand on Seth's shoulder. "But your mom and I are going to work this school thing out; I promise."  

"I know." Seth's eyes were trained on the counter.

Sandy took a good look at Seth, at his pale pallor and the dark purple rings hugging his eyes. He still had Nana Cohen's quilt thrown over his shoulders, the effect making Seth look much younger than sixteen. Sandy had flashes of sick days past, putting Seth into a lukewarm bath to help manage a particularly nasty fever, Seth lying on the couch under Nana Cohen's quilt, his head resting on Sandy's lap, Sandy absently playing with his curls as they watched Mrs. Doubtfire for the seven hundredth time, Seth--even through his fever--mumbling his favorite lines along with Robin Williams. 

It hurt to think that Seth would have to stay in the hospital, away from the comforts of home and of family, away from anything familiar and safe. It hurt to imagine him falling asleep at night in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed. It hurt to think that, after some stretch of time, that same hospital room and hospital bed would come to feel familiar to Seth.

Sandy made a mental note to pack Nana Cohen's quilt in Seth's hospital bag.

"Um, so tomorrow?" Seth's voice wavered a little. "Are they just looking at my test results, or do you know if they're gonna make me do the same tests again?" He looked at Sandy, eyes wide, and then looked away, back down at the counter. "Just uh, guy likes to know if he's getting his bones sucked dry again, ya know?"

"I'm not sure," Sandy said. "Dr. Pearson said they'd be reviewing your file, but I'm not sure if they'll want you to do any more tests."

Seth nodded, taking a long slow sip from his ginger ale can. His hand shook a little, sloshing a little liquid out of the can as he placed it back down on the counter.

"Seth? You okay?" 

"I'm uh, kinda freaking out," Seth admitted with a nervous laugh. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath.

"Oh Seth." Sandy's heart constricted. "C'mere." Sandy pulled Seth into a hug, gently easing Seth's head onto his shoulder and rubbing his back. "I know it’s scary, but everything’s going to be okay, okay?”

Seth's shoulders shook a little. 

"Shhh." Sandy kissed the side of Seth's head. "You just stay here as long as you need to.”

Sandy felt a pang of guilt at what a relief it was, to be able to hold Seth and be a shoulder to cry on. 

That version of Seth--young and scared and vulnerable and looking to Sandy for comfort--was much easier to know what to do with than the Seth of the night before--maybe equally scared, but also sharp and skeptical and well-aware of how hollow Sandy's reassurances were.

And there was another layer to Sandy's guilt, knowing that part of the relief was being granted a job and a distraction from his own fear. It had been frustrating, Seth shutting him out, depriving him of that sense that he was helping, that he was doing something.

After a few moments, Seth pulled back, wiping at his eyes.

"Sorry," Seth said, embarrassed at the emotion and the outburst, and at the little wet splotches on the shoulder of his dad's shirt.

"It's okay, Seth. Really." Sensing Seth's discomfort, Sandy opted to give him a little emotional space by shifting his focus. He grabbed a slice of cold pizza. "Sure I can't convince you to eat something?"

"Nah." Seth waved it away. "I'll eat a little later." His lip curled. "And maybe not pizza."

"Fair enough." Sandy paused, wondering if he should leave well enough alone. "We're going to get through this. You know that, right?" he said softly.

"I know." Seth's lips turned up into a half-smirk. "I'm a fighter, as all of the doctors who just met me a few days ago were able to ascertain with lightning speed." 

Sandy chuckled. "What can I say--we Cohen men project great strength." 

There was a comfortable beat of quiet, Seth taking a swig of ginger ale and Sandy a bite of pizza.

"I think I'm gonna head up to bed," Seth announced. He sniffed, then waved away Sandy's offer of the tissue box. "I don't need to dangle this kind of bait in front of Grandpa," he added, gesturing to his splotchy tear-stained face. Seeing Sandy's confused expression, he added, "He's been on good behavior so far, but I figure there's only so much goodwill and restraint The Cancer can buy me." He snickered. "I guess telling a cancer kid he'll never be an athlete might feel a bit like punching down, even for Grandpa."

Sandy blinked, taken aback.

He'd had some idea that Caleb and Seth's interactions mimicked his own with his father-in-law. While Caleb directed his snide comments about Sandy towards his salary or his shabby clothes or his Jewishness, he'd lob at Seth barbs about his gangly frame or his unruly mop of hair or his nonexistent social life. And for his part, Seth always seemed so unbothered, verbally spiking it back to Caleb with an ease and quickness that belied any kind of distress or hurt feelings.

Sandy had even enjoyed their verbal sparring at times, especially as Seth's rejoinders had become wittier and more sophisticated. 

Like the time that Caleb had noted Seth's perpetual lack of a girlfriend and Seth had mused aloud about how all of Caleb's girlfriends were clearly attracted to his thinning hair and his overall humorlessness and definitely not the tremendous amounts of money he spent on them in exchange for their company--and I think there might be a term for that, Grandpa. 

That one had delighted Sandy so much that, as he and Kirsten were getting ready for bed later that evening, he'd told Kirsten he wanted to embroider Seth's verbal takedown on a throw pillow and keep it in the living room. 

But in all that time and with every exchange he'd witnessed, Sandy couldn’t remember even considering whether they upset Seth, whether his pithy comebacks masked any distress or any hurt feelings. 

"Are you--are you okay with him being here?" Sandy asked. "I mean, I can..." he trailed off. 

"What?" Seth looked confused, then slightly alarmed, like maybe he'd said too much and Sandy was about to take it far too seriously. "Oh no, it's fine. He's fine." He waved a dismissive hand. "It's not a big deal. I just don't feel like dealing with it." He yawned, pointing at his gaping mouth as he did so. "And clearly I need a nap anyway," he added, blinking rapidly as the yawn tapered off. 

"Okay." Sandy still felt a little unsettled. "Have a good nap then." Sandy watched Seth secure Nana Cohen's quilt around his shoulders and slowly shuffle out of the room. 

He felt another sharp pang of resentment, although this one felt less petty. Caleb had invaded their house and their family life, and now Seth was exiling himself to his bedroom to avoid having to devote any mental energy to coming up with a biting comeback if his grandfather mocked him for crying about having cancer. 

Because it had occurred to him that his own grandfather might mock him for crying about having cancer. 

Because his grandfather was perhaps not an important part of his concept of their family unit, and Sandy hadn't seen that before now. 

Sandy tossed his half-eaten slice of pizza in the trash, suddenly not feeling very hungry. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

"Why do I, like, always kick your ass at this game?" Seth paused his fervent tapping long enough to throw Ryan a dazzling smile.

"Don't say ass.” Ryan watched his ninja die for what seemed like the thousandth time.

With some of their games it was essentially a level playing field, but Seth was something of a prodigy with the ninja game, a thing which Seth had declared to be the World's Most Useless Talent.

Still, he did seem to enjoy reveling in it.

"Hey, at least you're better than Dad," Seth offered. "If there is some way of slicing your own head off in this game, that man will find it."

"You had enough to eat?" Ryan glanced at Seth's plate nestled next to him on the couch.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"And you're feeling okay?" Ryan gave him a pointed look.

“God, puke up a lung once and you never hear the end of it." Seth shook his head. "I'd hate to see what might've happened if Mom and Dad weren't around. Though I must commend you...you can yell really loudly."

Shortly before Sandy and Kirsten had left for their dinner date, Ryan had walked into the kitchen to find Seth on his hands and knees on the kitchen floor, hacking and gagging.

He'd called for Sandy and Kirsten and they did what they did best, swooping in and taking care of things, probably relieved to see that the problem was only throwing up, having managed to imagine far worse between the time they'd heard Ryan yelling and the time they'd reached the kitchen.

After Seth's stomach had settled and Sandy had cheerfully regaled them-- over Seth's weak protestations--with a surprisingly large number of Seth Vomit Stories, it had taken considerable cajoling from Ryan and Seth before Sandy and Kirsten willingly left the house.

Seth yawned, stretching his arms over his head

"You know, with me sick and all, you'll probably have to see a lot of really gross stuff. I mean, it's not like some mucus-ed up alien is gonna pop out of my chest or anything, but it's probably not going to be pretty." He paused. "Are you gonna be cool with it, seeing me like that?"

"Yeah, of course. Sure. No, it's cool." Ryan faltered a little. "I mean, I just have a thing about stuff that comes out of the body."

That wasn't entirely true.

He didn't like bodily functions, but when he was prepared for it, like when he knew his mom or her boyfriend or Trey were going to be hungover, he was able to play the caregiver role pretty seamlessly.

There was just something about that moment he walked into the kitchen, something about knowing that it wasn't a hangover or a temporary problem or something that could be fixed with a pot of coffee and a greasy breakfast that felt overwhelming.

Instead of knowing what to do, he'd just felt helpless.

He knew how to tend to a hangover; he didn't know how to tend to this, and grilled cheese and video games felt like a pathetic attempt at helping, at easing the burden on any of the Cohens. 

"Ah." Seth nodded knowingly. "A little squeamish about projectile vomit. I see." Sorry to traumatize you like that. And just, you know, you don't need to come to the hospital all the time if it's weird for you." He sniffed, eyes glued to the screen. "What's say I beat you again, Atwood?"

Ryan swallowed thickly. "Sure." He tapped the start button. "And I can handle it. No problem," he added. "Just try not to projectile vomit on me, huh?" He snuck a glance at Seth, who was sneaking a glance at him.

They both smiled.

ooo

Sandy took a sip of wine as he perused the menu. Nothing sounded particularly appealing to him, but then he hadn't eaten much of a full meal in the past few days. He looked up at Kirsten, who stared at her menu with all the intensity of a doctor performing open heart surgery.

Kirsten felt Sandy's steady gaze and met his eyes briefly. She let out the breath she hadn't even been aware she'd been holding and closed the menu.

Sandy reached across the table and took her hand.

"You know, this was really nice of the boys to plan this, but we don't have to stay here," Sandy suggested, voice low.

"Wha-what do you mean?" Kirsten asked, forehead wrinkling. "You want to go home?"

"No, no, not that," Sandy insisted. "But I don't know..." He sighed in frustration, unable to voice his feelings coherently.

Kirsten looked down at herself, her fancy black dress, her shoes that were designed far more for vanity than practically. She looked at Sandy, his suit slightly wrinkled, his face worn and his hair unruly. She looked around them, at the candlelight, the stark white tablecloths, and the several slightly different forks that lay beside her plate.

"This does feel like a bit much right now. We could always find a burger joint," she suggested, arching an eyebrow. "Relive the college days." 

ooo

Fifteen minutes later, they were giggling in a booth at a nearly deserted burger joint, eating hamburgers, splitting an order of fries, and reminiscing on days past. They sat on the same side of the booth, holding onto each other.

"The roof leaked, there was mold in the walls, it smelled like skunk all the time, there was no air conditioning." Sandy nibbled on a fry. "We had the epitome of a couple's first house."

Kirsten snuggled her head into Sandy's chest. "You loved that house."

"I did," Sandy agreed, smiling fondly.

"You loved the creaky old porch swing. You loved watching the guests accidentally pull off the broken doorknob and frantically try and replace it before anyone noticed. And you loved that bed." Kirsten smiled. "You remember that bed, don't you?"

While living in Berkeley with no financial support from Kirsten's estranged father or Sandy's mostly estranged mother, they struggled to make ends meet. 

The house and their junker car constantly needed repairs, and there were the basic necessities of raising a kid. Their one truly nice piece of furniture was a king-sized bed with an ornate wooden bed frame. It was so heavy and unwieldy to move that the house's previous owners had left it behind for them. 

When Seth had grown out of his crib, the twin bed they'd gotten at a thrift store didn't impress him nearly as much as his parents' accommodations did. He spent practically every night for the next year and a half sleeping snuggled between them.

"It made sex pretty damn difficult," Sandy reminded her. "We had to hire a baby-sitter and find some place to spend the evening."

"You mean find somewhere to park," Kirsten corrected him, a playful twinkle in her eye. 

"And I might've kept Seth in diapers at night just a little bit longer." Sandy chuckled.

Kirsten laughed. "Hey, diapers are expensive."

"So's laundry detergent," Sandy countered. He smiled wistfully, kissing the top of Kirsten's head. "I loved that bed," he added.

And they had, despite all of the drawbacks. They loved the cozy family they had had in Berkeley. They loved cuddling together on the bed, Seth dozing off with his head on Sandy's chest. When there were nightmares, they were both by Seth's side to soothe his fears and tears. They were a close-knit family. 

Even when Seth got his own bed in his own room, they still shared meals every day and went for long walks on the weekends. 

When they moved to Newport, things had slowly come undone in their once close family. Seth had struggled with the move and with fitting in at his new school, and with Kirsten starting a job that brought more stress and demands on her than the tiny art gallery she'd worked in when they lived in Berkeley. He'd gradually drifted away and settled into his own world, a little bit at a time, retreating into himself and his comic books and his video games and moving away from his parents. 

At first he'd seemed angry with all the changes, and then more sad, and then finally just more resigned to the way things were and to his own unhappiness. 

It was nice to remember a time when they had all had time for each other, when work and bills and charity events hadn't prevented them from being together all the time.

And it was nice to step back and realize that they felt close again, that since Ryan had joined their family they'd gradually started to come together for more meals and more movie nights and more moments of connection. They knew more about what was going on in Seth's life than they had in years.

"How do you think they're doing?" Kirsten asked. “Should I call and check up on them?"

"I'm sure they're fine," Sandy reassured her. "Ryan will watch out for Seth. He's a good baby-sitter." His expression turned solemn. "He's a good brother."

"He is," Kirsten agreed quietly, snatching a stray fry that had fallen onto their tray. "He's a lot like you."

"No." Sandy shook his head. "Seth is like me. Ryan...his situation is a lot like mine was, but he's more like you." 

"They're good boys," Kirsten said.

"The best," Sandy agreed. "Even if I still don't buy that IMAX parking lot story."

ooo

Ryan heaved a frustrated sigh. His head was swimming.

If there weren't enough going on already, he had a pre-calc test the next day, and he couldn't seem to make sense of the material.

Despite his high score on the placement exam, Ryan found himself floundering in some of his classes. His teachers seemed to expect him to know a lot of things already, stuff he'd never been taught at his old school. He felt like was playing a frantic game of catch-up in most of his classes.

Seth had advised him to play the old my brother has cancer card with his teachers--his exact words had been “We should really be trying to milk this cancer thing for all it's worth here, Ryan”—but Ryan wasn't sure that Sandy or Kirsten would approve, that it would fly that well with his teachers, or that it would set him up for much success when he took Calculus the next school year.

To be fair though, it was hard to focus on pre-calc with everything going on with Seth.

Ryan was mostly preoccupied with worrying about Seth and Sandy and Kirsten, but he found a small amount of mental bandwidth was capable of thinking about how uncomfortable it was going to be, the Cohen house without Seth's chatter and Seth's energy and Seth drawing all of the Cohens and Ryan out in conversation, and Seth being the intermediary between him and Sandy and Kirsten.

Ryan cared for both Sandy and Kirsten deeply and in different ways, but he still wasn't quite comfortable having parents. Their attention and their affection and their interest in his life and the way they set limits and rules in places he'd never experienced limits and rules before could be...a lot.

Having a brother though, that was okay.

Trey and Seth were very different---as people and as brothers.

Trey had always been pushing Ryan away, trying to put him in his place, calling him squirt and telling embarrassing stories about him in front of his friends. He was loyal and protective in his own way, but he also seemed to take the older brother's edict seriously that it was his job to knock Ryan down a peg.

Ryan hadn't really stopped to define what Seth was to him before he got sick. Now though, he recognized that, in a lot of ways, Seth was the opposite of Trey. He was always trying to include Ryan, to convince him that he belonged where he was, trying to tell Ryan in that blunt funny occasionally infuriating way that he was being stupid for rejecting the trappings of the Cohen household, or feeling like he wasn't good enough for them.

Sandy and Kirsten tried to deliver the same messages sometime--or at least he thought they did--but they did so in a more earnest and intense and distinctly parental way that made him squirm.

It's okay to trust us, sweetie.

We want to pay for your ludicrously expensive private school.

$200 isn't that expensive for a pair of jeans, and it's important to get something that will last.

Sometimes with Seth it felt like he was smacking Ryan upside the head, but not in the older brother Beat it, wuss way, and more in the Quit being ridiculous and take the lunch money, dude. If you don't, I will go all haunted doll movie on your ass, and you'll put the twenty back in my mom's wallet but later you'll find it tucked in your math book, and then you'll throw it into the ocean, but then a soggy twenty dollar bill will be waiting for you on your pillow, so let's cut all the creepy stuff in the middle there and you just take the money, huh?

Yes, Seth and Trey were very different.

Ryan also kept thinking back to a few weeks ago, before the diagnosis and before the upheaval in the Cohen household had thrown everything into disarray.

ooo

Seth and Ryan were tapping buttons feverishly, calling out instructions to each other as they traversed the video game landscape.

Kirsten appeared in the doorway.

"Boys, can you please set the table? Your father will be home soon with dinner." She walked away without waiting for a response.

Ryan hit 'pause' and immediately rose to stand.

"Dude, what are you doing?" Seth demanded. "We're like two minutes from the end of the level."

"We have to set the table."

"She's fine waiting a few minutes." Seeing Ryan's skeptical look, Seth rolled his eyes. "Trust me, Ryan. The first ask is an early one. We've got a solid eight to ten minute window before we're actually needed."

"We can pick up where we left off after dinner."

"And lose our momentum?" Seth looked incredulous. Then he looked thoughtful. "Do you want to finish the level now?"

Ryan shrugged.

"Of course you do," Seth supplied. "No more of this Ryan Atwood house guest routine, okay? We need Ryan Atwood, brother and ally."

"What?"

"C'mon man. You were supposed to even out our ranks, but instead you're on their side. You do everything before you're even asked, you won't even leave a dish in the sink for five minutes." Seth narrowed his eyes at Ryan. "You're making me look bad in my own home." He made a face. "And making it three-on-one here."

"So?"

"So, were you always this neat and obedient in Chino?"

Ryan frowned, thinking about the giant mess that was his bedroom in Chino. He and Trey were also supposed to trade off nights with doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen, but sometimes he'd blown it off or would fight with Trey, insisting it was Trey's night even when he knew it wasn't.

"Dude, I knew it," Seth crowed triumphantly.

"So what if my room was messier?" Ryan demanded. Seth just didn't understand. "I don't want to be ungrateful, okay?"

"Oh trust me, Ryan, we all know you're grateful. We are all super well-acquainted with The Ryan Atwood Gratitude. We'd like to meet more of the real Ryan Atwood sometime, The Ryan Atwood Spontaneity, okay? We'd all prefer that to you getting up at dawn to buff the silverware once a week or whatever. My parents would probably cry from joy if you got lazy on a single chore one time."

"You know, in the time it took to have this conversation, we could've set the table already," Ryan pointed out.

Seth waved a dismissive hand. "It's not about the table or the video games, Ryan. It's the principle of the thing."

"Whatever, I'm going to set the table."

"Trust me, man. You're on a dangerous path." Seth shook his head sadly.

Kirsten reappeared in the doorway.

"Hey boys—-"

"Dammit woman, get off our backs!" Seth half-bellowed.

Kirsten took a step back, blinking in confusion.

"Sorry Mom, didn't mean for you to be in the line of fire. You know I'm something of a character actor." Seth gestured towards Ryan. "Now you try."

Ryan's eyebrows shot up.

To his surprise, Kirsten turned and looked at Ryan expectantly, an amused glint in her eye.

"Well?" She asked.

"Uh, could we have two more minutes?" Ryan asked hesitantly. "We're almost at a good save point."

"Five more minutes, but that's it." Kirsten looked like it was taking everything in her to keep a straight face.

"Thanks." Ryan smiled shyly.

He turned to look back at the screen, but glanced back at Kirsten when he saw her mouth moving.

"Thank you," she mouthed at Seth.

Seth flashed her a discreet thumbs up.

ooo

Ryan slammed his pre-calc book shut, finally coming to terms with the fact that no effective studying was going to take place. He decided to go check on Seth.

He hadn't really wanted to leave him, but he really did have to study and Seth had said he was about to head to bed anyway.

He closed the door to the guest bedroom behind him. 

Sandy and Kirsten seemed to like it when he slept there, and Ryan was happy to do anything that made any of the Cohens happy. He was slowly moving his things from the pool house to the guest bedroom. He couldn't seem to do it all at once, part of him wanting to hang on to what Seth had dubbed his Fortress of Solitude.

Ryan smiled upon entering the living room, finding Seth sprawled out on the couch, fast asleep. Half of his body was hanging precariously over the edge of the couch. 

The tv was still on, bright graphics flashing across the screen and making Seth's face glow ten different colors.

Ryan quickly packed up the video game console, shoving all the loose wires behind the television and fishing Seth's controller out from underneath the couch.

"Seth..hey..Seth.." Ryan shook his friend's shoulder gently. He frowned at the dark purple rings that hugged Seth's eyes, and the unnaturally pale pallor of Seth's skin.

Seth stirred, a low groan escaping his lips. He swallowed, and his body twisted a little.

"No," he mumbled. "Don't wanna move." He smacked his lips. "Can't make me. Leave me here to die.”

"C'mon, Seth. Gotta get to your room, then you can sleep," Ryan offered, wrapping his arms around Seth's mid-section and helping him off of the couch.

"Carry me, Chino," Seth grumbled, a tiny smile making its way to his lips.

"Shut up, Cohen." Ryan returned the smile.

The boys made their progress to the stairs, Ryan holding Seth semi-upright while Seth's head leaned heavily on his shoulder. Seth could hardly keep his eyes open so, resigned, he kept them closed.

"A lot of things are gonna change when I'm gone." Seth's voice was thick and slow and practically breathless as they reached the top of the stairs. 

"You're not going anywhere," Ryan answered with a grim determination, surprised that Seth would talk so freely about his own uncertain mortality.

"I meant when I go to the hospital," Seth corrected him, chuckling softly.

The laughter poured into Ryan's ears and he felt an inexplicable surge of affection for his foster brother. The kid was sick, confused, and exhausted, and still managed to make Ryan look stupid.

"What's going to change?" Ryan asked, pushing Seth's door open, thankful Seth had left it half-open.

"Stuff," Seth said, slurring the word slightly. "My mom and dad. Summer."

Ryan gently lowered Seth onto his bed. He pulled Seth's covers over him.

"Thanks, man," Seth said quietly. "Sorry this is all so weird." 

It felt both weird and not weird to Ryan, taking care of Seth, taking care of family. 

"How..how are things going to change?" Ryan asked, shivering at how noticeably sick Seth looked in the dim lighting.

"Summer, she'll be kind of bitchy to others. Allow this to happen, as it's her one true release." Seth's voice cracked a little. "She'll shop a lot. Tag along every now and then, if you can stand it. Her mall commentary is top shelf stuff. Talk her out of going to any parties; she'll get wasted and do things we'll all regret." He winced. "Those rage blackouts are no joke."

"Mom...she drinks a lot when things are bad. You remember Thanksgiving. She's got too much pride to risk being seen getting hammered out in public, so she'll only do it around the house." Seth swallowed thickly. "When she drinks, Mom and Dad fight a lot. Things get ugly." His eyes shone a little. "It hasn't been bad in awhile, but...Just like, keep her occupied if you can. When things are at their worst, ice cream and a truly horrible chick flick seem to go a long way."

"O-okay,” Ryan stammered.

"Be really careful around Dad if he starts speaking rapid-fire Hebrew under his breath. That's when you'll know he's on the edge of a meltdown," Seth continued, his voice shaky. "Let him hug you and tell you he loves you, if you don't have a problem with that." He sighed, nuzzling his head deeper into his pillow. "He'll want to like, go through old photo albums and watch home movies. Try and keep him company so he doesn't go into some huge nostalgia spiral he'll never recover from. And keep up the joking. He likes that. You know it's bad when Dad stops even trying to be funny." Seth coughed. "No one's expecting Seth Cohen level humor out of you, but you've shown some promise lately in the banter department, Atwood."

Ryan snickered. "Got it," he said indulgently. "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Seth said, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. "There's this guy, Ryan, who carries the world around on his shoulders. He's got this hero complex going on, which is why I'm giving him the intel on the parental units and the girlfriend. None of this stuff is actually his responsibility; I just know he's gonna try to fix it anyway.  But make sure you tell him to cut loose sometimes, okay? Don't blame himself for everything, like if Mom gets drunk or Dad has a breakdown or Summer murders a barista or I don't get any better and he can't do anything to stop it. Tell him to keep those grades up, play his soccer, and that there's no luck with pot." Seth yawned, smacking his lips lightly as it petered out. He let out a little groan. "And uh, tell him he's a good brother, huh?"

Ryan felt his heart catch in his throat. "I'll uh, I'll do that."

"I knew you would," Seth said quietly. "Night, Ryan."

"Goodnight, Seth."

ooo

Ryan burst into the guest bedroom, closing the door behind him, his heart pounding in his chest.

He hadn't cried since he'd gotten the news of Seth's cancer, at least not really, and he hadn't cried when Seth came home from the hospital after his bone marrow aspirations, tired and forlorn.

He couldn't actually remember the last time he'd cried about anything. 

But now he couldn't seem to stop himself.

An angry sob burst from his lips. He grabbed his math book from the desk and threw it against the wall with every ounce of strength in his body.

The damage was minimal.

The damage wasn't enough to soothe his rage.

Ryan leaned heavily on the door, his body sliding to the ground. He buried his head in his hands and cried.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

"Honestly Cohen, you look like you're hiding from the paparazzi," Summer said with a giggle.

Seth was slouched in a beach chair, wearing baggy sweatpants and a zip-up hoodie, completing the look with a ratty baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses that were much too large for his face, both of which he'd borrowed from his dad.

"It's hard to be fashionable when you're freezing cold all the time," Seth grumbled, but it felt good-natured, what Ryan had learned to call a kvetch in the Cohen household. "Seems like you're scantily clad enough for the rest of us though." He smirked at Summer. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

Summer threw a chip at Seth, who clumsily batted it away onto Summer's beach towel, and they both laughed.

Ryan looked on in amusement as he grabbed a Mountain Dew from the cooler. He leaned back in his own chair and closed his eyes, allowing their banter to wash over him without really making out what it was they were saying to each other.

Somehow the past few days had seemed to go by both at warp speed and with excruciating sluggishness. The days individually seemed to drag on, but they were also hurtling too fast towards the day that Seth would leave the Cohen household and take up residence in the cancer ward.

The pediatric cancer ward, Seth was quick to point out, with more than a touch of bitterness. It was infantilizing enough, how much the cancer sapped his energy and his strength and his independence, without the added indignity of being surrounded by actual little kids.

He'd toured the wing after his latest appointment and come back aghast.

"They had a clown visiting, Ryan. A clown." Seth shook his head. "And the nurses were perky. And not like, hot and down for kinky stuff perky, but like two seconds from patting me on the head and giving me a lollipop perky." He proceeded to work himself into a mini-frenzy contemplating ways to hack into the hospital computers and adjust his birth date by just a few years.

Ryan had pointed out that the adult wing probably didn't have an Xbox in their common room, which had given Seth some pause, and Kirsten and Sandy had mouthed and gestured their gratitude at Ryan behind Seth's back.

Sandy and Kirsten were happy with anything that could bring Seth a moment of comfort or happiness or feeling better about his situation, and it sadly felt like only crumbs were available in that department.

Ryan took a long sip of Mountain Dew.

A lot had happened in just a few days.

The second opinion had come and gone as expected, quietly and without fanfare, and it felt fortunate that no one had seemed to have any real hopes riding on it.

Summer came by every day after school and stayed late into the night. Her father and step-mother didn't seem to mind, and she seemed to keep Seth both happy and distracted, so Sandy and Kirsten weren't about to force her to go home. Since Seth's bedroom had been declared off-limits, they posted up on the couch, Summer resting in his arms or, during his more tired moments, Seth leaning his head on her shoulder. They were like they were in that moment on the beach, bickering innocently and trading playful insults, but always with an underlying tenderness between them.

Sandy and Kirsten had met with Dr. Kim and assured Seth that it had been a promising meeting, that things were somewhat open-ended but that there were different options, that significant energy and thought would go into making sure that Seth didn't need to repeat a grade. Seth seemed skeptical but also resigned to the whole thing being out of his hands, and only put up a mild fuss when he was forbidden from attending school for the rest of the week.

And through all that, it was hard to get a good read on how Seth was feeling about other things: the cancer, the hospital, the uncertainty that was plaguing all of them. 

It was one of the problems with the kvetch, Ryan had discovered. Despite his flagging energy, Seth was still able to expound at some length about aspects of his present state, but it was all delivered in the same sardonic fashion, so it was hard to gauge any actual emotion and hard to know how to respond.

An I'm sorry, man. That sounds painful/sad/disgusting/terrifying felt like an inappropriate response to a comedic monologue, even if said monologue was about chemotherapy and its many heinous side effects, or cancer survival rates, or the totally made-up but semi-plausible scenario that some mid-rate professional football player would decide to visit the cancer kids and Seth would end up getting his picture in the paper, bald and sickly and in a hospital gown, and then he could finally truly--for real this time--never show his face at Harbor School again.

Ryan could tell that that part was hard for Sandy and Kirsten too, knowing how to respond to Seth, how to not get awkward when he dropped cancer jokes or losing-his-hair jokes or death jokes.

Sometimes Seth seemed to pull his punches a little around his parents, but sometimes, for whatever reason Ryan couldn't figure out, he either couldn't or didn't want to.

And now they were getting closer to it, the thing that was heavy in the air but that no one was really talking about: Seth would be checking into the hospital the next day.

Sandy and Kirsten had reserved Seth's last evening at home for a family dinner and movie night, but Summer and Ryan had essentially been given free rein over his afternoon, with the only stern command that they weren't allowed to exhaust Seth.

It turned out that was a difficult command to follow, as you couldn't really bet on Seth having energy for much. 

"Maybe I'm just leaning into this cancer thing, Ryan, but I feel a thousand times more like dog shit than I did a week ago," was how Seth put it when he needed to take a lengthy break between putting on his left shoe and putting on his right shoe. 

Seth's cell phone went off, interrupting his back-and-forth with Summer.

Ryan glanced at Seth as he fumbled for his phone.

"My dad," Seth announced, squinting at the screen. "Better pick up or he'll be calling in the National Guard." He rolled his eyes as he flipped open the phone. "Oh hey dad," he said, tone overly bright. "I was so hoping you'd call."

Ryan snickered as he half-listened to Seth's exasperated end of the phone call. He anticipated a well-timed You'd think I had cancer from Seth upon hanging up.

He jolted a little in his chair when he felt something grazing his hand.

Summer's hand was warm as it found his.

He looked at her.

"Do you think it's going okay?" She asked quietly.

Ryan had spent almost an hour on the phone with her the previous night to finalize their plans. They'd settled on a day at the beach, figuring the movies wouldn't provide Seth with the fresh air he'd soon be so desperately lacking.

Summer had thrown herself into strategizing around all the details, how to stake out a choice spot on the sand that would be close enough to their car and to the bathrooms that Seth would be able to manage okay, which foods Seth was tolerating at the moment, and which of Summer's many beach chairs would be most comfortable for Seth and his aching joints. 

Right around the time Summer was musing aloud about whether Seth's cancer meant he needed a stronger SPF, she'd abruptly stopped, her voice cracking.

"I just...I just want tomorrow to feel special, ya know?" 

Ryan smiled at Summer and squeezed her hand back. 

"It's perfect," he said softly.

ooo

Sandy pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

He had a pounding headache, but he also had a long to-do list ahead of him before he could go home.

He'd wanted to feel on top of the restaurant situation before Seth went to the hospital, but he'd been finding it difficult to really apply himself to the work. 

It was easier at the PD's office, each case with a kind of formulaic script that he could march through in his sleep. File for a continuance and kick a few cans down the road, show up at a status conference and give a quick update, have a few changes of pleas and move a few clients off his caseload.

He was starting to wish he'd never gotten involved in the restaurant. It took a kind of energy and attention he just didn't have, and he had no idea when or if it would return. 

Jimmy sat across from him, inhaling some Chinese food.

"You sure you don't want any, Sandy?" Jimmy held up his carton of moo shu pork.

"Huh?" Sandy glanced from Jimmy to the take-out carton. "Uh, no, thanks." He tried to smile, but he could feel it not quite landing on his face.

"Something wrong?" Jimmy asked, mouth half-full with moo shu. He plopped the carton on the table and reached over, shutting the account book Sandy was working in.

"Just trying to make sense of the numbers." Sandy tried to reopen the book, but Jimmy kept his hand pressed firmly over it.

"C'mon, Sandy. You've been in a daze this past week. You hardly talk, you don't eat..." Jimmy trailed off. "And no offense, but you look like hell. Don't try and tell me nothing's going on."

Sandy looked away. He wasn't sure if he was more touched or irritated by Jimmy's prying.

He hadn't told Jimmy yet. 

To be more precise, he hadn't told anyone that didn't--strictly speaking--need to know. And that had felt wrenching in itself, putting it out into the world and receiving in return the stilted expressions of sympathy from Sandy's boss and Dr. Kim and the people Kirsten needed to coordinate with at The Newport Group.

"Sandy, we're friends now," Jimmy went on. "You can talk to me." Jimmy looked concerned. "I mean, you and Kirsten always listen to my problems; it's starting to feel a little unfair."

Sandy toyed with his pen, twisting it around in his fingers. He wasn't sure how it would feel to tell Jimmy, or if he really wanted to, but it wasn't like he could hide it much longer.

And, he supposed, Jimmy was a colleague too, a partner. He would no doubt have some interest in Sandy's soon-to-be fluctuating availability.

"Seth..uh...Seth is sick," he said, voice coming out in a raspy half-whisper. God, the words hurt. "Leukemia." That particular word sent a nail into his side every time.

"Oh wow, Sandy." Jimmy's eyes widened. He blew out a long breath, mouth faltering awkwardly. "I'm so...I'm so sorry." Jimmy paused. "Is there anything I can do for you or Kirsten...or Seth..oh man, I'm sorry." 

It turned out that Jimmy's sympathy stung too, and felt no less awkward or stilted than it had at work or with Dr. Kim.

"I uh, I can't think of anything at the moment. But thank you, Jimmy. I appreciate it. I really do." Sandy forced a smile. "And Seth will be okay. It's going to be a lot, but he's tough." He forced his tiny smile to get a little wider.

For some reason all of these conversations seemed to lead to him trying to comfort and reassure the other person.

"That's so rough," Jimmy said, face screwing up into a sympathetic frown. "But look, you need anything, I'm right here." He paused, wringing his hands. "I mean, time off from the restaurant...someone to talk to...moo shu pork." He held up the takeout carton, and both men chuckled nervously.

"Thanks, Jimmy." Sandy tapped his fingers on the account book. "I just really have to get this done. Seth goes to the hospital tomorrow and we want to have a nice dinner at home tonight."

"Forget about it," Jimmy offered enthusiastically, grabbing the book from Sandy. "It'll be here whenever you're ready." He paused. "That is, assuming you don't trust me with the finances."

Sandy hesitated. "I'll uh, I'll take it with me," he offered. "I'm sure I'll need something to do in the hospital." He gave Jimmy an appraising look. "You sure it's okay if I cut out early?"

"Go," Jimmy insisted. "You need to be with your family." 

"Thanks, Jimmy." Sandy stood up and started haphazardly shoving things into his briefcase. "I'll see ya."

"Take as much time as you need. It's really no problem." Jimmy gave him a reassuring smile. "And I'm sure he'll be okay. Give me a call, let me know, huh?"

"Thanks, I will.” Checking his watch, Sandy hurried out of the restaurant to his car, more than ready to go home. 

ooo

When the kids returned to the Cohen house, Kirsten and Sandy were sitting on the couch, trying to pretend like they hadn't been anxiously awaiting their arrival.

"How was your day?" Kirsten closed the magazine she hadn't been reading.

"Good. It was good.” Seth pulled off his sunglasses and hat, which he tossed on the couch. "I'm just going to walk Summer to her car, okay?"

"Of course, sweetie." Kirsten smiled warmly at Summer before looking back at Seth. "Dinner will be waiting, okay?"

The don't take too long was clearly implied.

"I'll just be a minute." Seth offered his mom a shaky smile.

Things were starting to feel real to Seth in a way that was distinctly uncomfortable. He was just going to walk Summer to her car, but it would also be the last time he'd see her before he went to the hospital.

And then he was going to go and have his last dinner at home before the hospital.

He'd initially been glad to have a few days at home before having to check in to the cancer unit, but right then he was wishing there hadn't been quite so much build-up around it, each last thing becoming a stupid momentous occasion.

Slinging his arm across Summer's shoulders, they quietly walked out of the house and down the driveway, Seth idly wondering if one or both of his parents were watching from the window to make sure he could successfully make it back up the driveway on his own.

It probably went without saying, but the past several days had sucked mightily.

"So...tomorrow?" Summer's voice trembled a little.

Seth smiled down at her. Her eyes looked wet. He hugged her close and kissed the top of her head.

"It'll be okay," he whispered. It was almost helpful, seeing her sad, seeing a thing he could do other than stew in his own thoughts and his own anxiety. He couldn't successfully reassure himself, but he could give it the old college try with Summer.

Summer pulled back a little and kissed Seth, one hand gently stroking his curls.

"I really do have to go," Summer said sadly, pulling away a little. "My dad wants me home."

Seth kissed her forehead. "It's okay. I have to go too."

Summer wrapped her arms around Seth's waist and hugged him closer, inhaling the scent of fabric softener and the soap he always used. She closed her eyes.

"I have something for you," she whispered into Seth's chest.

"So we're doing it in the car these days, huh?" Seth waggled his eyebrows. "Or against the car, I guess. Pretty kinky, but I'll take it."

Summer smacked his chest lightly. "Ew, no." She opened the passenger side door and grabbed something, which she held behind her back. She brushed the hair from her face with her other hand and smiled sweetly. "I wanted you and the Captain to have a friend." She produced Princess Sparkle from behind her back.

Seth pulled Summer into a one-armed hug and kissed her temple.

"Aw, Summer you don't have to give her up. Although Captain Oats will be most pleased with milady's hooves." He looked at Summer solemnly. "We'll take good care of her, I promise."

"You'd better." Summer hid her face in Seth's chest so he wouldn't see her teary eyes. Once she felt properly composed, she kissed him one last time, a long, slow kiss.

"I'll see ya, Cohen," she whispered softly.

"See ya, Summer."

Their hands lingered on each other until they finally parted.

ooo

The Thai food containers were set out at each place when Seth made his way back into the house.

"How was that?" Sandy asked.

"Fine...it was fine." Seth waved a hand, his mouth twitching. He cleared his throat. "Um, so we're ready to eat?" he asked hoarsely, pulling out the chair next to Ryan.

"Ready if you are." Kirsten came up behind him with a stack of napkins.

Seth nodded and took a sip of water, trying to regain the steadfast composure he was almost certainly known for.

Ryan shifted in his chair, feeling uneasy. 

It was hard not to feel like he was intruding. He'd offered to clear out of the house so that Sandy and Kirsten could have some alone time with Seth, but they'd insisted that they wanted him there, that it wouldn't be a family dinner without him, but he was sure that they just didn't want to hurt his feelings or upset Seth.

Ryan never questioned that Seth wanted him around.

Kirsten passed out napkins and silverware and sat down across from Ryan.

The atmosphere felt notably subdued as everyone started to eat.

It was weird.

The Cohens talked more than any people Ryan had ever met. Mealtimes were filled with chatter, overlapping conversation, wordplay, jokes and callbacks to old jokes, and heated but playful debates about topics Ryan would've never imagined anyone would ever care enough to have an opinion on.

It didn't feel like a Cohen family meal.

After what felt like an interminable silence, Sandy cleared his throat.

Ryan glanced up warily.

"I uh, I'm glad we decided to do Thai tonight," Sandy said slowly. He smiled a little. "It was either this or The Happy Clam Palace."

Seth's fork clattered onto the table. "Oh my god," he muttered.

This had the makings of a classic Sandy Cohen Yarn.

"The Happy Clam Palace?" Ryan asked, playing the role of dutiful audience member.

"Don't encourage him." Seth rolled his eyes, but he looked like he was trying to hold back an exasperated smile.

Kirsten laughed.

"For many years, The Happy Clam Palace was Seth's favorite restaurant," Sandy explained. "In fact, when we moved here, I think it was about the only thing he liked about Newport."

"This in spite of the truly terrible food," Kirsten added.

"Okay, I was like, four years old," Seth argued. "And they gave you a crown; who's going to turn down joining the royal family at that age?"

"A crown?"

"Yes Ryan, a crown," Seth reiterated. "A Happy Clam Crown, to be specific. It had a kind of maritime royalty theme going on, if you couldn't tell from the name."

"I'm sure we have a picture of Seth on The Happy Clam throne somewhere."

"Picture?" Kirsten snorted. "I think we filled an album."

"She's exaggerating," Seth said. "We didn't go that often."

"That's fair," Sandy agreed. "The charm wore off after not too long." He grinned. "I'm pretty sure the last time we went was the night of the eighth grade formal."

"God, this story again."

"What story?" Ryan asked.

Seth glared at him. "You're a traitor, Atwood."

"Seth didn't want to go to the 8th grade formal," Kirsten started.

"Yeah, because I don't have a torture kink."

"Seth, don't say kink," Kirsten admonished him gently.

"But we wanted him to go," Sandy picked up the thread of Kirsten's story.

"...because they both have some latent masochistic tendencies," Seth chimed in.

"We didn't want you to feel like you'd missed out," Kirsten said.

Seth snorted loudly.

"So anyway, I gave Seth the choice between going to the formal or going out to dinner at The Happy Clam Palace."

"And I called the old man's bluff."

"So to The Happy Clam Palace we went."

"And do you want to know what this lunatic did, Ryan, what he's about to tell you about with, like, actual glee?"

"What?" Ryan glanced between all of the Cohens.

"He told them it was my birthday," Seth hissed.

Sandy and Kirsten laughed.

"Your birthday?" Ryan's brow wrinkled.

"My birthday, Ryan." Seth's nostrils flared. "Have you ever had a man in a giant clam costume sing you For He's a Jolly Good Fellow, Ryan?" He shivered. "I still have nightmares about it..."

"It was genius," Sandy insisted.

"Was it genius, or was it maybe one of your more psychotic moments as a parent?" Seth rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And wait, how was it genius? You didn't get me to go to the dance like you wanted." He turned to Ryan. "He threatened an escalating series of mortifying moments if I didn't go." Seth gestured at Sandy. "Can you believe how well-adjusted I am, despite this kind of unhinged parenting?"

"Wait, you didn't go?" Sandy asked, confused.

"No, he didn't end up going,” Kirsten said. "He called your bluff on that too."

"Really?" Sandy's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure?" He shrugged. "Well, I'm sure there was some other reason it was genius then."

Ryan laughed.

It was a Cohen family meal.

ooo

Chapter Text

Ryan idly nudged at a little spot of cream cheese that hung over the edge of his bagel, pushing it back into place on the bagel proper. 

It didn't really make the bagel more appetizing. 

It didn't really do anything.

"Morning all." 

Sandy's voice was cheerful, didn't wobble or break or trail off.

It didn't really help anything either, but Ryan noted it all the same. 

He glanced up, watching Sandy kiss Kirsten on the cheek, watching them whispering something between the two of them.

Seth was still asleep. 

Part of Ryan had wanted to say bye to him that morning, but it made sense that Seth needed his sleep, and it made sense that seeing him off like that might make the whole thing feel harder or weirder or more dramatic for him, might give him more opportunities to feel the full weight of an indefinite hospital sentence. 

There was this kind of intense strategizing that had started to happen in the Cohen household.

How to plan meals around Seth's nausea and his exhaustion. 

How to accommodate Seth's symptoms without calling too much attention to them..

How to make going to the hospital feel as okay as it could. 

"We are all about the consolation prizes these days, Ryan," Seth had said, after Sandy and Kirsten had come home with armfuls of graphic novels and some obscure handheld video game system he'd never played before. "You'd be a hero if you could figure out how I could weasel a car out of my current predicament," he'd added, waggling his eyebrows.

It created some kind of selfish pang in Ryan that he couldn't fully identify, knowing that he was going to go to school and come home and Seth would be gone.

He knew it was coming, but still, there was in it some whisper of older leavings, less announced and planned for and strategized around. 

"Well, today's the big day," Sandy said, still cheerful. 

Sandy always insisted on stating the obvious, a habit Ryan couldn't relate to, and barely knew how to respond to on a good day.

He recognized it as some kind of invitation to speak, to state what was obvious about what he was thinking or feeling, or maybe just to add a little comment or question to help keep Sandy's dialogue going, but he couldn't bring himself to humor his foster father. He felt guilty about it--it was hard to know what Sandy or Kirsten or Seth needed and then deliberately withhold it from them--but he wasn't sure what would happen if he tried to formulate a response, even for Sandy's sake. 

Instead he took a bite of his bagel and stared down at the plate, listening to himself chewing and breathing in and out and deliberately fuzzing the edges of whatever Sandy and Kirsten were saying to each other, so that he really had no idea what was going on around him. 

A few minutes later, still memorizing each little inch of that stupid bagel plate, Ryan felt a heavy hand fall onto his shoulder. 

It might've startled him, but even with all of his efforts to block everything out, he still seemed to know when someone was approaching, some part of his brain still vigilant and wary.

"I'll drive you to school, okay?" Sandy's voice was gentle and kind and non-confrontational, in a way that let Ryan know that he wouldn't try to make him talk, that he'd let the car ride be quiet. 

Ryan nodded without looking up.

It was time for school.

ooo

"Hey, Chino."

Ryan jumped a little.

Maybe he wasn't always so perfectly attuned to when someone was approaching. He slammed his locker door shut and turned towards Summer. 

Seth's Bright Eyes t-shirt hung loosely on her small frame, and was almost certainly against the Harbor High dress code, but Ryan didn't envy anyone trying to pick a fight with her on that one. 

"Scare ya?" Summer arched an eyebrow.

"A little bit, yeah," Ryan admitted sheepishly. "You going to see Seth today?"

Summer looked down at her shoes.

"He said he wanted a day to 'get the lay of the land' before I visit," she said softly.

“Ah.” Ryan was sure it had been hard for Seth to rebuff Summer, but Ryan was also sure that Seth wanted some time and space to figure out how to mitigate the weirdness of the pediatric cancer ward. 

That made sense to Ryan. He couldn't imagine wanting a girl to visit him under those conditions: cohabitating with little kids and brightly colored walls and parents never far away.

Seth had almost had an anxiety spiral the other day wondering whether or not he'd be forced to wear a hospital gown all day every day. 

Some time to settle in, to get the lay of the land and a sense of the wardrobe, seemed fair. 

And maybe Seth would need some time and space to sort his mind out, to make sure he could turn whatever he was feeling into an appropriately buoyant kvetch.

That sounded like Seth.

"You doing okay?" Ryan asked. 

Summer shrugged, biting her lip. "It's just...it doesn't feel real. And it's so weird with Cohen. I never expected to like him so much, and now..." She hugged her arms around her waist.

"Yeah." 

Summer sighed. "I told my dad about everything and he like, thinks I should break up with Cohen, like him being sick is all going to be 'too much for me'." Her face collapsed into a look of panic and she grabbed Ryan's arm. "Please don't tell Cohen I told you that."

"Of course," Ryan agreed quickly. "I wouldn't."

Summer's grasp on his arm relaxed. "Sorry. I just...you do that whole one word answer thing and I guess I fill in the silences with things I definitely shouldn't be saying out loud." She exhaled sharply. "I guess I know how Cohen feels," she added, head tilting to the side as she contemplated that thought.

"Sorry," Ryan said. "It's okay to tell me about it though. I wouldn't tell Seth. And I'm sure that's hard, with your dad. I get needing to talk about it." 

"Thanks, Atwood." Summer gave him a little smile.

Ryan's lips twitched into a little smile, wondering if Summer noticed that he'd gone from Chino to Atwood in the span of forty-five seconds. 

If Seth were there, he'd probably expound for a good twenty minutes on what that meant, in terms of Ryan's presence in Summer's good graces and in her social circle. 

And if Ryan decided to share that bit of information with Seth when he visited him later, he was sure he'd get the full breakdown there too. 

It created some different kind of pang in him, realizing that Seth's rambling analysis of their lives and relationships and picking apart of minutiae would be on a time-delay now. 

Seth would probably bemoan that it was also dependent on Ryan's ability to observe and then report on all of the relevant minutiae of their lives and their relationships.

Ryan wasn't so sure he was the man for that particular job either. 

"And I mean, I wouldn't." Summer paused, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. "Break up with Cohen. It's not like I can just turn it all off, you know, because it might be too much for me." She rolled her eyes. 

"Like it's a business decision or something?" Ryan offered. 

"Exactly!" Summer smacked his arm lightly. "Like, 'ooh, chemo's just not going to work with my social calendar, time to move on.'" She caught Ryan's eye and they both laughed a little, with only the hint of a nervous edge. 

Seth had been encouraging everyone to make as many cancer jokes as they could possibly manage around him--"It's my process you guys, and as the one with The Cancer, I think I get to make the rules here"--but it still felt a little awkward to meet Seth in the dark humor place sometimes. 

A blur of red caught the corner of Ryan's eye, and he turned to see Marissa marching towards them, her expression livid, her eyes teary. She stopped, eyes darting between Ryan and Summer, as if she wasn't sure who to start with.

"How could you not tell me?" Marissa's voice was low and angry and had a dangerous edge to it, sounding the way she used to sound when she would call Ryan late at night and confess that she'd broken into her parents' liquor cabinet.

"Tell you what?" Summer's face was impassive. 

Marissa snorted. "My dad asked me at breakfast if I'd gone to see Seth lately...the poor kid. Naturally, I had no idea what he was talking about. 'Gee honey, I thought you'd know. I thought you and Seth were pretty good friends.'" Her eyes flashed. 

"Oh." Summer's eyebrows went up. "That."

Marissa zeroed in on Ryan. "All that time we talked on the phone, you never thought to mention that Seth has cancer?" Her voice chose that unfortunate moment to raise, just as the hallway chatter hit an unfortunately timed lull.

Said hallway chatter ground to an abrupt halt, students and teachers stopping what they were doing to stare at the trio.

Marissa looked abashed. She cleared her throat, adjusting her purse strap on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said, voice quieter as she glanced around. "It's just...Seth is my friend too. I thought we were all friends," she added weakly, eyes contrite and pleading.

The silence hung awkwardly in the air for a few beats. 

Ryan glanced at Summer, noticing that her impassive expression was slowly transforming into what looked like the beginning stages of a rage blackout. He placed a hand on Marissa's back and attempted to gently guide her away from Summer.

"Why don't we talk about this later?" he asked quietly. "I can call you after school." He paused. "I mean, I'm seeing Seth after school, but after that." 

"I'm really sorry, Ryan...I didn't mean to--" Marissa exhaled a frustrated breath. "And I know this must be--"

"I know you didn't," Ryan cut in. "It's okay. I..." he faltered, not exactly sure that it was okay, or that he got to decide that it was okay for her to do a thing like broadcast Seth's medical situation to the entire school, but he fell back on old instincts when it came to Marissa apologizing to him. He watched himself become quick to appease and quick to forgive, to give her the comfort she was asking for.

He could never really seem to tune into his own feelings until she was taken care of. 

"We'll talk later." He tried to maintain soft steady eye contact, tried to convey well enough that he wasn't mad at her or frustrated with her, even though he might've been both of those things, and maybe for Seth's sake he should've been those things.

He really didn't know.

He felt loyalty to Seth but then something else to Marissa that he couldn't quite name, something that was driving him to tell her that it was going to be okay, that they were friends, that they would work it out, even if he didn't know if any of those things were really true either, and didn't know that he knew how to figure out what was true and what he was just saying so that she wouldn't be so upset with herself. 

And for her part, Marissa nodded and said she was sorry again and gave him a slightly trembling smile before the bell rang and she moved towards her classroom and he moved towards his, and he didn't want to think about her, but all he could think about was his mom, and the way he'd lifted his hand to wave good-bye to her on the Cohens' patio, and even then, he'd wanted to tell her that it was all okay, that he wasn't mad, that they were still a family. 

He'd wanted to, but he didn't. 

ooo

Anna Stern took a quick inventory, making sure she had all the essentials. Lunch tray, of course, loaded up with an egg salad sandwich, a fruit cup, and a brownie. Everything seemed in order on that front. Small container of pineapple juice, check. Travel toothbrush, travel toothpaste, dental floss, check, check, check. 

Lunchtime had arrived.

She scanned the courtyard for a friendly face. 

Okay, so she was looking for one friendly face in particular. She hadn't talked to Seth in what felt like forever, even though she'd only been away for a week.

She was well aware that they had no chemistry as a couple, but having him as a friend suited her fine, or would suit her fine. 

Maybe she still needed a little time on that one.

Anna nibbled her sandwich thoughtfully, wondering why she hadn't yet spotted Seth's distinctive mass of curls amongst the sea of perfectly coiffed--and generally blonde--manes. 

"Yeah, man, he has cancer."

Anna's ears perked up. She wondered who the jocks at the table next to her were talking about.

"Dude, seriously?" 

Anna's brow furrowed, trying to listen as closely as possible. It wasn't like she knew that many people around Newport, and she probably had no idea who they were even talking about, but once the urge to know someone else's business took root, it could never die. 

"Dude, who is this again?" 

Anna tilted her head slightly, not wanting to miss it

"Umm...that really dorky kid. The one who gets his ass kicked all the time...What's his name?"

Anna froze, inhaling sharply. Her heart skipped a beat. 

No.

"You mean the one that bagged Summer?"

"Yeah, that one. The emo freak with the bad hair."

Anna swallowed a lump in her throat. 

No. 

"Cohen. Seth Cohen," the jock spat out finally, sounding quite proud of himself.

Anna stood up quickly. 

Some part of her brain was screaming that they were obviously wrong or misinformed or that maybe this was just the newest way that the popular crowd had decided to torture Seth--spreading twisted rumors to explain his absence when he'd probably just faked being sick so that he stay home and play video games with Captain Oats. 

Still, she felt her heart beating too fast in her chest and she strode quickly to the trashcan, dumping her whole tray. 

It was going to be ridiculous that she'd dumped an entire tray of food---like she was a character on some over-dramatic tv show--when she was going to find Seth in the Student Center and they'd laugh about Harbor High's ridiculous rumor mill and mourn together over the untimely loss of her egg salad sandwich.

It obviously couldn't be true. Seth couldn't just go and get cancer. 

It was probably just a story they'd concocted so that Seth would return the next morning to some cruel and bizarre nicknames related to cancer or losing your hair or vomiting uncontrollably. 

She pushed open the door to the Student Center and spotted Ryan and Summer on a couch, huddled closely together with grave expressions on their faces. 

Anna knew she should just leave them alone, but she wasn't sure she could.

"Hey guys," she said quietly. 

Summer looked up at her, eyes watery.

"I take it you heard?" Ryan's eyes always looked heavy and sad and tired to Anna, but they looked heavier and sadder and more tired than usual.

"So, it's true?" Anna crossed her arms. 

Summer nodded, looking down at the floor. 

"He was going to tell you.” Ryan sounded a little nervous. "He said you weren't home when he called."

Anna nodded. She had a message from him on her answering machine--something about wanting to talk to her and how beautiful Tahiti must have been for her and how he wished he could go. It had seemed a little strange then, but when Seth wasn't sarcastic and kind of emotionally detached, he could be just a little bit earnest and just a little bit dreamy with her. 

Now she couldn't help but wonder what he'd been feeling when he called. 

"I'm sorry," Anna whispered. She turned to leave.

"Hey, Anna?"

"Yeah?" Anna paused, her eyes brimming with tears. 

"Wanna sit down?" Summer gave her a little smile.

Anna sat down.

ooo

"Seth...hey Seth...c'mon kiddo, time to wake up."

Seth groaned and squeezed his eyes shut tighter.

"Go away," he mumbled into his pillow, trying in vain to push his dad's hand off his shoulder without looking.

"C'mon, kid. I'd love to let you sleep in more, but we need to get you up."

"What time is it?" Seth reluctantly opened his eyes to peer up at his dad.

"It's a little after ten. We need to get some breakfast into you before we go."

"Noon, right?" Seth yawned, trying--also in vain--to blink away some of his grogginess.

Groggy was pretty much his one mode, at the moment.

"Noon," Sandy confirmed, managing a smile. "Mom's going to meet us there. And hey, in case you're not feeling like a balanced breakfast this morning, I happened to pick up someone's favorite pie on my way home this morning," he added.

"A peanut butter pie? For me?" Seth smiled gamely. "Aw shucks, Dad. You sure know how to send a guy off in style."

"You betcha." Sandy's smile wavered a little, but he reached out and ruffled Seth's hair, chuckling as Seth tried to swat his hand away. 

It was consolation prize atop consolation prize these days for Seth, but it was easy enough for him to humor his dad with the hoped-for reaction.

Oh boy, pie. Sure makes a guy forget that his body is attempting to murder him. 

ooo

Sandy felt like he was memorizing his son's face, sitting there at the kitchen island, picking at his slice of pie.

In his mind, Seth was still a mop-haired, hyperactive, exuberantly affectionate five-year-old, running around with his toy horse. It didn't quite compute in his head that he was actually sixteen, closer to a man than to the little boy that he once was.

That he actually had cancer. That didn't quite compute either.

Seth shoved another forkful of pie into his mouth, hoping he was conveying a helpful amount of enthusiasm for his dad's gesture. He managed another few bites before pushing the plate away. 

"I'm uh, gonna go grab my bag.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. 

It was annoying, how dramatic and momentous every moment was continuing to feel for Seth. 

It was just a stupid duffel bag. 

That he was taking to the hospital.

For his cancer. 

Awesome. 

"Can I help?" Sandy asked.

"I'm good," Seth said, because I can still lift a duffel bag, you know, seemed a touch sassy for the occasion.

He made it to the first step before realizing he'd forgotten to ask if they could pick up batteries on the way. He turned back towards the kitchen. 

"Hey Dad, can we--"

"Seth--

Seth stopped short in the kitchen doorway. 

His dad was hastily wiping at his eyes. He sniffed and looked at Seth for a second before looking away. 

"What do you need?" Sandy's voice was soft and strained and he gave Seth a shaky smile, but he wouldn't look directly at him as he wiped at his eyes again.

"I, uh, I just..." Seth swallowed a lump in his throat, a slow buzzing growing in his ears. His eyes felt hot suddenly. "Never mind." He turned, making a beeline for the stairs. 

"Seth, wait," Sandy called after him. 

Seth scaled the stairs as quickly as The Cancer would allow, needing to put as much distance as he could between himself and whatever that was.

ooo

Seth stared blankly at the mural on the wall, taking in the puffy white clouds and the blend of colors attempting to resemble a sunset. He had some sharply worded feedback ready for whoever was responsible for this monstrosity, as he'd identified about a dozen ways he could've jazzed it up into something at least closer to a respectable piece of art.

"Sandy Cohen; I'm here with my son, Seth." A pause. "July 4th, 1988." 

His dad was leaning close to the receptionist and speaking quietly, but Seth picked up every word against his will. 

His mom was meeting them at the hospital, but she wasn't there yet. 

Seth wondered if it had felt like too much for her, being there for this part. 

Hell, it felt like too much for him, but he didn't exactly have someone he could tag in when he needed a break. 

A nurse walked by Seth, flashing him a sympathetic smile. 

He was reasonably certain he might vomit.

"We're headed this way," Sandy said, placing a hand on Seth's shoulder and starting to guide him in the right direction.

Seth followed numbly. 

A pretty nurse walked past them, pushing a young boy in a wheelchair.

The boy couldn't have been more than nine years old. His skin was stark white, and his lips were purple and chapped. He was bald, a truth of cancer treatment Seth hadn't yet been able to touch. 

He was quite attached to his Jewfro, thank you.

"You okay?" His dad asked. 

Seth nodded, but his head felt light. 

Sandy frowned, wishing he could come up with something comforting--or, failing that, at least something funny--to say. He didn't know how to make the moment any easier for his son. 

Did he promise him that everything was going to be okay for the little boy who needed his father's certainty, or did he hold back on the comfort because the sardonic teenager knew that his father obviously couldn't promise a thing like that?

And more to the point of the moment, did he acknowledge with Seth that he'd walked in on him crying so they could unpack that his father was optimistic, just also worried and stressed and sad for the pain his son was going through, or did he let it go without comment, leaving Seth alone to make of it what he would?

And then whose needs did either choice meet, Seth's or his?

ooo

Sandy flicked off the light in the bathroom and stepped back into Seth's room.

He stopped short, struck by the sight of Seth, who was eyeing the hospital bed warily.

It had to be a big step, getting into that bed.

A nurse had given them a quick rundown of some things, which was a bit of a mixed bag. Seth had been relieved to hear that he could more or less wear his own clothes, but the rehashing of the visitor's policies, with all of its hand-washing and screening for illnesses and possibility of protective equipment had put him off a bit--"Oh good, Summer's going to feel like she's visiting E.T. That'll get her hot."--as had the ensuing discussion about the possibility of stretches of isolation, with only his parents allowed to come into his room, if anyone was allowed in at all. 

Seth hadn't been able to manage a smart remark about that one.

Admittedly, that discussion had filled Sandy with a fair bit of dread himself. 

Seth tended to get stir crazy when he was laid up sick for more than a day or two. He'd probably set back a fair number of flus and colds--and the occasional broken bone--by his unwillingness to slow down and follow doctor's orders. Sandy, who could vividly recall reading Seth the riot act when he'd caught him out on his skateboard with a 102 degree fever, couldn't imagine what it'd be like for him to be isolated in a hospital room for days on end. 

He made a mental note to ask someone about counseling for Seth.

In truth, they probably all needed it, but Sandy was feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of what Seth's day-to-day life was going to be like, his world rapidly shrinking to one hospital and, potentially, one room. 

Which brought them back to the bed.

"We could--" Sandy started, thinking maybe they could take a walk down to the cafeteria or to the gift shop, something to delay the moment. 

Although, was that even allowed? He trailed off as he tried to think it through. He hadn't thought to ask if, once Seth checked in, he was even free to roam around other areas of the hospital without clearing it with someone first. 

It felt wrong, surrendering some level of parental control to the invisible hospital authorities who made those kind of policies, who might not care if Seth needed a few minutes to be somewhere else right then.

"I'm pretty tired," Seth cut in, before Sandy could finish his thought. He fiddled with the plastic bracelet looped around his wrist. "I think I'm just gonna nap."

"Of course," Sandy said quickly.

Seth pulled back the sheets and slid into the hospital bed. He turned toward the other wall and tugged the blankets over himself, squirming around until he found a comfortable enough position. 

Sandy and Kirsten used to laugh about how part of putting Seth to bed felt like watching a dog turn and turn in circles before settling into one spot. He'd roll around in bed, limbs flailing, little huffs of frustrated breath escaping his lips until he found the magical perfect bodily position, which never seemed to be the same from night-to-night.

"Hey, Dad?" 

Sandy blinked. "Yeah?”

"I uh, forgot to bring batteries. Could you maybe run down to the gift shop and get some?" 

"Of course." 

"And you can get lunch or whatever," Seth added. "I'm just gonna sleep."

"Okay." Sandy nodded, getting the sense that, whether or not he was actually going to sleep, Seth wanted the room to himself for a time. Though Sandy wanted very much to stay to stay, he again wasn't sure if that was more for his sake or for Seth's. 

He approached Seth's bed and tentatively laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

To his surprise, Seth reached out a hand and rested it for a long moment on top of Sandy's. 

"I uh, won't be gone long," Sandy said softly. 

Seth's hand retreated back under the covers and he burrowed his head further into his pillow.

And, with nothing else to be said or done, Sandy left, easing the door closed behind him. 

Chapter Text

Ryan chewed his lip as he approached the door to Seth's hospital room. 

It was stupid, but since he'd moved in with the Cohens, he'd started to hate showing up places by himself. It made like he was intruding, like the people there--even when it was just a boring Newpsie party--would be scrutinizing him more closely, questioning how he could possibly feel welcome without one of the Cohens or Marissa to legitimize his presence. 

And then there was that low-level persistent buzzing hypervigilance in him, constantly wary that he was going to infringe on Cohen family time, that they'd allow him in only because they felt obligated to, but that they'd really prefer their privacy.

Taking a deep breath, Ryan knocked on the door and tentatively eased it open.

"Ryan, great." Sandy practically bounced up from his chair, eagerly waving him inside. 

The Cohen men tended to bring a great deal of enthusiasm to welcoming him wherever he went. It could be a little much at times, but also reassuring, Sandy and Seth telegraphing clear signs that he was wanted. 

Ryan had slowly learned to pick up on those quieter signals from Kirsten, signals that could be hard to untangle from her instinctive waspish politeness: a squeeze on the arm as she walked by, or sliding him a glass of orange juice after she poured one for herself, or her eyes flashing in relief when he rescued her from being alone with the Newpsies.

Sitting beside Sandy's now-empty chair, Kirsten didn't bounce to her feet at the sight of Ryan, but she gave him one of her small smiles that put him a little more at ease.

He returned the smile shyly.

"Hey dude." Seth sat up in bed, a copy of The Brothers Dostoevsky open on his chest. 

"Little light reading there, man?" 

Seth made a face. "Trying to keep up with Russian Lit, but I don't think this was written with the cancer-addled brain in mind." He slid the paperback onto the nightstand. "I guess the tutor's coming Friday, so we'll see how it goes." His eyes lit up a little. "But hey, maybe you can help me work on my approach with her. I'm thinking maybe play up the whole pathetic and feeble and consigned to my hospital bed thing?" 

"Work on getting you some easier reading material anyway?" Ryan offered.

"Just think of the untapped potential of the Russian graphic novel market. You just know the Mother Land has produced some truly absurd superheroes." 

"Do they even have spandex in Russia?"

"Hey guys?"

Sandy looked apologetic, like he was butting into an important conversation, as opposed to meaningless babble that was about two seconds from devolving into talk about superheroes with wool capes and giant furry hats and a bottle of vodka in each hand.

"We're just going to run to the cafeteria." Sandy looked between the boys. "Do you want anything?" 

"I'm uh, good," Ryan said, as Seth murmured similar sentiments, and Sandy and Kirsten quietly slipped out of the room.

"How was school?" Seth asked. "Did I miss any excitement?" 

Ryan considered the question. 

The only real excitement in the Harbor halls had been the news spreading that "that emo kid" had been diagnosed with cancer. The news had clearly filtered through to the faculty too, as teacher after teacher had asked Ryan if he'd wanted to go check in with the guidance counselor and offered stilted and awkward--and frankly pretty perfunctory--concern for Seth. 

"Did Karen Matthews throw up in the water fountain again?" Seth continued his interrogation. "Any messy break-ups on the quad? Were the librarian and the janitor caught 'getting their freak on,' under the stairway again? I, for one, am rooting for those crazy kids. Fill me in." He sighed. "I'm in desperate need of entertainment here. All I've done all day is lay here while my parents gawk at me like I'm some kind of sickly zoo animal." 

There was a long beat of quiet. 

"What?" Seth demanded. "You're giving me the sickly zoo animal eyes here, Atwood."

"People, uh, found out.." Ryan averted his eyes. "About this, I mean." He glanced at Seth. 

"Oh." Seth shrugged. "Well...bound to happen sometime. I'm just glad it's not while I'm still there. Far be it from me to consider myself above pity sex from a sympathetic freshman, but I'm a taken man now." His face wrinkled in confusion. "Wait, how did people find out? Like, six people know." 

"I guess Jimmy told Marissa and she was upset that no one told her..." Ryan trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.

"Ah." Seth nodded. "And a loud and dramatic confrontation ensued?" 

"She didn't mean to," Ryan offered weakly. "And I mean, she was more upset that you're..." he flinched a little. "Sick."

"I don't really care," Seth said. "Maybe I should've told her." He paused. "I guess with Marissa I just don't know where I stand." He looked at Ryan, a contemplative finger raised in the air. "You're not dating her anymore, so she's no longer my best friend's girlfriend...and we were never friends before that. Is it a breach of etiquette not to inform her? What is she in relation to me? I mean, her mom is dating my grandfather, so potentially she could be my...hmmm...my Aunt Marissa. Am I obligated to inform my Potential Aunt Marissa about any and all medical developments?" 

"You told who you wanted to tell," Ryan said. "And anyway, she wasn't mad at you really." 

"Oh." Seth offered a sympathetic wince. "Sorry, man. Didn't mean to get you in the doghouse with...well, your ex, I guess." 

"It's fine." 

There was another awkward beat of quiet.  

"Summer's coming in a little bit," Seth said. 

"Oh?" Ryan's eyebrows went up. "She said she wasn't coming today, that you were getting the uh, 'lay of the land.'" 

The corner of Seth's mouth twitched.

"I acquired the lay pretty quickly, if you can imagine." Seth gestured to the four beige walls and the colorful curtain on a runner next to his bed and the various pieces of intimidating-looking medical equipment surrounding him. "And I mean, I'm starting chemo tomorrow, and I figure my sex appeal will be taking something of a hit when I'm barfing up all my organs, ya know? Maybe better to schedule some face time before that."

"That, uh, makes sense, I guess." 

Ryan knew that it hadn't been so much fun to be Seth for the past week or so, but he'd seemed to be keeping himself more or less outwardly afloat somehow. But right then, lying in bed, he looked suddenly deflated, his shoulders slumped, his eyes hooded, his mouth set into a glum line, looking not just sick, but depressed. 

"Plus, if she comes today, then maybe I can push off her next visit for a while." Seth picked at a loose fuzz on his scratchy-looking blanket.

"You don't want her to come?" 

"I don't know," Seth admitted. "The zoo animal thing is just a lot. I mean, worse than I imagined, and I imagined it would be pretty bad." He swallowed. "My parents just sit there hovering and then all these nurses and people keep coming in and out of here, calling me 'Champ' and 'Kiddo,' and smiling like they're on a parade float." Seth mimicked the look, eyes huge and blinking, mouth stretched into an unnaturally huge grin. "And they knock, but then open the door as they're knocking, which kind of like...defeats the purpose of knocking." He exhaled a heavy breath. "I dunno, it just feels like everyone's looking at me like I'm more pathetic than usual, which makes me feel...more pathetic than usual, I guess." 

It was, for Seth, an outpouring of grievances without the usual wry smile or spin on things, without his usual attempts to at least amuse himself with his kvetching. 

"I-I'm sorry man." Ryan faltered, not sure what he could say to that. Seth had never been one to express much in the way of genuine emotion with him, maybe not with anyone. 

"I'm sorry, dude. I don't mean to dump all this on you. I'm just tired." Seth looked away, embarrassed. "And life had finally stopped sucking for awhile, and now it's like, made up of the suck." He swallowed. "And who knows if there's any point to any of this? I might do all this chemo and tutoring and barfing and..." he trailed off, giving a weary shrug. "I just kind of wish whatever was gonna happen would just happen. I've never been a fan of the lingering cliffhanger, you know?" He winced. "And now I'm dumping more on you...great." 

Ryan swallowed a lump in his throat, head feeling light. He often had nothing to say, but rarely had he ever wanted so badly for something to say. 

"Forget it." Seth shook his head. "Did you uh, read the Legion I left for you?" 

"Yeah." Ryan managed a weak smile. "It was awesome. And I want to talk about it, but I just need to make a call quick." 

Seth nodded. He bit his lip and looked away. "Sorry I made things weird, man." His voice was raspy.

"No, no, you didn't...you're fine," Ryan sputtered. "I just...forgot I need to call someone," he finished awkwardly, aware of how suspect he sounded, with his unspecified caller---as if he even knew that many people or called anyone on the phone. "I'll be back in a minute." 

"Sure." Seth grabbed his book and held it open close to his face.

Ryan slipped out into the hall, nagged by the feeling that he'd just fumbled the moment with Seth, but having no idea how to go back in there and fix it. He fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. 

After a few rings, a familiar voice sounded on the other line. 

"Hey Atwood, what's up?"

Ryan closed his eyes, suddenly aware that he wasn't quite sure what to say.

Calling Summer hadn't really been a fully-formed idea, more the wisp of an impulse that he knew he had to follow, the sense that he needed to prepare Summer for what she was walking into. 

And maybe more than that, he was in over his head and needed someone to be in on it with him. 

Even a month or two ago, it would've been hard to imagine that Summer Roberts would be that person---for him or for Seth---but somehow over time she had started to feel like a solid presence in his life, like one of the few people he could tentatively identify as dependable. 

And she was good with this stuff, and good with Seth. 

"Hey Summer," he said. 

ooo

Seth pulled the bathroom door closed behind him, noting with distaste that the hospital room toilet flushed in such an aggressively loud fashion that people three rooms over would probably figure out his bathroom routine after not too long. 

It was a pretty mild indignity---all things considered---but his brain couldn't seem to stop cataloguing and magnifying and analyzing each one as they accumulated. 

A shrink would probably say that he was focused on the petty indignities so he could avoid thinking about the looming spectre of the next day's inaugural bout of chemotherapy, but Seth liked to think his brain was capable of doing many things at once. So---thank you very much---he was simultaneously obsessing about the needles and the drugs with names he couldn't pronounce and the list of heinous side effects that seemed to stretch to actual eternity, while musing that neighboring patients would soon be able to mark the passage of time by his bowel movements. 

"Hi there," a soft, sultry voice purred. 

Seth whirled around. 

The soft, sultry voice---as it turned out---belonged to Summer. 

His girlfriend. 

His girlfriend who was standing by his hospital bed, wearing her pink-and-white striped candy striper jumper, the buttons on the white blazer underneath unbuttoned to an extent that probably didn't meet hospital decency regulations. 

Seth blinked. 

Were hallucinations some kind of cancer symptom they'd neglected to mention to him?

"I heard you needed someone to read to you." Summer bit her lip and batted her eyelashes, clutching a paperback book in one hand and twirling a lock of dark hair around her finger with the other. She tossed the book on his bed.

"Tropic of Cancer?" Seth read the title aloud. 

The sultry sex kitten routine slipped for a moment and Summer giggled a little.

"Best I could do on short notice," she offered with a goofy and slightly embarrassed and painfully endearing grin. 

"It's perfect," Seth said, laughter bubbling out of him. "Just the bedside manner I've been missing around here."

Summer laughed with him as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She smiled into his chest as he pulled her close to him. 

"I like the outfit." Seth kissed the top of her head. "Although aren't you worried about getting arrested for, like, impersonating a candy striper?" He looked around warily, like someone was going to jump out of the bathroom and citizen's arrest Summer. 

"Uh, I am a candy striper," Summer reminded him, the duh resounding in her voice.

"I know, but not in this hospital, and I don't know what kind of candy striper reciprocity policy exists in the state of---"

Seth was cut off by Summer's lips. 

He had to admit that kissing Summer was a welcome distraction. 

And he wasn't really sure where he was going with that one anyway.

"Mmm." Summer pulled back, biting her lip as she looked up at him. "You know, Cohen, this started as just kind of a morale boost thing, but I've gotta say, you're looking mighty fine in those pjs." 

Seth's face flushed, looking down at his gray t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. He hadn't exactly dressed up for Summer's visit. 

"The uh, invalid thing get you going?" 

Summer smacked his chest lightly. "I just, I dunno, I've never seen you in like, your night clothes." 

"Night clothes?" Seth snorted. "I just need a little nightcap and candle holder and then you won't be able to keep your hands off me." 

"Keep talking," Summer ordered, slipping back into her sex kitten voice and tracing her fingers along the waistband of Seth's pajama pants.

"My parents will be back any minute," Seth pointed out reluctantly. "Or any of a variety of nurses, not all of whom seem game to turn this into some kind of improbable three-way scenario."

"Relax, Cohen. Atwood is running interference." Summer smiled coyly. "The room is ours." She stood on tiptoes, initiating another long, lingering kiss.

Seth pulled away, although his head was swimming for decidedly un-cancer-related reasons and Summer was looking at him in that way that he personally could not resist. Still, something nagged at him. 

"Wait, when did Chino become Atwood?" He asked, momentarily thrown. "I've been here half a day and I miss such an important development?"

Summer put a finger to Seth's lips, instantly silencing him. 

"Cohen, do you want to stand here and analyze what I call Atwood, or do you want to get lucky?" Summer slowly slid her hand under Seth's waistband.

"Fair question," Seth conceded with an emphatic nod. "Let's uh, put a pin in that one." 

"Sounds good to me."

ooo

Sandy approached Seth's hospital room, a cup of coffee in each hand. He was surprised to find Ryan leaning against the wall outside of Seth's room, but figured maybe a nurse had come in for something and Seth had wanted a little privacy. He'd seemed a little self-conscious when medical personnel were poking and prodding him and he and Kirsten had been sitting there watching. 

"Hey, kid." 

Ryan started a little. 

"Sandy---hi." 

"I grabbed you a coffee." 

"T-thanks." Ryan took the coffee from Sandy's outstretched hand. 

"You okay, kid? You look a little..."

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Ryan forced a flustered smile. "I'm good, just you know..." He shrugged. 

"It's a lot," Sandy said sympathetically, reaching up and squeezing Ryan's shoulder. 

Ryan nodded, eyes flashing. 

It was a lot, yes, and what had started as Summer asking for five minutes of Ryan acting as a bouncer for Seth's room had somehow turned into twenty, with Ryan both having no idea how much longer it was going to take, and being painfully aware of his inability to tell a solid or convincing lie. 

To anyone, really, but especially to the Cohens. 

Sandy patted his shoulder a few times for good measure and then reached for the door handle. 

"You can't go in there," Ryan said quickly. 

Seth would be disgusted if he could see this performance. 

"God Ryan, you said the most sitcom thing ever. 'You can't go in there?' Why not give the game away right there?" 

"How come?" Sandy looked at him quizzically. 

"Seth is, um..." Ryan's eyes darted around. "He's crying," he finished, head bobbing up and down in a rapid fire nod. 

"Crying?" Sandy sighed. "Aw geez. I mean, I should've figured. It feels like everything is really hitting him now, and then with chemo starting tomorrow..." He ran a weary hand through his hair. 

"He, uh, said he wanted to be alone," Ryan added, looking down at the floor. He was flooded with guilt, seeing how worried Sandy looked. 

He hated to lie to Sandy on an average day, but it also felt like he was twisting a pretty big knife into his foster father.

His foster father, who was now looking at him like he was being ridiculous and reaching for the door handle again, about to walk into who knew what.

It seemed like Summer's five minute "morale boost" had perhaps gotten out of hand.  

"I know Seth might have said that, Ryan, but-----"

The door handle slid out of Sandy's hand as the door opened from the inside. 

Sandy stepped back quickly, shooting Ryan a confused look as Summer emerged, her back still to Sandy as she closed the door closed behind her. 

Ryan winced, bracing himself. 

Sandy's eyebrows shot up.

"Thanks, Atwoo---" Summer turned, realizing they weren't alone. "Oh, uh, hey, Mr. C." 

Summer's candy striper outfit, while now thankfully buttoned to the top, still hung in slight disarray, and she was pretty sure her hair was more than a little tousled. 

"I've actually...gotta go," she announced, willing herself to keep her head upright, to not look down to survey said level of disarray. She didn't wait for a response before striding quickly down the hallway, a mortified Ohmygod just audible before she turned the corner. 

Sandy turned to look at Ryan, eyebrows still looming high. 

"Crying, huh?" 

"Sorry.” Ryan winced sheepishly. 

Sandy put a hand to his brow, his shoulders starting to heave and shake. 

It took Ryan a moment to realize that the older man was laughing, and laughing rather hard.

"Ryan," Sandy gasped out, wiping tears from his eyes. "Who knew you would be coming in with the comedic relief today?" He barked out another laugh, gesturing down the hall to where Summer had beaten a swift retreat. "You and Little Miss Florence Nightingale over there." 

"We just---"

Sandy held up a hand. "I can imagine what you just." He shook his head. "I can't believe Seth is up for it about now, but then again, he is a Cohen man." 

Ryan's face wrinkled at that sentiment.

"Thank you, Ryan." Sandy took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure, although little chuckles continued to erupt from his mouth every few seconds. "That probably did a lot for Seth's spirits about now, and Hashem knows I needed a laugh today." 

"Can you uh, maybe not say anything to Kirsten about it?" 

Sandy wiped another tear from his eye. "Oh, don't worry. The last thing I want to do is corrupt Kirsten's image of her baby boy. This can stay between us." He paused. "And Florence, of course." That set off another round of chuckles.

"And uh, Sandy?" Ryan ventured, after the man's laughter had petered out a little.

Sandy looked at Ryan expectantly. 

"Maybe uh, don't let Seth know you know?" Realizing he was pushing his luck, Ryan tried his best to dummy up some puppy dog eyes. "You have a way of making things like that...weird...sometimes." 

Sandy snorted and clapped Ryan on the shoulder. "You know, Ryan, I would be hurt, but I'm simply too amused right now." He shook his head. "I’ll play it cool, I promise."

"Sure you will." 

"C'mon, let's go see how Casanova's doing in there. I think he's had enough time to get decent, wouldn't you say?" 

Sandy led the way into Seth's room. 

Seth was lying in bed, making another game attempt at reading his Russian Lit book, but Ryan noticed a hint of a pleased smile on his slightly flushed face.

"Hey, man," Ryan greeted him.

Seth looked up and caught sight of Sandy first, who was clearly struggling to bite back a giant grin. Seth's lip curled and he slapped his book down on the bedside table.

"You know, don't you?" 

Sandy snorted, which led into a loud chortle, followed by a few barely suppressed guffaws. 

Ryan shot him a look. 

Playing it cool was not exactly in Sandy's wheelhouse. 

"He knows, doesn't he?" Seth demanded, gaze now turning to Ryan. 

"Hey, I know nothing," Sandy claimed, holding his hands up innocently. 

"God, a guy can't get an ounce of privacy around here," Seth declared, face flushing bright red as he sunk his head further back into his pillow. He pointed an accusatory finger at Sandy. "You'd better not say I can't have girls alone in my hospital room." He crossed his arms. "A guy's entitled to a conjugal visit every now and then." 

Sandy burst into a fresh wave of laughter.

ooo

Later that evening, there was a soft knock on Ryan's bedroom door. 

"Come in," Ryan called.

"I like what you've done with the place," Kirsten commented upon entering, eyeing the peach colored walls and ruffled comforter and giving him a pained look. 

Ryan shrugged.

"I'll tackle this over the weekend, bring in a more manly color palette." Kirsten's smile was hesitant. "Maybe lose a few ruffles."

"You don't have to do that," Ryan said. "I'm fine, and it's...nice." 

"It's me having given the interior decorator too much creative freedom," Kirsten corrected with a little smile. "And please, I'd like to help make it more your own. I mean, if you'll let me." Her eyes crinkled up. "It's fun for me. I used to redecorate Seth's room all the time when he was little, changing the paint color, getting a new bedspread or art for the walls..." She looked wistful. "It was...nice. Every time the things he liked changed or he changed, I got a little project out of the deal." Her lips twitched and turned down a little. 

Ryan bit his lip. 

As visiting hours had come to an end and Ryan was getting ready to leave the hospital with Kirsten, he'd sat in the waiting room and observed Sandy and Kirsten huddled together outside of Seth's door. Sandy had been leaning in close, whispering something to Kirsten. She'd nodded and then her face had crumpled and Sandy had hugged her close. 

It had felt wrong, intruding in that moment even from a distance, but Ryan had retained something of his old instincts from home, the drive to know what was going on, to track who was feeling what, to be prepared for what people needed and what was going to be asked of him and who to steer clear of until when.

That had felt wrong too, turning that power onto the Cohens, choosing his comfort over their privacy, but Seth's sickness had thrown things off for Ryan and the tentative hold he'd had on navigating their lives and routines and relationships. 

It felt like he needed to tread more carefully again. 

After Sandy had broken off the hug from Kirsten, she'd gone to the ladies room and Sandy had approached Ryan to say goodnight. 

Ryan hadn't asked for an explanation or admitted that he'd witnessed their interaction, but all the same Sandy said to him: "This is really hard for her. Of course it would be anyway, but with everything she went through with her mom..."

And he'd trailed off at that, eyeing Ryan like maybe he'd said too much, but Ryan was glad he'd said it, had felt like it was Sandy's way of asking him to look after Kirsten, to take care of her however he could while he spent the night in the hospital and she and Ryan went home. 

Sandy and Kirsten would vehemently deny that they wanted him to take care of them, but they didn't seem to get that that didn't absolve Ryan of his responsibilities; it just made it harder for him to know what those were. And it made it so that he had to let himself overhear and observe and look for signs that something was off or something was needed or someone was drinking again. 

Seth had said something about that, his mom drinking a lot when things were bad. Ryan had filed that information away. He wasn't sure how serious it was, or if it was really that serious---Seth could tend to hyperbolize and to kids whose parents could handle a night of heavy drinking without it turning into a weeks-long or months-long bender, an extra glass of wine here and there might've set off alarm bells. 

"I mean, that is, if this room is what you want." Kirsten looked at him earnestly.

She seemed sober, wasn't slurring or unsteady on her feet, but it could be hard to tell. Ryan's own mom didn't seem to care too much if people knew she was wasted, but Seth had made it sound like Kirsten was good at hiding things, that she worked hard to put on a sober face for the world. 

"You know, you're always welcome to stay in the pool house, of course...if that's what you want." Kirsten reached out and squeezed his arm. "You know, every birthday since he was about eight years old, Seth would beg us to let him move into the pool house." She bit her lip. "I know it can be nice, having more privacy, more space." 

"No..no..I like it here. It's, uh, it's good," Ryan insisted. "I don't even mind the ruffles." 

"Sure." Kirsten arched a skeptical brow. "Well, on the off-chance that you're just being nice about the decor, I think I'll hit the mall tomorrow afternoon." 

"Whatever you want." Ryan's brow furrowed, wondering where the mall trip would fit into her schedule, what with Seth's chemo starting the following day, but something told him not to bring that up.  

"It'll be good for me to have a project," Kirsten said softly. She cleared her throat. "Well, I'll let you get to bed." She stepped forward and hesitantly held her arms out to Ryan. 

Kirsten wasn't normally a very demonstrative person---Seth claimed he could count on one hand the number of hugs she handed out per year, and noted that they typically accompanied some kind of major holiday--but she'd been more affectionate with both boys in the past week. 

Ryan stepped into Kirsten's hug. 

Kirsten kissed the side of Ryan's head before pulling away. 

"Good night, Ryan."

"Good night, Kirsten."

Ryan watched her walk out and close the door behind her. 

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It had been a game when Seth was a little kid, pretending to be asleep. 

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