Coming Home | muke au

08.

"Boy can I tell you a terrible thing?

It seems that I'm sick and I've only got weeks.

Please, don't be sad now, I really believe,

You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me." - Terrible Things By Mayday Parade

--

Michael let out a sluggish cough as he struggled to keep his eyes open and move the pencil across the sheet of paper. He was tired, or more like exhausted. He had been non stop out of radiation and chemo. He just wanted to sleep, but he had a note to write. 

"Michael?" His nurse comes in, carrying a clip board to her chest. "Why don't you get some sleep, sweetie? You've had a busy day, and we have questions to ask early in the morning when your doctor gets here." 

Michael only nodded, not glancing at her as he set his pencil down. 

"Do you need anything?" 

"No thank you." His voice was wobbly as he slowly and carefully pushed the cart away from him. 

She nodded, helping him move the cart before giving him a smile and leaving him alone. 

The doctors were saying he was getting better, but Michael only felt worse. He didn't tell them. They said they were seeing improvements, so why was he feeling like this? He was in pain, and he was always tired and he didn't know if it was because of the treatments. But he never told them. Was it supposed to hurt? Was the treatment supposed to hurt? He didn't want to ask. 

--

"Hey," 

"You're actually here." Michael says, shock dripping out of his words. 

"Yeah, I'm sorry. Things got...complicated." Luke drags a chair next to Michael's bed, and takes a seat. He doesn't move to hold Michael's hand or give him a kiss. 

"You look better. You're getting color in your cheeks."

"Um, yeah, I started treatments." 

"You have the money for that?" Luke raises an eyebrow, staring at Michael in disbelief. 

"Well, no," Michael tries to hide his hurt, "we got donations from the church and from people around the world." 

Luke makes a sound in the back of his throat, thankfully dropping the subject. Michael looks away. 

"I have something for you." Michael suddenly says, reaching over to grab the few notes he has wrote for Luke. He hopes Luke will take them. He hesitates, holding them near his chest as he glances at Luke. He's staring at Michael, waiting patiently for whatever he's about to receive. 

Slowly, Michael extends his arm towards Luke, holding the notes tightly. Luke takes them, looking over them slowly before looking at Michael again. 

"Notes?" 

"Yes. I want you to read them when you're alone. But read them in order..." Michael mumbles something after that, something that Luke can't catch.

"What?"

"I..Uh, labeled them. In order. Read them in order." 

Luke suddenly laughs, nodding as he puts the notes in his jacket pocket. "Only you would label notes."  Michael flushes red in embarrassment, "but, I'll read them when I get home." 

Michael nods quickly, expecting Luke to leave already but he doesn't. He sits and stares at Michael like he's a diamond among the rocks. But Michael isn't a diamond, he's just a dying boy.

--

Dear Luke,

The doctors say I'm getting better, but I'm in so much pain. Should I tell them? I don't want to say anything, they'll just tell me i'm fine. But I'm not fine, Luke. I want to believe I'm fine. I want to believe I'll be getting released soon and we'll get to go home together. 

The doctors mentioned I've gained some weight after starting chemo and radiation. That's a good thing, right? They said it was. I can now eat without puking it out. Great, right? Maybe I am getting better. Just maybe I'll get to go home. 

Did you see the snow? Can you believe it snowed for two days? I was so happy, you know I love the snow. Remember that time we took a trip to some ski resort? That was the best date, ever. I was so happy and excited. I miss you, Luke. I hope we can at least go on one more date before I die.

Love,

Michael  

--

Luke doesn't make it through the first note before tears start falling and his vision blurring as he drinks Vodka straight from the bottle. His throat burns as he gulps it down, and then sloppily wipes his mouth and cheeks from the wetness of his tears and alcohol. He continues to read, having to pause so he can wipe his eyes or take drink of Vodka. He's been doing this for awhile now. After he found out Michael had cancer. He had started drinking, trying to ease his own pain. 

Luke lets the first note drop to his feet, as he shakily takes out a cigarette and brings it up to his lips. He almost misses the cigarette as he tries to light it, and instead almost gets his hair. He sighs, and then inhales the cigarette, and then exhales. He pulls out the second note, continuing to smoke and drink. 

He just wonders how it's going to be after Michael passes.