❝symptom (pronounced ˈsɪm(p)təm or simp-tem), noun
a physical or mental feature which is regarded as indicating a condition of disease, particularly such a feature that is apparent to the patient.❞
July rolled around. Robin was turning nine, and Hunter and Ryan were making preparations for her birthday.
Elle wasn't having one of her good days.
She lay in bed, feeling her body burn beneath the covers. Her head hurt, and she was crying softly. She was shaking, as though she was cold, though she couldn't be warmer.
Ryan had sat with her all morning, trying to coax her into drinking some sort of medicine, anything, but she wouldn't. So after calling a doctor and getting it confirmed that it was purely a fever because of the cancer and not because of some other infection that could put her in danger, she made a call to someone who might be able to take care of her.
"Ellie?" breathed a voice, and she didn't look around. The room was dark, and she was still trembling and crying softly. "Ellie, what's wrong?"
"It h-hurts," she whispered.
Drew sat beside her, gently lifting her head so that she rested in his lap. His long fingers stroked her hair and massaged her temples. His fingers were cold, and they somehow soothed the burning sensation of the fever. "It's okay," he breathed. "I'm here, okay? I'm taking care of you now."
"I don't want to... it hurts..."
He lifted her blanket off her, to see that she was wearing heavy clothes. A sweater and trackpants? That wouldn't do. He searched through her cupboard until he found her old Tinker Bell pyjamas. Those were thin, they'd help. "Stand up for just a moment, my darling," he said softly.
"N-No-"
"Trust me, okay? I'm gonna help you."
With some help, she sat up in bed, and stood unsteadily. He carefully pulled her sweater off, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "N-No, I don't want-"
"It's okay, cookie," he said. "I'm not going to do anything you're not comfortable with, okay?"
She nodded, and he helped her pull the pyjama shirt on, then the pyjama pants. He couldn't help but notice the multiple bruises all over her legs, like little islands dotted over her skin. Once she was changed, he looked through the top shelf of her cupboard and found a blanket that wasn't too heavy, but would still keep her warm. He made her bed for her, let her lie down on top of her duvet and put the blanket over her. She was still shaking, and he found her blue waterbottle, which had rolled under her bed. "Hey, take a sip. You'll feel better."
"No."
"Come on, just one sip," he said softly, pressing the mouth of the bottle up to her lips. "It's okay, see? It'll make you feel so much better."
She shook her head, beginning to cry again. "No, I don't want to-"
"Please? For me?"
She looked into his eyes, and slowly took the bottle from his hands, taking a shaky sip. "Good girl," he said. "That's my girl. Now, lie down. I'm taking care of you today."
She curled up against him, crying softly, and he lay down beside her, hugging her gently enough that she wouldn't overheat, but tightly enough that he could comfort her. "Shh," he breathed. "It's not the end of the world, okay? You're gonna be just fine."
She took a rattling breath, and he pressed the bottle to her lips again. She took another sip, and he kissed her forehead. "That's my girl," he said softly. "Just a little more, now, come on."
"O-Okay," she said softly, and took a proper gulp this time, shuddering as it made its way down her throat. It was cold, and it made her feel ill. She was still shivering, and moved closer to Drew, whose warmth was comfortable. He was already beginning to sweat- she was extremely warm, but he didn't want her to be upset, lest he moved away. He reached over her, to her curtains, and pulled them shut so that the room was enveloped in darkness. He couldn't see her now- only her silhouette. He kissed her forehead again, and breathed, "It's okay, I promise. You're okay."
Her breathing was still unsteady, and she was still crying, albeit silently now, against his chest. He sighed, kissing her forehead yet again. It was strange, how her burning hot skin was a mesmerising sensation against his lips. His fingers travelled up and down her spine, memorising the feel of her bones beneath her skin.
"D-Drew?"
"Yes, cookie?"
"Can I have tea?"
"Sure. I'll go and ask Ryan to make you some. Drink some more water while I'm gone," he said softly.
She nodded, closing her eyes. "I want peppermint," she requested quietly.
"Alright. Sugar?"
"Three."
"I'll do that. Will you eat something, too?"
"No, I feel sick."
"Come on. At least a biscuit or something."
She lay there quietly. "Toast."
"Yeah? With jelly?"
"No. Nutella."
"Alright. Nutella on toast and peppermint tea coming up." He pecked her lips, and stood up, making sure she was nice and tucked in, and left the room, walking to the kitchen.
Ryan was marking papers, and looked up, adjusting her glasses. "Drew!"
"Hey," he said.
"Is she better?"
"She drank some water, at least. She wants peppermint tea and Nutella on toast."
"I'll do that now, then."
"Where are the kids?"
"Robin and Spencer are playing in the backyard. God knows what Phoenix is doing. Red's right here, and Hunter went to the studio," she said tiredly. "I think I might make myself some tea, too. What will you be having, Drew?"
"Oh- just, erm, tea."
"Black?"
"Cream and sugar."
"How many?"
"Just one."
Ryan put some water to boil, and she looked at Drew with a slight sigh. "Well?"
"Well?" echoed Drew.
"It's July."
"And?"
"Drew, I don't want to upset you," she said softly. "But the doctors don't expect her to see Christmas at this point. She has good days and bad days, and well, today's not a good day."
He nodded, his chest feeling tight. Christmas... it was only five months. Twenty weeks. One hundred and forty days. It wasn't long enough. "Hunter told me, ma'am."
"He told me he did. And he told me you responded... well, you avoided the topic entirely," she said.
"Yeah."
"It's not something we can control," she said gently. "If it happens, it happens. We just need you to realise that if it does, it'll be okay. We'll all be here for each other, and that includes you."
"She's not gonna die," he said. "We're gonna get married. Have kids."
Ryan heard the hope in his voice, and it shattered her heart. She turned away as her eyes filled with tears. "That's a possibility-"
"No, it's not just a possibility. It's fact, it's a damn fact, just like that the sky is blue and that grass is green. She's not going to die."
"She's weak," said Ryan.
"She's the strongest person I know."
"No, I don't mean... I know she's strong. But there's only so much she can fight, my darling. Can't you see that she's getting tired of fighting?"
And the trouble was, he could. He could see how she had gotten thinner since his birthday, how her once toned body, which had only been slightly weakened, was now completely emaciated. He could have counted her ribs if he had wanted to. Her body was riddled with bruises- another thing that hadn't been so prominent when they had made love. Her tears, which burnt him and hurt him more than they hurt her...
"All I need you to do," said Ryan quietly, "is to let her go when she decides it's time."
"No."
"Drew-"
"I'm not doing that," he said, trying to sound steady, though his voice shook. "She's not gonna give in. I know her. She'll never give up."
"Listen-"
"No. No, I don't want to listen. I don't want to freaking listen because all anyone tells me is that my girlfriend is about to die like I don't already know!"
"Shh!" hissed Ryan. "She's still upstairs, she'll hear you!"
He was shaking. "The water's boiling," he mumbled, as he sat down at the breakfast bar and glanced at one of the manuscripts that Ryan was marking.
"Right," she said, standing and making the separate cups of tea. She stirred slowly, and handed Drew a mug that read 'Coffee before Talkie'. He took a sip, and set the mug down harder than necessary. Ryan sat down beside him. "Are you okay?"
He didn't respond, just stared into his mug. He could feel tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, but no. He wouldn't cry. Not now. "Drew, I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'm sorry."
"I don't wanna lose her," he said, so quietly that he could barely hear himself. "I can't. Not now. I finally got her, and I can't lose her now. I love her. I love her more than I've ever loved anything. She's... she's my everything."
"I know," said Ryan. "I know, darling, I-"
"What if Hunter dies?"
"That was a very real possibility after that accident, remember?" she said quietly. "I know how you feel."
His voice broke. "I love her."
"I know."
"I need her. I can't love anyone else. I've never loved anyone else."
"Drew, please-"
"When she started dating Chad, I- I became depressed, and- and I got a girlfriend just to spite her- and I hated it so much. I can't love anyone else."
"You dated someone before Elle?"
"I've dated a lot of people before Elle," he said. "I've just kept quiet about it. And Elle's the one who I loved through all of them, too. Elle's lasted the longest."
"Like who?"
"There was a girl. A boy. Another girl." He laughed slightly, though he was beginning to cry. He hadn't noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks. "I actually asked Felicia out one day, just to spite Ellie. She hated her, so I knew it'd piss her off. She said yes, we went out to see a movie. We kissed. She was my first kiss."
"Was she the first?"
"Yeah. It was Felicia, then- do you remember Declan?"
"Declan Harvey?"
"That's him. We went on a couple of dates, but then he realised he was straight. Only realised after we kissed. That was fun."
Ryan tried not to laugh. "And the third?"
"Her name was Reed. Reed Clarke. We didn't really fancy each other, so it was a flop."
"And Elle knew?"
"I don't know if she knew. Or cared. Maybe she did, but didn't think about it. She's not the jealous type, not like me." He sniffled, wiping his eyes. "I love her so much."
Ryan put an arm around him. "I promise," she said softly, "she loves you, too. You make her happy. That's all I could ask of you."
"I... I should go. Elle wanted her tea."
"Yes. I think the toast is done, too."
He nodded again, standing up and putting his mug in the sink. "The tea was good, Ryan. Thank you."
"No problem."
He washed his face off quickly, to rid any evidence of his crying, and spread the Nutella onto Elle's toast, taking it back upstairs. She was lying under the covers, her eyes closed, but when he walked in, she opened her eyes. Drew noticed that her bottle was emptier than it had been when he had left. "You drank more?"
"Yeah."
"Good," he said. "I'm sorry it took so long."
"That's okay." She gulped. "I, uh, didn't know you dated Declan."
His eyes widened, and his blood ran cold. "You- you heard all of that?"
"I heard some of it." She took a sip of her tea and sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything-"
"No, no-"
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I- I hate knowing that... that you're going to be alone-"
"F*cking hell, Ellie, you're not going to die!" he snapped suddenly. "I won't let you!"
"You can't control it," she breathed. "Neither can I. She's a cruel mistress, fate. She takes and she takes, but she doesn't give."
"Don't go all- all poetic on me, d'you understand?!"
"Please, Drew-"
"You're not going to f*cking die!" he yelled, no longer caring if Phoenix or Ryan or anyone could hear him. "I won't let you die, so stop saying you're going to die, because you won't! You can't! You can't leave me, I still need you-" He broke off, hiding his face in his hands as he began to cry again. "I'll always need you," he said quietly, taking a deep breath. "You can't leave me. Not now. Not now that I finally have you. Not now that you're mine."
Her hands entwined around his, and she pulled his hands away from his face. "Beanbag?"
"Drink your freaking tea," he muttered, facing away from her. "I'll play the piano."
"Drew, please-"
"You need to be hydrated, drink your tea," he said, in the same, flat tone. She got the memo. She drank her tea.
As she took a bite of her toast, she held it out to Drew. "Do you... do you want some?"
"No."
His voice was sharp, cold, and unloving, like a whip. She looked down, and he turned, pausing his playing for a moment as he realised that he had hurt her. "Not- not because I don't want any," he said in a gentler tone. "Just that you need it more than I do. Okay?"
"Yep," she said quietly.
She finished off her toast, and sat on her bed, listening to Drew's playing. "It sounds beautiful," she said softly.
"I, erm, wrote it. It was... it was about you."
"Are there lyrics?"
"No. It's just what I hear in my head whenever I see you." He smiled slightly, wiped his eyes, and kept playing. She listened to the music. It was too beautiful to represent her, surely. Too wonderful and perfect. She wasn't wonderful or perfect- she was twisted, and flawed. But maybe that was what Drew saw in her. Something special. Something that she'd never see in herself, but saw in his eyes.
"Darling?"
"Mmm?"
"Will you come back onto the bed with me?"
His playing faltered, then stopped. He stood up, tall and lanky, and lay down beside Elle, taking a moment to brush her hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry that I'm f*cked up."
"No," she said. "I'm sorry that I made you that way."
And with that, wrapped in his comforting warmth and listening to the steady beat of his heart and soft sounds of his breathing, she fell asleep.
*A/N: ha
Nethii <3*