With that one snippet of advice, Paris veered close to tears and he didn't have the strength to hold it back. He kept as much composure as he could, but they welled up and spilled over when he nodded. "I told myself from day one with this fucking shit not to think about her, but it's like my fuckstick brain decided that day was Opposites Day. I told myself I would get too sick, I told myself chemo would be fine, I told myself I would keep working, I told myself I wouldn't need surgery, I told myself it'd be over in a few months. You know something Mom said one day? That she would never wish cancer on us. You, Dad, me. I overheard her saying it. Because she said it makes you feel like you want to give up on life, and it does. Some days, I don't even know how I keep fucking going. She fought as hard and fucking fast as she needed, and she still didn't win. Is it worth the fight, or am I going to die anyway? But maybe she is watching, and maybe I just need to grab my balls and keep fucking going. Somehow. I don't even have the strength to dress myself."

"Poor kid. I want to give him a hug. Mom would've loved Sash too. To the next universe and back. And I k now you think she would've been ashamed of you for everything, but you need to quit thinking like that. You got your shit together, you came back, you're fixing your family, and you have an amazing grandkid. Can you imagine how she would have been seeing him perform? You don't deserve any of this. Fuck. Don't say shit like that either. None of us deserve horrible shit like this, but shit happens. We're all still alive. I think that's the best we can do right now..." He just wasn't sure if that was a guarantee for him, like it wasn't for Justin. "We're going to get there. Somehow."