The Pharmacy (UNEDITED)

Chapter Twenty-one

 A very, very awkward silence ensued.

"Well, I must go down to your father now, before he gets bothered," Steiner grinned at Fabian. "I'll leave you two alone."

Fabian muttered a quiet 'bye' before his uncle got up, walked to the door, and gave me a polite nod before leaving. When the click of the door closing was heard, Fabian relaxed himself further into his mattress, and turned to me with a smile.

"You haven't visited in a while," he weakly, and in a very muted way, said.

"I'm sorry for that," I, ashamed, sat on the chair his uncle was in. I went stiff in it. Something about it felt... strange. "Everything's been crazy."

"That makes two of us," He muttered with a pained look that he tried to conceal.

"Why?"

"Nevermind," he quickly brushed off the subject. "What brings you here?"

"Actually, I wanted to tell you something," I swallowed. My chest became heavy, as if someone stuffed it with humid air that choked from the inside. And I had no idea why.

"What? Is something wrong?" He slowly pushed himself up, until he was sitting. His fingers were visibly jittering. I couldn't believe he got tired from having to sit up. How long had I been gone? I felt guilt flush my entire body from my head to my toes.

"No, no, nothing's wrong," I began, "I... actually, forget that. How've you been?"

He gave me a curious look before speaking. "I could be a lot better right now."

"Same as usual?" I asked, a little bit of hope in my tone. I really didn't want to hear that he had gotten worse. I didn't want to have to tell him that I couldn't bear to come anymore.

His face turned to an anguished expression, and that's when a little part of my spirit began to shatter. "No," he said. "It's gotten pretty bad."

I bit my inner lip, "How so?"

His eyebrows pressed against each other, "I don't know. A doctor came over last night, checked me over, then talked to my dad in the hallway. All I heard him say was 'two months left to live'."

"...," I didn't process his words. They floated around my head, swam in my mind. "...what?"

"I, I don't know. Something with my lungs. I think they're worse than the doctor expected," He rushed through the words. The emotion in his face went empty as he laid his chin on his hand and pressed lips against the knuckles of his bent fingers. "I'm sorry."

A dam shattered behind my eyes, and they slowly boiled and burned with a searing heat that I'd felt only a few times before. My throat closed up, my chest felt cold, and my fingers went rigid. Then, the tears spilled out, but silently, like they were sure not to make much noise. I bit on my bottom lip. Hard. My mouth went down in a deep brown as more salty drops of water cascaded down the bridge of my nose, and soaked into the chair. My hands gripped each other like they were hanging on for dear life. It was so bizarre, because, on the outside, I looked like I was swimming in sheer anguish, but on the inside, I was angry. I almost felt, morbid as it is, as if it were his fault for dying. How could he? A voice in my head spoke. How dare he leave you? When you need him most?

"Danique, don't weep," he muttered. "Maybe things will look up." His voice was dry, and fragile. It was an obvious lie. Lies lies lies. As if I needed those.

"How can I not?" I feebly tried to say. "You, you... I can't just hope that things will get better..."

He gave me a puzzled look. "Why does this affect you so?"

I froze. He didn't know. He didn't feel the same. My heart twisted, I felt sick, and an awful, horrible sorrow fell upon me. I should have known. I was ready to get up and walk away, to wallow in my heartbreak, but something was pushing against my lips. Something I had to say.

"Fabian," I stared into his fading eyes, "You are all I have left."