"You don't need to give anyone medical details. You know the moment you mention anything about Justin's pelvis or back, they'll immediately think the worst and he doesn't need to be copping a tonne of shit about whether he'll make it back to Footloose. Or any dancing. If he starts to feel better and wants to talk about his injuries, he can choose when and how. All of that probably won't be important while he's worrying about Sash. You know the best way to handle this, Sparky. You're just doubting yourself because that's what happens when you're depressed." Sam clapped his hand softly on Mark's knee. "You're strong for him, how he needs you to be. That's all that matters. And before you argue on that front, you falling off the wagon isn't a failure. It's a symptom. Which is exactly what you used to tell Jus when he was struggling. You need to practise what you preach, mate."

He felt guilty talking about his crap when Justin and Sash were both lying there in ICU beds. The problem was, cancer couldn't wait until a more convenient time. They didn't know how long it had lay dormant in his system and it wasn't responding the initial treatment of hard antibiotics. He was going to have to start chemo in the very near future but it was the last thing he wanted to think about or burden Mark with. He did know that now Mark had cottoned on to something, he wouldn't let it go. He was like a dog with a bone with these sorts of things, a trait he well and truly passed on to Justin. "I need to decide if I want to freeze my sperm before I start treatment. The chemo is highly likely to leave me infertile." He really had no idea how he could buffer this. Fatigue had taken residence in ever fibre of his being.