You're My Way Home, You're My Backbone.

The sun was barely up when Brendon felt his stomach roll and curl in ways that made him breathless. It was a horrible feeling that also left him dizzy and disoriented while trying to gasp for air.

No matter how often one gets any type of nausea, it never becomes easy to deal with. Near on impossible to be used to it in a way that wasn’t debilitating in some way. Right now for Brendon it was like a tonne of bricks was dropped onto his mid section.

Despite the heavy weight Brendon moved quickly, throwing the blankets off and leant over the edge of the mattress. Tears welded up in his eyes as he scavenged around for the bucket he usually kept under his bed. He couldn’t find it, just a lot of dust bunnies.

Brendon called out for Pete but all that came out of his mouth was a horrid croak that could have been a half sob. Sucking in a deep breath and tried again, desperate for someone to help.

“Pe-te!”

His voice broke sharply but his voice was loud enough to carry around the room and hopefully out the open bedroom door, to where Pete was staying across the hall.

“Pete!”

There was a loud thump from the hallway followed by rushing footsteps. Brendon let himself sag over the bedside but tried to keep his head up. Pete burst into the room, hopping around on one foot as he pulled on a pair of sleep pants.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” Pete asked rushing over to the bed, almost falling over when the bottoms of his pants got caught around his feet.

“Bucket.” Brendon gasped. “Quick. Please.”

Pete didn’t need more explanation than that and ran out of the room heading towards the laundry. Brendon felt the bile rise up his throat, but managed to hold it down by covering his nose and mouth with his hand and letting his body jerk with the motions. Pete made it back with only a second to spare.

“Shit, Bren.” Pete murmured holding Brendon back from falling off the bed completely.

It took a long time for it to finish and when it did Brendon left like he was winded; gasping for air like it wasn’t able to get into his lungs. Tears streaked down his face mixing in with the cold sweat trickling down his neck. He let Pete pull him up right onto the bed and move him around so he was on his side, a close but safe distance from the edge.

Pete rubbed soothing circles on Brendon’s back in attempt to calm him down.

“Just focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow.” Pete said softly.

Brendon nodded and copied Pete’s breathing. He almost got the pattern down when he ended up leaning over the side of the bed again.

Pete continued to mutter soft reassurances and rubbed his back. It helped.

*

The sickness did not let up, not that Brendon had expected it to but by lunch time he was able to slowly move around the house and clean up his mess. Pete told him now to worry about it, that he had it under control. Brendon still helped anyway because Pete was a guest and felt bad Pete had to see him like this.

Brendon looked away from where Pete was making himself lunch and down at the toast in front of him. It had been sitting there too long now, gone cold and hard where the butter hadn’t melted. Just the smell made him want to push it away but he knew he had to at least take one bite. His stomach needed something in it. He wondered if he should text Spencer to bring over some clear soup.

Clear soup was easier to bring back up than toast.

“Do you know if Spencer is coming over today?” Brendon asked quietly and a little throaty, just loud enough to catch Pete’s attention.

“Hmm?” Pete hummed stabbing at something in the frying pan he was holding.

“Is Spencer coming over?”

“Yeah, not sure what time though. He texted something about bring Jon over. “Pete said over a clatter of plates on the bench top.

Brendon gave up and pushed the plate far away as he could.

“Can you text him for me?” Brendon asked. “Ask him to bring soup.”

“Can’t get the toast down?”

Brendon shook his head and rested his cheek against the cool table top. He could hear clicking of a phone’s keys behind him and closed his eyes. It was quiet aside from the sounds of Pete’s cooking until Pete’s phone beeped. Brendon waiting for Pete to speak.

“He said Ryan’s driving him over now,” Pete announced, reaching over for the plate of toast. “They’re going to quickly stop by the shops for you.”

“Tell him I said thanks.” Brendon croaked.

Pete hummed and Brendon turned his head to the other side and opened one eye just as Pete dumped the piece of untouched toast into the bin.

Brendon thought about getting up and relocating to the lounge room before his neck cramped up, but couldn’t find the energy to do so. He nudged the clean bucket at his feet with his toe. Brendon was glad Pete was looking after him, as much as he didn’t want Pete seeing him like this. Anyone else wouldn’t have let him leave the bedroom and would still be convincing him to eat that piece of toast.

“Hey, is it alright if I eat in here? Or will that make you feel sick again?” Pete asked, sounding like he was scrounging around in the cutlery draw.

“Yeah, just.” Brendon muttered flicking his hand limply towards the other end of the table.

Not a moment later he heard Pete sit down followed by a fork scraping against a plate. Brendon didn’t look up, just closed his eyes again.

They stayed like that for a while, Pete eating quietly and Brendon sitting with his head on the table. The clock hanging on the wall ticked but it was mostly background noise. Brendon was considering turning the radio on when a car pulled into the driveway, the wheels crunching on gravel.

When there was a knock on the front door, Pete got up before Brendon had the chance to lift his head. Pete’s plate was empty on the table and feeling he had to do something in return, Brendon made himself stand and pick up the dishes, taking them to the sink.

“Hello!” Jon chirped out of nowhere, hugging Brendon from behind before he could turn around.

Brendon jumped startled and Jon turned him around by the shoulders. He hugged back briefly as Spencer walked into the room with a couple of plastic bags. He gave Brendon a quick one armed hug as he passed.

“How are you feeling?” Jon asked, leaning up against the sink.

“Been better,” Brendon shrugged. “Been worse.”

“Have you eaten anything yet?” Spencer asked turning from where he was unloading the bags on the bench. “No, of course you haven’t.” He answered himself.

Pete, who Brendon hadn’t noticed enter the room, dug around in the cupboards and handed Spencer a pot. Spencer lightly hip nudged Jon out of the way and the two started taking over the kitchen. Brendon let them, picking up his new best friend Mr Bucket and moved out of the way, almost bumping into Ryan as he was leaving the kitchen.

Brendon did a double take noticing Ryan holding a rough looking bunch of flowers. Ryan shrugged at his silent question.

“I pinched them out of your neighbour’s garden,” He explained. “Thought they would cheer up the house a little. You got a jar or something?”

“Uh, try the junk cupboard.” Brendon suggested.

Ryan smiled and tapped Brendon’s nose with the flowers before walking over to Spencer. Brendon shot Jon a look, who laughed.

“Let’s leave the maids to cook,” Jon grinned leading into the lounge room. “I brought movies.”
Brendon followed laughing when Spencer threw a tea towel at Jon’s head and missed.

*

“How are you doing? You don’t look so well.” Dr Carol observed as she closed the door behind Brendon as he entered the room.

“Sick from the chemo,” Brendon sighed. “I couldn’t keep anything down yesterday. Not even soup.”
“The anti-nausea tablets not working?” Dr Carol asked as she sat down at the computer.

Brendon slowly lowered himself onto one of the patient chairs, being careful not to tweak his sore stomach muscles.

“That came back up before they could be digested, but I think they did take the edge off a little.”

Dr Carol nodded and turned to the computer screen, clicking and tapping away at the keys. She hummed and turned her attention back to Brendon.

“See as you’re not feeling well. I’ll keep this short for you,” She smiled apologetically. “The last two blood tests have came back, the first one is good but the second one shows you white blood cell counts is slightly lower than the first. It’s not much of a difference nor nothing to worry about yet but after last time I do want to keep a close eye on it just in case. I would like for you take another blood test within the next two weeks.”

Brendon nodded slowly and took the referral she handed out for him.

“As for the next round of scans, the department has been contacted and will call to let you know the appointment times. They should be within the next two-three weeks.”

Brendon nodded again and did his best to keep focus as Dr Carol talked, but it was hard when he felt so shitty and exhausted. At least he now knows what is going to happen next, even if it feels like it was becoming a bit repetitive.

*

“Feeling any better, Bren?” Pete asked, poking at the lump on the couch.

The lump didn’t move but hummed, almost grunted in reply. Pete took that as a no.

“Do you want some soup? Drink of water?”

“No, thanks.” Brendon croaked, muffled from the blankets.

“Tea, coffee?”

“Nah.”

“Vodka?”

That got an amused snort. Pete grinned and wondered off into the kitchen to make a cup of soup, Brendon may not be hungry but he needed to eat for Mamma Spencer and Papa Zach arrived.

Pete hummed loud enough for Brendon to hear from the other room as he boiled the kettle and pulled a packet from the pantry. After a while there was a lower, scruffier hum matching his.