Max P.O.V
     I sat, numb, in the plastic hardback chairs lined up in the hospital waiting room. What had happend a few hours ago had been...scary. I had never seen that side of Clayton. He just wouldn't stop. My hands were shaking, I clutched them tighter in my lap. Mama Jill reached over to rub my back.
      Franky was going to be fine, he only got plowed. Clay sure did a number on him. His eyes were swollen shut and he had screamed horribly when the doctor set his broken nose. I left before they set any of his other fractures. Amanda was still in the room with Franky and Roy... well, Roy went back to the house to talk to Clay. That could only end in tears.
     I still couldn't believe Clay had done that. I think that Franky might have had it coming, but... it was horrible to watch. Was that what happened between him and Hunter? Did Clay just snap and beat him like he did Franky? I felt sick. What if that had been me? When I pissed him off the other day, what if he had snapped then? Would he do the same thing to me? The look on his face when he had done it. It was pure hatred and anger, but then...it was just gone. He'd almost looked like he wasn't sure what had happened.
     I jumped when the cheerfully ringing of Mama Jill's phone brought me out of my head. She answered it tentatively.
     "Hello?... you are on your way to the hospital? Why? Roy what happened, what did you do?... ... ...Oh my god is he alright?! How di-... ... okay, okay drive safe." She said sounding worried, a hand covering get her mouth as she moved the phone away from her ear.
     Oh god, I think Roy killed my boyfriend.
     "Clay is on his way to the hospital. He had a seizure and won't wake up." She had tears in her eyes and suddenly I couldn't breath.
     "Mama, is he going to be alright?" My voice sounded so high and scared as I turned to hold my mother's hand.
     "I don't know."
     Damn...how had this all happened!? What went wrong? It was all rolling downhill  and I still wasn't completely sure what the hell was going on anymore!
     "S-should, should we tell Amanda and Franky?"
     I looked over at Mama Jill. She was asking me?
     "Yeah, we should at least tell Amanda." I said softly as she squeezed my hand. Franky might be overjoyed to know Clayton was in a coma or whatever.
     Oh god I just made myself feel sick by thinking that.
     She nodded, and neither of us moved. "Do you want me too?" I asked. She shook her head and stood up.
     "I'll be back in a bit."
     I'm not sure how long she was gone, but it was longer than a bit. Hell, Roy beat her back. I saw him come through the double doors and I stood up to meet him. He was pale and somewhere between scared, angry and confused.
     "Roy,"
     "Max," we said at the same time. He opened his mouth to speak, but I got my words out first.
     "Do you want to tell me what the fuck is going on?" In retrospect I probably should have rephrased that question.
     He blinked at me, lips parted. "I-...I...they took him into surgery."
     "Into surgery!? Why?"
     "They said there was a mass in his brain that was causing a short, making him fall into seizures." He looked at me. He looked...smaller, than he usually did somehow.
     "..." I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I hugged him instead. Good thing I'm so articulate, huh? He felt a lot like Clay as his heavy warm arms enveloped me. They even smelled similar, but Roy has a lingering smell of pungent cigars mixing with the cedar and wood smoke. I could smell Mama Jill's perfume at his collar. He rubbed my back and I felt my chest tighten. When had I started to see him as a father figure?
     We sat down in silence, Mama Jill joined us later and they talked, but I didn't listen as I retreated back into my thoughts. The sun was starting to sink when a doctor in navy blue scrubs came through the double doors and approached us.
     "Are you Clayton Inish's father?" Roy stood up, a head taller than the doctor. He looked at both Mama Jill and I before his eyes returned to Roy. "Clayton did just fine, we removed the mass and he will wake up within the hour. The surgery was simple and we took a biopsy and sent it to our lab. Maybe we should talk alone."
     Roy's expression didn't change, but he stiffened and took my mother's hand. "Wait here Max."
     I did as I was told, watching the doctor move away to a lonely corner of the room with Roy and Mama Jill.
     It was horrible. The doctor was talking, using his hands slightly. Mama Jill closed a hand over her mouth as tears glistened in her wide eyes. Roy looked devastated and turned away from the doctor, running a hand through his short dark hair, staring in disbelief at the floor. The doctor was still speaking calmly as Roy started to shake his head slowly. I met his eyes as he looked up. He took a shaky breath and turned his back to me.
     What was going on? What was wrong with Clayton?!
     When Roy next turned he looked like he might be sick. His jaw was clenched and the look on his face... it was self loathing? He pinched the bridge of his nose, squinting his eyes shut in a very pained way and running his hand back through his hair. He was saying something and Mama Jill put a hand on his arm. She nodded and walked back over to me.
     "What is wrong?" I asked as she took me by the shoulders and led me to the patient wing of the hospital. She had her lips pressed together and she simply smoothed my hair and kissed my head.
     That wasn't good enough.
     "Mama what is wrong with Clay?" I asked more firmly.
     "Max honey, Clay is very sick."
     I wasn't fucking six! Tell me what is wrong with him!!!!! She must have seen the anger and desperation on my face because she hugged me. "Roy will tell you, but baby Clay doesn't even know yet. We are going to see him. They think he should be waking up soon."
     If I though my stomach felted twisted then, it was nothing to how it felt when she opened the door to his room and I saw him laying motionless on the bed. His head was wrapped, a bruise on his left eyebrow, an I.V tube dripping steadily into his arm.
     I wanted to run over, touch his face, kiss his eyes, holding his hand, but I didn't. I froze and stared. A hand on my shoulder made me look up and I saw Roy, followed by the same doctor.
     "He came off of the ventilator right away and has good vitals. The nurse said he was starting to wake up." The doctor said,  as if pointing out the bright side of things.
     Sure enough Clay moved, turning his head, his eyes fluttering before he squinted them against the harsh florescent lighting. He brought a hand up to gingerly touch his forehead.
     "Dad?" He mumbled, the word slurred and ill-formed. The doctor moved to his side, grabbing his chart and a pen.
     "Clayton, my name is Dr. Tio. Your dad is here, but I need to give you a quick check first. Can you open your eyes and follow my finger for me?" He asked. Clay did as he was asked, squinting. Dr. Tio shined a little light into each of his eyes before moving back again. "Good. Now can you touch your fingers to your thumb one by one?" He asked demonstrating with his own hand. "Now make a fist, and touch your palm to mine." He said once the task was completed. "Good. How do you feel? Any pain?"
     "I don't have a head ache." He mumbled.
     "You've been having head aches? How long have they been going on?"
     "Everyday for almost a year, some days are worse than others." He said, looking as though he might try and sit up. Roy put a hand on his chest to keep him down. He was waking up more fully, looking around, piecing together what had happened. "I blacked out?" He asked Roy.
     He nodded. "You had has a seizure."
     "Why?"
     Roy looked like he was going to choke. He looked at Clayton, his lips shaking. ...He couldn't say anything.
     "You had a tumor disrupting the signals in your brain." Dr. Tio supplied. "We went in and removed that section, but it wasn't the only one. You have them honeycombed throughout your entire brain and it is inoperable and malignant."
     I didn't know what malignant meant, but judging by Clay's expression it wasn't good.
     "...that's what mom had." He said simply.
     "It is slow growing, but it has been doing so for many years, steming from the section that controls your circadian rhythm and branching into the sections that controls the distribution of testosterone and controls your metabolism. Have you had an increase in sex drive or aggression? Any weird sleeping patters? Being hungry more often even if you had just eaten?"
     The look of self loathing was back on Roy's face. He looked as if he should have know. He'd told me Clay had starting sleeping weird since he was six, but how was Roy suppose to know? It wasn't his fault.
     Clay was shaking his head. "Oh my god... oh, my god... Oh my god! So is not because I'm seventeen and horny with seven years of suppressed rage...it's because I'm dying of cancer."
     Cancer!?!?!
     "Yes, to everything. I have never slept right, I have beat the shit out of a few people I never wanted to, I keep ending up bending my ex over the arm of his couch and I am never not hungry." Clay said, frustrated, refusing to look at the doctor, or any of us. "I'll bet any amount of money I'm stage four too."
     "Clay stop." Roy said weakly.
     "Hopefully, with chemo and radiation therapy we can shrink the tumors to the point where operating is possible or maybe even eradicate them completely. You will have to start therapy as soon as possible."
     "Is it really that bad? Do I actually have a chance?" Clay asked bluntly. "They told my mother the same thing, but she was so sick she didn't want to die unable to get out of bed, so they told her to just spend her last months with us."
     There was silence in the room. The doctor looked him straight in the face, as if sizing him up. "Your case is very serious and I don't know if therapy will work or not, but I think you have to try."
     Clay shook his head staring at the ceiling, his eyes over-bright. I moved closer, I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but Clay made that decision for me. He reached out as soon as I was close enough and snatched my hand, pulling me almost onto the bed. He put a tender hand to my cheek and stole a passionate kiss...in front of everybody! I guess I can't be too mad, I kissed him back, but still...
     He broke the kiss and gave me a small pained smile. "I'm dying anyway, might as well go out a honest man." He started to sit up and swing his legs out of bed. Roy, Dr. Tio and Mama Jill move over quickly. Roy put his hands on his sons chest to keep him sitting.
     "Clay, lay down."
     "Dad, I have to leave I have to get out of here, please, I can't be here, please I just want to go home." He said trying to force some calm into his voice. He held onto Roy's wrists and looked up at his dad, scared. He was actually scared. "Please."
     Roy hugged him. "I know, we'll go home, but you have to lay down."
     I felt so sick, my throat was tight and my eyes burned. Roy was being so calm, why wasn't he freaking out. If his son was diagnosed with the same thing his wife had died from?...I would have already been crying.
     "Look, you are young and healthy-" Dr. Tio started to say, but Clayton scoffed and laughed scornfully.
     "Yeah, I'm so healthy." He laughed sarcastically, detaching himself from Roy. "They told mom that too. She was young and healthy, she could beat the disease." He said softly. "But she died." He nodded, giving Dr. Tio a sideways look. "You'll forgive me for not believing you. I don't have much faith in medicine."
     "... ...I'll give you some time alone." Dr. Tio said, backing out of the room and closing the door.
     Mama Jill coaxed Clay back onto his pillows. "We'll go too." She said, kissing Clay on the bruised eye. Roy kissed her cheek, whispering something as Clayton reached over to squeeze my hand briefly.
     "Don't tell Franky." He said firmly. Roy looked at him slowly. "Don't tell Franky." He said again. "I don't want him to know, please."
    "Okay." I said. "I'll make sure nobody tells him." I promised quickly. He let go of my hand and I took my mother's instead and led her out.
     Amanda was nothing short of distraught when we told her. She burst into tears and flung herself around my neck. She had held herself together so well today, but this was the last straw and she had nothing left to grasp at. So, she cried. Her face buried into my shoulder as she clung onto the back of my shirt, I felt her praying to God as she sobbed. My mother took her from me and sat her down, praying together for strength and healing.
     Once calmed down she apologized profusely. "Oh, Max, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" She asked suddenly.
     Was I okay? I...I wasn't sure. I had gone from numb, to scared, to numb, to sick, to horrified and back to numb. Honestly I was hoping this was all a bad dream. I, I liked Clay, a lot I suppose. To know he was sick made me scared. I wished I could do something. I wanted to be useful, I wanted to take the cancer away, take it onto myself, to do anything.
     No, no in wasn't okay. I felt like I was losing him. I was caught in a situation where I had no control and Clayton was being taken from me.
     "I don't think so." I said, reaching up to wipe away the tear tracks on Amanda's cheeks.
     "You, you are Clay are..?" Mama Jill asked, unable to bring to words what she was thinking.
     "Yes." I said shortly.
     "For how long?"
     "Not very long." I muttered.
     "And have you..." I watched her cheeks flush with color and knew mine did the same. She asked because she was concerned, but it was really something we never talked about.
     "No, we haven't." ...not exactly, but I figured her kind Catholic heart couldn't take it if I said that.
     Amanda giggled tearfully. "You two are so cute. The word 'sex', isn't going to bite you."   
     We all laughed a little bit before sitting in silence. We were all thinking the same thing. There was a long road ahead of us and laughter was going to be few and far between.
     They monitored Clayton for twenty-four hours before releasing him to go home. I was shocked, but Dr. Tio said new technology, tools and techniques kept the incision small. He would have to be careful and not bang his head, no fighting, rough housing, or working out until he was healed. In short, he had no freaking idea what he was going to do on the nights he didn't sleep.
     Franky had packed his things and left with Amanda before Clay got back. Amanda lingered long enough to to kiss him goodbye, promising to come back soon, while Franky pretended to sleep in the passenger side of the vehicle. Five minutes after Clay walked into the house Emmy was there, wrapping him in a hug and kissing him tenderly. I hadn't touched him since the hospital when he let go of my hand. It felt like all the questions I had just answered were replaced, but I couldn't hardly find Clayton to ask him anything.  He hid himself away, dissapearing for hours at a time only to move away again when he was found.
     I found him after one of these vapid stretches the second morning after he had come home. He was sitting on the back porch, blowing into his cupped hands. His breath was rising in a misty cloud, his cheeks pink from cold. He looked up at me from under the furry rim of his hat.
     "Hey..." I said softly.
     "...hey." He said just as softly.
     "Can I sit out here with you?" I asked cautiously. He brushed the snow off the other side of the bench for me.
     "Aren't you cold?" He asked after I sat down, my hands between my thighs.
     "Freezing, actually." I said, hunkering down further into my coat. I saw the smallest of smiles grace his lips. He reached over and pulled me against him, pressing those lips to the top of my head. I wrapped my arms around his waist. I could hear his heart beating steadily inside his muscular chest as he wrapped his heavy arms around my shoulder.
     I looked up and met his gaze. He had that look of dejection and self-loathing. It didn't suit him, he was too good looking to wear such an ugly expression.
     I stretched up to press a kiss to his mouth, just barely dabbing my lips against his. His rough hands cupped the back of my head and my cheek, crashing our lips together in a heated embrace and before I knew it he was kissing me passionately. It felt so good. I melted into his arms, my lips molding against his as we kisses again and again and again, seeking comfort in the exchange.
     We broke apart, staring at each other, the air between us charged. I moved my hand to touch at the faded  bruise and he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and holding my cold hand against his flushed cheek.
     "I have to visit my mom today." He said softly, opening his eyes to look intently at me.
     "Okay."
     "Will you come with me?"

*** good day. This was a hard chapter for me to write, it hit home in  more ways than one and I had to keep walking away. Another note, I'm not sure how many people out there know, I hope very few, but bringing somebody with you to visit someone you love who has passed on is so hard. Things you want to say and do, you aren't sure if you can because some people just wouldn't understand. I am digressing worse than usual, sorry,  I do that. I hope you enjoy! Vote, comment, Doctorsarescarydontjudgeme. Good night! \^~^/