Mark rested his hand on his son's shoulder, listening to every word Sam was saying. Justin was wrapped up in a cocoon of warm blankets because his temperature always lowered when he had anaesthetic. He knew Sam was right. They couldn't forget what Justin and Sash would want. They were both intelligent and of an age now where they should be allowed to make decisions for themselves. Justin wasn't always mentally stable to but he trusted the people around him who loved him to know what he would want and to protect him. "He'd want his fans to know what happened but but probably only the bare minimum about his and Sash's condition put out there. He's really protective of Sash. He'd want his medical stuff kept private. For now, anyway, while things are still uncertain. I think we need to make it clear the accident was caused by the other driver. Sash had the green light. But I don't think we should say anything about the aneurysm. Jus won't cope if people are speculating all around him about whether Sash is going to die. I... we need to wait on that part." He shook his head slowly, accompanied by a shaky intake of breath. "I'm not as strong as him, Sammy. I'm just not. He sees the world differently to me."

He sunk back in his chair and looked back to Sam with a confused frown. "No. You're not doing that. You wouldn't let me do it. What decisions, mate? They're really fucking important, whatever it is. I'm not letting you try to tackle fucking cancer without me. I'm still here for you. I don't want you to shut me out because I fucked up. It just got me while I was down, that's all. Don't make me hold you down and fart on you," he joked, even if the words were soaked in exhaustion. They both shared a brief smirk at the memory of their childhood. He had no idea how their mum coped being the only female in a house full of blokes. Farts had been an influential commodity forever.