Recovery / / h.s

Chapter Forty- Six.

"Hey," I said, pushing her away a little even though I really didn't want to. I'd missed the natural taste of mint on her lips more than anything the week I was away, and honestly I could kiss her forever. "What's the matter with you? You're sick, babe, take it easy."

She sighed, slumping back onto the bed and crossing her arms over her chest. She looked like a child that hadn't gotten her way. It was adorable, even though I knew she was trying to look annoyed.

"I just missed you," she rolled her eyes. "And I wanna kiss you. Not just kiss you, but like I wanna kiss the hell out of you."

I placed a final kiss on her lips and she sighed again. "Just not now, okay? Not like this."

She nodded slowly, as if she understood just how serious this was. "I'm in the hospital, Harry, I get it."

"You're not afraid?" I asked her, because she seemed to be pretty content with all of this. I had spent the majority of the plane ride biting my nails to bits and clawing at the inside of my forearm. And even now I was anxiously tugging at my lip ring to the point where my lip was throbbing and probably swollen.

She took a deep breath, her face contorting to an expression I couldn't quite read. Anxious? Sad, maybe? Either way it put a knot in my stomach and I felt like I was going to have a panic attack.

"I actually need to tell you something," she sighed, looking down at her fingernails. She picked at the red polish, and I was desperate for her to just look at me. I couldn't help the way my nails instinctively dug into my forearm.

"So tell me," I demanded, my voice coming out much harsher than I intended. She finally looked up at me, then down to where I was assaulting my arm with my fingernails. She pulled my arms away from each other and held my hands in her own. I felt like I would vomit at any second and i was completely numb even though she hadn't said anything.

She took another deep breath, using her thumb to trace patterns onto my hands. The gesture felt wrong, it was so nice and tender and I knew the news she was going to tell me wouldn't be either of those things.

"Right before you left, I got a phone call from my doctor, remember?"

"Yes, of course. They told you that you couldn't come because-"

"Right, exactly," she interrupted me. If her hands weren't restraining mine, then I'd probably have clawed my arm to blood-point by now. I resorted to pulling my lip ring between my teeth aggressively. "That night, they told me something..."

"Which was!?" I practically screamed. She winced away from me and I felt like crying. "Which was?" I repeated, this time much softer.

She stared at my chest for a minute, probably at the swallowtails since those were her favorite. When she finally met my gaze again, her beautiful ocean eyes were pricked with tears. Fuck.

"My chemo treatments, Harry, they aren't- they're not- they aren't working," she spit it all out so fast that by the time I actually felt the blow of her words she was already talking again. "I found out on that day and when you came in the room I wasn't crying because of our argument."

My head was pounding, my stomach clenched, wanting to release all its contents but finding nothing. If Lily's hands hadn't been on my own I wouldn't even be sure that this was real right now. This had to be some sick joke. I wanted to say something, to scream or to cry or just do something. My mouth was so dry and the lump in my throat prohibited my from saying anything, so I just sat there in stunned silence on the verge of tears.

"Hey," she whispered, using the pad of her thumb to wipe my checks. Fuck, was I crying? "Stop crying or I'll cry and I'm so cried out its ridiculous." She laughed. It sounded broken and uncomfortable, but it was still a laugh.