Perfectly Imperfect

fourteen > > of fear and cliches.

prompt fourteen: write a scene where a character dies. 

A/N: *Cue sarcastic voice* I have never done this before! How cruel!

Also, this may or may not be the couple in prompt four. Just maybe.  Sorry not sorry. 

I've been beside his bed all day, his fingers clasped tightly into mine. 

"Are you scared?" That's all that I can keep asking, and it's a fucking stupid question. He's dying. Of course he's scared. He's only sixteen, for God's sake. One minute the biggest issue in your life is trying to come out to your religious family and the next you're hooked up to machines straight from I Robot, struggling to breath through failing lungs, begging for one more chance, needing help going to the bathroom. 

Of course he is scared. 

"Fuck yeah," He answers readily. They say in movies that people with cancer are brave until the end, perfect angels, ready for heaven. What if said person is an athiest? What if they are too young to know a faith? What if they are too high to try and decide either way? 

He doesn't sound anything like that. His voice wavers; his eyes fill with unshed tears; his hand tightens in mine. "Fuck yeah," he repeats, voice shaking.

I don't know what to say, so I kiss his forehead. I can't even tell him it will be alright. I can't tell him so majestic diety with long flowing hair and welcoming arms is on the other side because I am not even sure. If there is a diety he owes this thin, bald, eighteen year old a big ass apology. I know that much. 

So I hold his hand, look into his eyes, nod. 

It seems to be enough for now. 

He nods back, and I wish I could say that I didn't see the tears pulling down his cheeks. I wish I didn't watch his lifeline waning even more. I wish I could say he didn't gasp his last shuddering breath or look at me with enormous fear in his eyes as he went. 

I wish I could say he stayed. 

I wish I could say I didn't end up sobbing, holding him tightly in my arms. I wish I could say I didn't notice the prejudice in one of the nurse's eyes and the pity in the other's. I wish I could say they didn't have to pull me off of him and I didn't fight the whole time. 

I can't.

Fuck yeah. 

Those were his last words.

Fuck yeah.