Chapter Text
Carlos had been running on fumes for so long he’d started to think this was just… adulthood. A month of waking up already tired. A month of headaches that didn’t quite bloom into migraines but never fully left. A month of shrugging off the dull ache in his lower back as “too many hours in the chair” and “too many hours in the car” and “too many hours of everything.” And maybe that was the most dangerous part—Carlos Reyes was good at powering through. He was good at taking care of other people. He was good at making himself the last item on the list.
That morning, the shower felt like an interrogation light. Too bright. Too loud. Too honest. He scrubbed his hair, face tipped down, trying to shake off the heaviness in his bones. TK was still in bed, half wrapped in the sheet like a burrito, one arm flung out as if he could keep hold of Carlos even in sleep. Carlos rinsed, reached down without thinking—just the automatic check, the way you notice your own body without looking at it— And froze. His fingers paused on something that didn’t belong. Not pain exactly. Not even a clear lump at first—more like a firm little bead that made his stomach drop like he’d missed a step. He tried again. Pressed lightly. Then a little harder. It was real.
“Okay,” he whispered to the tile, like if he said it quietly enough it would become nothing. “Okay, maybe it’s… maybe it’s a cyst. Maybe it’s—”
He stopped himself because he could hear the way his thoughts were sprinting, panicked and untrained, and that scared him more than the lump. Carlos shut the water off, stood there dripping, and stared at his own reflection like he might find an explanation in his face. He didn’t.
He got dressed carefully, like his clothes were made of glass. TK padded into the bathroom while Carlos was at the sink, brushing his teeth with too much focus.
“Morning,” TK mumbled around a yawn, leaning in to kiss Carlos’ shoulder. “You’re up early.”
Carlos kept his eyes on the mirror. “Couldn’t sleep.”
TK’s gaze sharpened just a little. “You’ve been saying that a lot.”
Carlos spit, rinsed, wiped his mouth. “It’s nothing.”
It was the kind of lie Carlos hated hearing from suspects. The kind that always cracked under pressure. TK watched him for a beat, then softened. “You wanna call out today? We can get breakfast, go for a walk, pretend the world isn’t on fire.”
“I can’t,” Carlos said automatically.
TK hummed. “You can.”
Carlos turned, tried to smile, and felt it fail halfway. “I’ve got that deposition prep. And—”
“Hey.” TK stepped closer, fingertips brushing Carlos’ wrist like a question. “Talk to me.”
Carlos’ throat tightened. How do you tell the person you love that your body might be betraying you? How do you say it without watching fear take root behind their eyes?
He swallowed. “I’m going to make an appointment.”
TK blinked. “For what?”
Carlos forced himself to meet TK’s gaze. “I found something. This morning.”
TK didn’t flinch. He didn’t panic. He didn’t demand details with the frantic energy of someone trying to control the outcome. He just went very still, like he was listening with his whole body.
“Okay,” TK said quietly. “With your regular doctor?”
Carlos nodded.
“Today?”
Carlos hesitated. Then: “I’ll call as soon as the clinic opens.”
TK exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for a month. “Good. I’ll go with you.”
Carlos shook his head too fast. “No, I—”
“Carlos.” TK’s voice wasn’t sharp, but it was firm in the way only love could be. “You’re not doing this alone.”
Carlos stared at him, the truth pressing against his ribs until it hurt.
“…Okay,” Carlos finally said.
TK kissed his knuckles, like sealing a pact. “Okay.”
⸻
The waiting room smelled like sanitizer and outdated magazines. Dr. Elena Ramirez had been Carlos’ doctor since before he’d made detective, back when his job still felt like something that happened in daylight and didn’t follow him home. She came in brisk and warm, hair pulled back, eyes sharp behind her glasses.
“Carlos Reyes,” she said, and her smile flickered when she took in his face. “You look exhausted.”
Carlos gave a humorless huff. “I feel exhausted.”
TK sat in the chair by the wall, one ankle crossed over the other, trying to look casual and failing. He kept one hand on Carlos’ knee like a grounding wire.
Dr. Ramirez clicked her pen. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Carlos talked. About the fatigue. The back ache. The vague nausea he’d been blaming on stress. The way his appetite had turned fickle. The night sweats he hadn’t mentioned to anyone because he didn’t want to sound dramatic.
Then, with his voice going strangely flat, he said, “And I found a lump.”
Dr. Ramirez didn’t react the way people did when they were scared. She reacted the way professionals did when they needed to act.
“Okay,” she said. “We’re going to take this step by step.”
The exam was quick and clinical and still humiliating in a way Carlos couldn’t fully explain. He’d seen bodies at their worst, he’d stood in trauma bays, he’d held pressure on wounds and kept his voice steady. But lying on a paper-covered table while someone confirmed that something inside him wasn’t right made him feel small.
Dr. Ramirez finished, washed her hands, and looked Carlos in the eye.
“There is a mass,” she said gently. “That doesn’t automatically mean cancer. There are benign causes. But—given your symptoms and what I’m feeling—I want imaging right away. Ultrasound today, bloodwork today. Tumor markers.”
Carlos’ mouth went dry. “Tumor markers.”
TK’s hand tightened.
Dr. Ramirez kept her voice even. “I’m not going to scare you with guesses. We’re going to get information. Then we’ll make a plan.”
Carlos nodded like he understood, like his mind wasn’t already running worst-case scenarios in the background like a siren.
⸻
Information came fast once the system decided Carlos was urgent. Ultrasound. Blood draw. A radiologist with kind eyes who wouldn’t say much, because they never did, but whose face gave away more than his words. By the time Dr. Ramirez called them back into the room, Carlos felt like he was walking underwater. She sat down. She didn’t hover. She didn’t sugarcoat.
“Carlos,” she said, “the imaging is highly suspicious for a testicular tumor.”
Carlos heard TK inhale sharply beside him.
Dr. Ramirez continued, careful and clear. “Testicular cancer is the most common cancer in men your age. That’s not comfort, I know—but it means we have very established treatment pathways, and outcomes can be very good even when it’s not caught at the earliest stage.”
Carlos stared at her. “I’m thirty-two.”
“I know.” Dr. Ramirez’s expression softened. “It’s unfair. It’s also not your fault.”
Carlos laughed once, sharp and wrong. “Okay, but—” His voice broke. “I feel like I can’t… I can’t be the guy with cancer.”
TK leaned forward, eyes shining. “You’re not ‘the guy with cancer.’ You’re Carlos.”
Carlos’ throat tightened like a fist.
Dr. Ramirez nodded slightly, letting TK’s words land, then said, “We did additional imaging this afternoon. The CT shows enlarged lymph nodes in the retroperitoneum—your abdomen, essentially. That suggests it’s spread beyond the testicle.”
Carlos felt the room tilt.
“It has spread,” he echoed, like tasting poison.
Dr. Ramirez held his gaze. “It has spread to lymph nodes. We do not see evidence in your lungs.”
TK’s breath hitched again, and Carlos realized—of course—TK had already pictured that. Of course his mind had leapt straight to the worst.
“Next steps,” Dr. Ramirez said, “are referral to urology and oncology immediately. Typically, surgery to remove the affected testicle happens first—an orchiectomy—both to treat and to confirm the exact type. We replace it with a prosthetic testicle. Then, given the lymph nodes, chemo is likely.”
Carlos’ ears rang. “Chemo.”
Dr. Ramirez’s voice gentled. “I’m not going to lie to you. It can be rough. But it’s effective. And we’re going to move quickly.”
TK’s hand found Carlos’ again, fingers lacing tight, like if he held on hard enough he could keep Carlos here. Carlos looked down at their hands—wedding rings flashing under fluorescent light—and felt something inside him fracture. How do you tell your husband that the future you planned just got rearranged by a mass the size of a cruel joke? He already knew the answer. You tell him anyway.