tend to take these things personally. People don't want to sit with me, look at me, talk to me." He shrugged.
Robbie went with his gut feeling at these words and sat on the chair. He shuffled uncomfortably. What do you say to a man who was ill? Eli didn't give him a chance to say a single thing.
"I'm cancer free, you know. I'm in remission. I've been clear for a long time, nearly three years, so it's statistically unlikely that the cancer will return. Yes it was hard, no I don't think about it a lot, and no it doesn't affect my need to fuck or be fucked on a regular basis." There was that temper again. Sparking and hissing and spitting its way into the self-deprecation and sarcasm. "Now you can sit here and we can talk about where we go from here and what we want from each other or you can go so we don't start anything we can't finish."
"You can't dump all this on me and expect me to know all the answers. That isn't fair."
"Life isn't fair." Eli slumped back on his pillow. He looked better but still tired.
"You don't get it; hell, why would you, it's not like I've told you why I left Australia in the first place."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I already lost one lover who died, and fuck, it nearly killed me. No point in starting anything only to have it end. Imagine what it would feel like to lose someone again." Robbie blurted the whole sentence out before he realized what exactly he had admitted.
Eli didn't call him on it. He just nodded. "So tell me about him," Eli said. His words weren't an order, more a plea.
"Paul? He was a cowboy, a buckaroo like me, and more than a good friend. Lots of lonely time on a station as big as we had, and we were both gay so we used some of that downtime and broke a little tension. Thing is, I fell in love and so did Paul, we even made plans for the future. Took this new guy, a big hulking brainless idiot, who decided fag was a word that suited Paul and me. I let it slide, Paul didn't. He always was a hotheaded guy. One lucky punch and Paul was on the floor. He never woke up. Had some kind of embolism that killed him fast inside. This was two years ago October and I tried to stick it out over there. Too many memories. I stayed for the trial when it finally happened. Then I left."
"I'm sorry."
"It's been a while now." Robbie wasn't entirely sure what else to say. That really was the whole sorry story, and enough to have him leaving the station and find his way home.
"Two years isn't long, you know," Eli stated simply.
"It's long enough. So, tell me your story."
Eli looked happy for Robbie to change the direction of conversation—he clearly didn't want to talk about Paul.
"I'd just been kicked out of college when I got sick. Just really tired and then I keeled over and had these blood tests, and it all kind of escalated from there. Kidney cancer. I was one of the lucky ones—I haven't lost an entire kidney and after treatment I was told everything looked good. Before cancer I was a bit lost, and a whole lot of a slacker. Plenty of ideas and opinions but no thought of acting on any of them. Except, of course, calling Riley Hayes a fucking asshole to his face and losing the only real friend I freaking had outside of my misfit excuse for a family."
"Riley?"
"That's a story for another day. The big C hits with a hammer and suddenly you are told if the next session of meds doesn't cure you then you have maybe six months to live. Amazing the shit you want to do when you only have six months left."
"Climbing mountains, spending all your money?" Robbie was attempting to lighten the tension but Eli simply shook his head.
"All I wanted to do was find someone who cared if I died."
That floored Robbie and he had no words to use. Instead something twisted in his chest. He had cared when Paul died. Cared enough to stay alive and leave. Was it possible there was room in his heart for someone else to care about?
Robbie hesitated momentarily then he forcibly relaxed every muscle until he sat comfortably on the
Robbie went with his gut feeling at these words and sat on the chair. He shuffled uncomfortably. What do you say to a man who was ill? Eli didn't give him a chance to say a single thing.
"I'm cancer free, you know. I'm in remission. I've been clear for a long time, nearly three years, so it's statistically unlikely that the cancer will return. Yes it was hard, no I don't think about it a lot, and no it doesn't affect my need to fuck or be fucked on a regular basis." There was that temper again. Sparking and hissing and spitting its way into the self-deprecation and sarcasm. "Now you can sit here and we can talk about where we go from here and what we want from each other or you can go so we don't start anything we can't finish."
"You can't dump all this on me and expect me to know all the answers. That isn't fair."
"Life isn't fair." Eli slumped back on his pillow. He looked better but still tired.
"You don't get it; hell, why would you, it's not like I've told you why I left Australia in the first place."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I already lost one lover who died, and fuck, it nearly killed me. No point in starting anything only to have it end. Imagine what it would feel like to lose someone again." Robbie blurted the whole sentence out before he realized what exactly he had admitted.
Eli didn't call him on it. He just nodded. "So tell me about him," Eli said. His words weren't an order, more a plea.
"Paul? He was a cowboy, a buckaroo like me, and more than a good friend. Lots of lonely time on a station as big as we had, and we were both gay so we used some of that downtime and broke a little tension. Thing is, I fell in love and so did Paul, we even made plans for the future. Took this new guy, a big hulking brainless idiot, who decided fag was a word that suited Paul and me. I let it slide, Paul didn't. He always was a hotheaded guy. One lucky punch and Paul was on the floor. He never woke up. Had some kind of embolism that killed him fast inside. This was two years ago October and I tried to stick it out over there. Too many memories. I stayed for the trial when it finally happened. Then I left."
"I'm sorry."
"It's been a while now." Robbie wasn't entirely sure what else to say. That really was the whole sorry story, and enough to have him leaving the station and find his way home.
"Two years isn't long, you know," Eli stated simply.
"It's long enough. So, tell me your story."
Eli looked happy for Robbie to change the direction of conversation—he clearly didn't want to talk about Paul.
"I'd just been kicked out of college when I got sick. Just really tired and then I keeled over and had these blood tests, and it all kind of escalated from there. Kidney cancer. I was one of the lucky ones—I haven't lost an entire kidney and after treatment I was told everything looked good. Before cancer I was a bit lost, and a whole lot of a slacker. Plenty of ideas and opinions but no thought of acting on any of them. Except, of course, calling Riley Hayes a fucking asshole to his face and losing the only real friend I freaking had outside of my misfit excuse for a family."
"Riley?"
"That's a story for another day. The big C hits with a hammer and suddenly you are told if the next session of meds doesn't cure you then you have maybe six months to live. Amazing the shit you want to do when you only have six months left."
"Climbing mountains, spending all your money?" Robbie was attempting to lighten the tension but Eli simply shook his head.
"All I wanted to do was find someone who cared if I died."
That floored Robbie and he had no words to use. Instead something twisted in his chest. He had cared when Paul died. Cared enough to stay alive and leave. Was it possible there was room in his heart for someone else to care about?
Robbie hesitated momentarily then he forcibly relaxed every muscle until he sat comfortably on the
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