Chapter Title: What is love anyways?
Characters: John, James
Genres: romance, drama
Warnings: character death, slash fic
No related to Country Star!!!
Summary: John tries to find out what love is.
What is love anyway? I guess it’s when two people have feelings for each
other. Two people meet and they go on a date, get to know each other and
something happens. You just get this feeling and you just know.
My love is James. I don’t know what I did to get a guy like him. But I count
my blessings every day we are together.
Hmm, love is great. I love being in love with James. When you are in love
nothing beats the things you do for each other. Like he always makes sure
the coffee timer is set so I have a hot pot of coffee waiting for me when we
wake up. I’m sure he does it more for himself. I’m not a morning person and
it’s takes me a while to wake up.
I always get a paper for him, he always keeps the fridge stocked with ice
cream, things like that.
Or I will get him a hot bath knowing he’s had a very hard case to help him
relax. I have to admit I get a lot out of this as well.
Walking the in park holding hands not caring who is looking at us. Sneaking
into the men’s restroom for a kiss or maybe something else.
He puts magazines on my pillow and folds down the pages he thinks I will
I put tens of thousands of post it notes hidden everywhere telling
him Have a great day, I miss you, I love you.
I buy him books that I know he enjoys reading.
I never make fun of his clothes and that they are 80% black.
He sends me text messages or downloads a new song on my ipod that he thinks
I will like, he should know, he‘s never picked one I didn‘t enjoy.
We both tivo each other’s favorite shows if the other one’s not going to be
Cuddling on the couch, watching some TV. He always plays with my hair. It’s
the only way I can fall asleep now.
Waking up finding out that you can’t move because 75% of his body is on top
Oh and let’s not forget the sex and the blowjobs. Wow, it’s one of our
favorite things. We have all kinds of sex too. There is hot sex, sweet sex
(I enjoy this the most, don’t tell anyone) where there is lots of kissing,
touching and holding, quickie sex (mostly at the lab or in the car, I mean
when you’re with a guy like James sometimes you can’t help it and have to do
it right away.), shower sex, this is James’s favorite. So yeah that part is
Love isn’t perfect. We had our share of fights. But after a while you learn
what to say and what not to say. You learn when you are wrong and that it
really is your fault. You also learn when to let things go. Is it really
worth all that? No, not really. Life’s too short. We had one rule, never go
to bed mad at each other and the last thing we always said to each other was
I love you. We never broke that rule either. Even if it took us staying up
to 5 am talking things out. But you know the make up sex was great!
It’s funny when you’re in love you do things you never thought you would do.
I for one HATE country music but I listen to it. Only when we are in his
car. He hates loud music but he listens to it only when we are in my
car. We flip a coin now, we used to race to the cars but he slipped and hurt
his wrist and I fell and twisted my ankle. It’s a lot less painful that way.
And we both agree not to trash each other’s music. Life is too short to
fight over a CD. Plus, he doesn’t know it but his stupid music is growing on
me and now I have a few of his CDs in my car
I hate to do the dishes, yes we have a dishwasher, he just doesn’t
understand why I hate it so much. I hate the smell of old food sitting in
the sink. I know it wouldn’t smell if I did the dishes 3 days ago like he
asked me to. And NO he doesn’t do it me. And yes I will put 3 dirty dishes
with a load of clean ones and run it again but I do it.
He hates to do laundry, you would think with 2 guys there wouldn’t that much
clothes to wash, but you know I have my at home clothes, my
shopping clothes, my sleep clothes, my I don’t feel good clothes, and my
going out for a hot date with him clothes. I’ve been known to change my
clothes, hmm, five times in one day. He on the other hand has his home cloths and going out clothes. I was just glad he had a not home pile. Even
though I can’t tell them apart. But he does that too.
I hate to cook, I’m no good at it. I get bored waiting for the timer to go
off, or the water to boil, or for the stupid oven to heat up all the way.
It’s much easier and fast to order out. He hates to eat out. See I could go
on and on here but I think you get the point.
The next step in our life led us to adopting a baby boy. Patrick was his
name but I changed it to James.
So being in love is the best. It’s also the hardest thing I ever had to do.
Sitting there with him, holding his hand when we found a lump, waiting for
the doctor to tell us, I’m sorry it is cancer. I hold him while he cries and
tries to come to terms with what the doctor says.
Being there with him when he tells the team about the cancer and that he’s
going to keep working when and if he can.
Being there when he tells his parents, watching his mother fall apart. He
holds her in his arms, I can barely understand her. But I know she’s saying
it’s not fair, it’s my baby boy. And his father trying to be strong for him.
He pulls me in the other room and tells me to take care of his boy, give him
the strength he needs to beat this. He tells me I have to be the strong one.
I know he’s right. So I do my best.
Holding him after a treatment when he’s in so much pain and he’s barfing up
what little food he’s eaten. Wrapping a blanket around him because he’s
freezing cold then pulling it off because he’s on fire.
Running to the store to get bottled water, medication that doesn’t seem to
help and anything he asks me for.
Holding him for hours after the doctor tells him it’s spreading too fast and
he’s not sure they can stop it.
Love is watching the love of your life’s body waste away to nothing.
Watching his hair fall out and the life disappear from his eyes.
Love is worrying how you’re going to take care of a small child and him.
Love is carrying him to the shower because he was too weak to make it to the
rest room. Giving him a hot bath.
Love is taking a wet rag and running it over his forehead to help with the
Love is knowing you can’t do both and letting his sister take your child
while you try to fight.
Love is going almost 2 years without the sex that we both enjoyed so much so
long ago and never letting him know you much you miss it.
Love is never letting him see me cry. I only do that when I’m alone.
Love is never letting him know how much you miss seeing the baby and emails
and weekend visits just aren’t cutting it anymore.
Love is never letting him know that you’re so afraid of losing him and I
wonder how I will get along without him. What kind of father I will be.
Love is giving up Friday nights with the guys to be with him. Even when he
tells you to go out and have some fun.
Love is holding him when the doctor says. Hmm that’s not working like he
hoped let’s try this. It may make you sicker. Sicker I don’t see how he can
get much sicker. But he does.
Love is helping him lift the spoon to his mouth because he’s too weak to do
it. Praying that he doesn’t choke on it.
Love is hating myself for praying that he does.
Love is asking his sister to keep the baby a bit longer.
Love is praying asking God to give the cancer to me so he can get better.
Love is giving him shots to help with the pain. He can’t swallow pills now.
Love is learning how to change an IV bag. He can’t eat anymore.
Love is understanding when he tells me that he’s so tired and he doesn’t
want to do this anymore. That’s he’s given up.
Love is telling him he’s not being selfish and that you understand.
Love is know what he means when he says the ocean.
Love is looking him in the eyes telling him that I will be ok without him.
Love is knowing when to let go.
Love is calling his parents and telling them the news that their baby is
going to die. Not in a few years, or months but in a few weeks or days.
Love is watching a 3-year-old try to say goodbye to his daddy. And watching
a father try to find the strength to say goodbye to his son. Watching his
body let him down.
He doesn’t seem to understand. He sitting next to him holding his hand and
telling him about his new teacher. I’m not sure James was even awake to hear
Love is telling all our friends. They don’t understand love. They didn’t
agree. They yell at me, demanding I change James’s mind. They want James to
keep fighting. But they don’t understand, you can’t fight when there is
nothing left to fight with.
Love is carrying him to the car and driving. I drive for hours. The tears
come and go. He’s sound asleep. I can’t remember the last time he was awake.
I have his hand in mine and sometimes he squeezes it just to let me know
Love is talking about the past. The good old days. All the things that we’ve
Love is helping him down to the water. He’s awake now. I hold him as the
wake breaks over our feet. I tell him that I will be ok. That I don’t hate
Love is him telling me he’s so sorry
Love is me telling him he has nothing to be sorry for.
Love is staring into each other’s eyes. Laying in the sanding listening.
We stay there until he’s shaking. I know he’s cold.
Love is carrying him inside and lying him on a bed. I open the window.
Letting the sun and fresh ocean air pour in.
Love is holding him all day and not getting up when he wets the bed.
Love is not even noticing the waves are perfect for surfing.
Love is playing all his CD’s over and over.
Love is understanding when he opens his eyes and says help me.
Love is knowing how much morphine to give him. Just enough so he’ll fall
asleep and never wake up.
Love is giving him one last kiss.
Love is sitting next to him watching, waiting.
Love is watching his chest rise and fall slowly.
Love is watching his chest stop.
Love is picking up his lifeless body and giving him one last kiss.
“I love you.”
Love is watching my tears run down his face.
Love is laying with him the rest of the night.
Love is gone.
I don’t talk much at the funeral.
I don’t leave his side.
I want to jump in after him once they lay him to rest.
I sat on the dirt. I can’t cry. I just stare.
They finally make me go home.
Love is going home and taking our son home.
Love is her understanding when I take him home.
Love is laying him in bed and covering him up.
Love is placing a kiss on his forehead.
Love is lying in bed crying alone. I miss him. I want him back. I need him
Love is waking up with a small child next to you.
Hmm maybe love isn’t gone.
Love was a new beginning after all.