Coffee fueled Aaron through the next day, and then kept him going through the days after that. How he kept his sanity during that time was an entirely different matter—and something he owed entirely to Gage.

Together, they’d gone to see his father’s pulmonologist. As it turned out, Marshall’s original doctor had retired, and a new one had taken his place—Dr. Chen, who was not all that much older than Aaron himself, was able to answer their questions succinctly and arranged for additional testing almost immediately. Between Marshall’s medical history and the test results from their earlier attempts at diagnosing Bo, all that was left to do was take Bo in for a CT scan followed by a percutaneous lung biopsy—a procedure Aaron dreaded to think a boy as young as Bo would have to go through, but a necessity in making sure that a proper diagnosis was given.

Five days after their visit to Dr. Chen, Aaron stood with Gage inside the operating room as Bo stared at them from where he lay on the operating table. His lungs rattled, struggling to draw oxygen. Until Bo was sedated, they were allowed to be in the room. After that, they’d be escorted out and asked to wait while the biopsy was underway.

As the anesthesiologist worked to prepared the sedative, Bo’s eyes shifted from Gage to Aaron, and to Aaron’s surprise, he lifted a hand and reached toward him. The tiny hospital bracelet on his wrist slipped down his arm.

“Hey, little man,” Aaron said softly. “You’re doing a really good job being grown up right now. I know this isn’t fun.”

“No fun,” Bo lamented. He snagged Aaron’s surgical gown and held it. “I wanna go home.”

“We’re going to be home before you know it,” Aaron promised. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Gage, frozen, likely afraid to interrupt the moment. “And once we do go home, it’s going to be me, and you, and your dad, and we’ll all have fun watching whatever you want to watch. Maybe we’ll even let you stay up past your bedtime… but just once.”

Bo’s eyes brightened. He smiled, and Aaron fell in love all over again. When he’d first met Bo, he’d only seen Gage—from his blue eyes to his golden hair to the shy manner in which he conducted himself. But in his smile, Aaron saw his mirror image.

“Really?” Bo asked. His smile persisted. “Really really?”

“Really really,” Aaron promised. He sneaked a look at Gage. “As long as it’s okay with your dad.”

“I’ll think about it,” Gage said, but he was already smiling. “If you’re a good boy for our friends, the doctors, then you can stay up past your bedtime.”

“Wow!” Bo grinned.

There was a feeling in the air—a kind of spark that Aaron usually associated with Gage—that took him by surprise. He reached for Gage’s hand, seized by the feeling, and was thrilled when Gage wove their fingers together and squeezed. It was love, Aaron realized. Not the kind he reserved for Gage as his partner, which was nuanced by sexuality and complicated by the history they shared, but a pure, sweeping kind of love that filled in every one of Aaron’s cracks and smoothed over the roughness in his soul.

It was love for his family—a love that would soon grow to include the new life inside of Gage.

“We’re ready to begin,” the anesthesiologist told them as she approached the operating table. “Are you ready?”

The question was directed at Aaron and Gage, but it was Bo who answered. He made a frantic, nervous wheezing noise and dropped his hand from Aaron’s robe, curling in on himself in terror.

“Hey, hey now,” Aaron said softly. He reached for Bo and took his hand, and was floored when Bo clutched onto him. “It’s going to be okay. The doctors are our friends, just like your dad said. We’re going to be here with you. Your dad and I aren’t going anywhere.”

“And we’re going to be right there when you wake up, too,” Gage promised, taking Bo’s other hand in his own. The backup was appreciated. Aaron glanced at him, affection stirring in his heart. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. We’ve got you, baby boy.”

Bo settled, although tension still kept his shoulders stiff and his body rigid. Gage nodded at the anesthesiologist, who stepped forward and introduced the sedative to Bo’s IV. Most times, the surgeon had explained when they’d come in for a rundown of the procedure, children were induced through gas introduced to the lungs. With Bo’s condition, it would be nowhere near as effective, and their safest choice was to sedate through his IV.

“You want to know the funnest part about this procedure is?” the anesthesiologist asked as she depressed the fluid into the line.

Bo nodded slowly. He blinked, taking longer than he should have to open his eyes again.

“The funnest part is that you get to sleep through it, and then afterward, your parents give you lots and lots of cuddles.”

“Cuddles,” Bo mumbled. His syllables blurred one into the next.

“What are your favorite animals, Bo?” the anesthesiologist asked. The stopper had reached the bottom of the syringe, and she took her hand away.

“Lions,” Bo declared, fighting his sedation just enough to say the word forcefully. “I eat lions… with Dad.”

His eyelids drooped, then closed. The tension in his body released.

Aaron glanced in Gage’s direction to find there were tears in his eyes. It didn’t surprise him—Gage wasn’t the only one who was misty-eyed.

They left the operating room together and went to wait on uncomfortable plastic chairs in the hall beyond the door.

Lions.

Aaron would remember.

One day soon, he’d eat lions together with Bo, too.

Static pulled at the back of Aaron’s shirt. He shifted his weight on the uncomfortable plastic chair he’d settled on, and the metal frame shocked him. Gage, who’d rested his head on Aaron’s shoulder, jolted upright.

“It’s okay, BP,” Aaron said. His hand found Gage’s, and he squeezed. “It was just the chair.”

“Mm.” Gage rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his free hand and turned his weary gaze on Aaron. “How much longer do you think it’s going to be? My body keeps trying to fall asleep, but my head is too anxious. I keep having these waking nightmares…” He sighed. “Do you think Bo is okay?”

“Bo’s going to be fine.” Aaron was certain of it. He had trust in the doctors performing the biopsy. “It shouldn’t be much longer now. The procedure isn’t enormously complicated.”

Seemingly placated by his words, Gage rested his head on Aaron’s shoulder again. Soon enough, they’d have their answers and their son would receive the treatment he sorely needed. Bit by bit, they’d discover their new normal. Aaron had faith in their future, and should that faith be betrayed, he had faith in himself—he hadn’t worked as hard as he had to settle for heartache. No matter what happened, he would make sure his family was cared for.

They sat in silence for a while. Aaron followed the progression of Gage’s exhaustion, noticing when his body loosened, then comforting him when he jumped back to wakefulness. Hospital staff passed them by, overworked nurses who never seemed to move at anything less than a jog, and surgeons scrubbed in and ready for their daily emergencies. Aaron watched them distantly, his eyes never settling on one place for long. There was no point in taking in much detail—his mind was in the operating room he and Gage sat outside of, and the son they’d left inside it.

At last, the door to Bo’s operating room opened. A surgical assistant peeled back her mask and nodded at Aaron, who nodded back. Gage sat up straight, silent, but alert. The surgical assistant crossed the hall and came to stand by them.

“The biopsy was a success,” she said. “Bo did a great job, and we expect that he’ll be back to his old self by the end of the week.”

“When is the lab getting the sample?” Aaron asked. He slipped a hand onto Gage’s thigh, offering him support. “Is there a rush on the analysis?”

“The order has been expedited, yes.” She smiled at them, more reassuring than friendly. “You might want to call to follow up, but I’m under the impression that the results should be with Dr. Chen around the same time Bo is feeling better—by the end of the week.”

“Thank you.” Aaron understood how stressful a laboratory environment could be, and he appreciated the time it took to analyze a sample, but as an individual whose life was impacted by the results, he couldn’t help but want them sooner than that. In the days following the revelation of his father’s medical history, Aaron had spent as much time as he could looking into idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis, especially as it manifested in children, and while he knew the prognosis was good, he also understood that it was a condition Bo might have to manage for the rest of his life. Recent developments led him to believe that researchers were on the cusp of developing a better alternative to traditionally prescribed medication, but if Synecta was involved, the new core critical operations team Aaron had been hired on to wasn’t handling the project.

Still, he had hope.

There would be bright days ahead for Bo—moments of total joy and incredible happiness. He would grow and thrive and learn. The stumbling blocks of his youth would settle, and he’d use them to build a solid foundation for his future. He was strong, like his father.

Aaron stole a glance at Gage, whose expression was flat and serious even in the face of uncertainty.

Stronger than Aaron could ever be.

“We’re wheeling him into recovery now,” the surgical assistant said. “You’re welcome to go wait with him as he wakes up. It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Of course.” Aaron stood, and Gage did the same. “Thank you for letting us know.”

“You’re welcome.” Her smile grew. The operating room door opened again, and several medical professionals exited, guiding along the operating room bed Bo had been laid on. He looked small beneath the blankets, but Aaron knew he wouldn’t stay that way for long. Soon enough, he’d be a young man, ready to tackle the world. Aaron would do whatever it took to make sure he had every chance at success.

He took Gage’s hand in his own, and together, they followed their son to recovery.