Master, Master {ManxMan} {BDSM}

Chapter Twenty-Three

{Chapter Twenty-Three}

"Your T cell count is elevated; however, we'll start you on a cocktail that may work. I'll warn you, it isn't an easy road to follow, but with the right dieting and exercise alongside the prescriptions..." I don't hear anything else; my hearing goes out, everything blurs together, like a dream.

That's what this is. It's a dream. A horrible nightmare, there's no way this is real. This can't happen to me, not me. I'll wake up any minute, David will wake me up and we'll go out, we'll meet up at the club, hang out with our friends. I didn't go into ER, they didn't send me to see a doctor the next day, I'm fine. It's all a dream. It must be.

"Jason," I hear David's voice call and when I blink, I feel something slide down my face, my vision clears enough for me to see Dave is in front of me. I blink again and realize I began to cry. The doctor is absent, leaving just the two of us in the room alone.

"I'm so sorry, David," I mutter, covering my face. He pulls my hands away from my face and cups it in his hands.

"Stop. You had no idea he was positive. It's over, it's done. I don't care anymore, I just want you to be healthy, okay? I want you to be happy. I want the world for you. And one stupid mistake isn't going to change that. I love you, Jason, and nothing will change that. I will always love you, I will always stick by you, through sickness and in health." He says, his eyes sparkling with his own tears. He leans in to kiss me before pulling me into his arms.

"I love you too," I choke past the lump in my throat. We pull away and he kisses me again before wiping my face with the edge of his shirt.

"It will be okay, trust me." Dave says, once again calm. When he says this, I do trust him, I know he's right, he would never lie to me. He's always going to look out for my best interest, before anything else.

We're quiet for a few minutes while we wait for the doctor to come back with the prescriptions. When he does come back he hands them, along with a few pamphlets to me to inform me about the virus. I take it all and he schedules another appointment a month from now to check on me.

After that we leave the doctor's office and head to my house, since I haven't been home in a few days and have been relying on Christian to feed Ozzy and generally make sure he's okay. Dave drives us through town, and I just watch everything pass by. Kids playing around, parents yelling but laughing; everyone is just going about their daily activities, oblivious to the threat of numerous diseases.

I snort, rolling my eyes to the radio to change it to a rock station rather than the Christian station Dave seems to enjoy. He glances away from the road to look at me in question.

"Nothing, just realized I'm becoming one of those annoying clichés in movies who stare out the window and think their life is suddenly so terrible." I grumble at him, answering his unasked question.

"You're going to be fine," he repeats what he said in the office. I nod, looking out the window again as my large house comes into view. Dave parks behind Christian's brand new, white Mustang. If I was in a better mood, I would have laughed my ass off at the bird poop on Christian's passenger's door handle. Instead I just make a note of it to make fun of him for later. We walk up to the house and I open the door, glancing around until I notice Christian conked out on my couch, the big white fluff ball sleeping on his chest.

I turn to David, suddenly terrified, as if what happened in the last forty-eight hours is just now sinking in. "Do I tell him?"

"He's your best friend, beloved, I feel it's for the best. He deserves to know."

"I'm scared. What if he gets mad? What if he never talks to me again?" I say in a rush. I cross my arms before uncrossing them to run my fingers through my hair, yanking it slightly.