Markiplier Imagines (Mark X Reader)

•Forever•

"You have Stage 4 lung cancer."

"What?" Marks' voice instead of my own questions, and it's like my mind snaps. Gone.

"I'm so sorry."

I still remember that day like a constant nagging at the back of my head, reminding me that I could never live a normal life again. I was sixteen when I heard those words. The dread that consumed me still holds true today; leaving every day a living nightmare. Chemo has been hell. Chemo is like this persistent asshole that refuses to stop stealing your hair, whether you like it or not. This damn cancer thing has made me feel inhuman. I hate the way people see me as just a disease. I am everything I am in spite of this.

That's why, when I met Mark, two years before I was diagnosed, I finally felt real. He makes me feel like I have something to live for; someone to be other than a fragile, hairless woman with an O2 tank dragging behind me wherever I went. Mark is someone I live for. My reason to keep up with chemo. My reason to not just take this tube in my nose out and let myself run out like a deflated whoopie cushion. With him, all this struggle of chemotherapy, oxygen tubes, and needles fades away, and he gives me hope for tomorrow; that one day, all this will disappear, and Mark will still be here. My rock as the waves keep pummeling me.

"Ready?" A gentle hand covers mine on my tank. I blink up at him, nodding mindlessly. "It's okay. I promise." Mark leans down, pressing his lips firmly on my forehead. "I'm always going to be here for you." He lifts my oxygen effortlessly, and for a moment, I envy him, and how he can pick up that damned thing like it was a grain of rice, while I struggle to even lift a glass of water. "I love you Y/N." He strokes my cheek sweetly. "You will get through this."

The ride to the hospital was silent. Mark might have said something, but I don't respond anymore. The healthy trees zooming past were enough to make me stare at the asphalt instead. When we get there, Mark helps me out of his car, holding my tank again. Now don't get my envy wrong, I know he means well, and I know he loves me. He carries my tank because he knows. But I can't help but feel powerless and weak. Marks' hand locks with mine as we both enter the building I've sadly grown all too familiar with.

We make our way down to the radiologists and what I call the depression room, because of the chemo taking place behind closed doors. However, today, I wasn't here for depression room. It was a normal checkup for my O2 and just to listen to my fucked up lungs. Thankfully.

"Good morning. Please have a seat. Dr. Niven will see you shortly." Mark guides me to a chair and helps me sit down, setting the tank on the ground. He sits to the left of me and puts his arm around me kissing my cheek.

"I love you." Mark whispers. Somehow, despite where we are, I feel a smile creep on my face and turn to look at him. This boy, who I met my senior year of high school, has been here for every single doctor's appointment without fail, and always been there in the middle of the night, when I feel something go wrong and wake up screaming. He doesn't mind that he can't do everything with me that he can with "normal girls" who won't lose their breath. Mark sees me as more than the problems I create.

"I love you too, Mark." I mutter before I put all of my strength into leaning up to kiss him. Mark leans down as well, knowing a probably couldn't reach his lips. I never know properly how to describe how a kiss feels, but this one- I don't know. It feels different. It didn't have to be anything more than a kiss to make my heart flutter and my head spin. Mark is the first to pull away, knowing how short of breath I get all too quick.

"I want to take you somewhere after this. Is that okay?" I nod, my smile leaving against my will. I nearly forgot I was at my personal hell.

"Y/N?" A familiar nurse with a clipboard calls out, and Mark stands up, taking my hand in his. I struggle to stand, but Mark holds me up, grabbing my tank as well.