Lily's POV-
I started my first chemotherapy session three days later. It sucked. Chemo absolutely sucked. Sure, it was going to make me better, well at least it was supposed to, but that didn't make it suck any less. Literal poisons were being pumped into my arm through a tube and not only did it hurt like hell at first, but it left horrid bruises, and you can't even imagine how much time I spent with my face shoved into the toilet bowl vomiting my guts out. They had me on a cycle, two weeks of constant therapy and three weeks of rest.
I quit my job at the police station, because it was just too stressful with everything that was going on. Harry was there for the first few days but he had a life to attend to and I wouldn't hold him back from that, even though going in there alone the first time scared the absolute hell out of me. I would have asked someone else to come with me, but there was no one else. Amelia was way too just with school, Ariana was at least four states away, and I was still too upset with my father to even speak to him.
However, I was only alone for the first ten minutes that day. There was a younger girl who had the same appointment time as me. She was scrawny with gorgeous apple colored eyes.
"That's so pretty," she nodded towards the dress in the magazine I was reading.
I smiled at her. "It is. But I think it would look better in dark blue."
"I don't really like blue," she shrugged, picking at the sweat shirt that sat in her lap. "Who are you anyway? I've never seen you before up until last week and I know everyone that comes in here."
"I'm Lily," I told her. "And I do not understand how you hate blue."
She shook her head, the breathing tubes that were connected to her nose followed with each shake. "It's just a basic color is all. Everyone's favorite color seems to be blue."
"Mine isn't."
"What is it then?" She was very talkative and I wondered where her parents were. No way would my parents ever let me be this chatty with an absolute stranger.
"I like orange, I guess," I told her as I flipped the page of my magazine.
She seemed to ponder that for a moment, as if liking a color other than blue was such a big deal. "I like red. I'm Cass by the way."
I smiled at her politely. It was quiet for a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the machine that was "saving" both of our lives.
"Who's that boy that came in here with you the other day?" She reached for the bracelet on my wrist and I didn't pull away. She couldn't have been older than fourteen, it was adorable.
"Where are your parents, Cass, did they just leave you here?" The idea seemed ludicrous to me. Who leaves their child in chemo therapy all by themselves?
"My mom usually goes and visits the kids that live here," she shrugged. It took me a moment to realize she was talking about the children's section of the hospital. "Who is he? Is he your brother?"
"He's my boyfriend," I smiled, just the thought of Harry could make me smile.
"Boyfriend?" She wondered, scrunching her nose.
"What's wrong with that? You're not one of those girls who, like, think boys are gross are you?"
She rolled her eyes and slumped back into her chair, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm thirteen, I think I'm a little too old for the whole 'boys have cooties' thing."
"Then what's so wrong with him?"
"He has a lot of tattoos," she responded, adjusting the cannula in her nose.
"But you can't deny that he's cute." I tried not to notice, but every single girl shamelessly gawked at Harry everywhere we went, as if the girl on his arm was invisible.
She shrugged. "I never said he wasn't." An older woman with long blonde hair entered the room with a nurse, and we both watched as she was put in a chair and hooked up to a machine. "What do you have?"
At first, it was difficult for me to even say the word aloud. It took me a day just to let it sink in (I stared blankly at the wall in our bedroom for a full day until Harry pulled me back in) and it took me another day just to decide what I needed to do. I told my family on the first day of chemo, and there were a lot of tears before my father declared that he was pulling me out of school and making me take online classes instead. I don't think it would ever fully sink in that I had Leukemia. It's one of those things you see but never think could happen to you.
"Leukemia," I told her. "I was just diagnosed, actually."
She nodded understandingly. "How basic."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I didn't mean it in, like, a bad way. Most people that come through here have Leukemia and it's just not really- I don't want to say exciting, because cancer isn't exciting, but I'm going to say it anyway- Leukemia isn't exciting. It's basic. Everyone has it."
It struck me that this girl was so brutally honest. I liked it, honestly. "Oh yeah? What do you have then?"
"Lymphoma. Basically when I was ten I was sick all the time, my mom took me to the doctor and I was diagnosed a few days after." She said it like it was no big deal, as if having to go through almost three years of constant chemotherapy was just a normal thing that everyone went through.
"The same thing happened to me," I told her, closing the magazine and placing it back on the table.
"Are you scared?" She wondered, her voice barely above a whisper. She was staring at the floor, picking off her bright pink nail polish. "Because I am."
"A little," I told her, grabbing her hand in my own. "But I can't afford to think negatively and neither can you."
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I climbed up the stairs to our apartment, my heels clicking against the cement. I felt great, which was odd because I was usually always extremely sick or extremely exhausted after every chemo session. He only thing wrong with me know was the constant growl of my hungry stomach.
I stopped at the door and began taking my heels off. It had been raining all day and Harry would throw a fit if I got mud anywhere on the floor. I stopped when I heard his voice, louder than usual.
"You can't just try and be apart of my-no, it's not going to happen," He yelled as I quietly opened the door. I hung my coat on the rack before making my way to the kitchen, placing my keys on the counter. I went to the fridge and grabbed a yogurt, my stomach growling in pleasure at the thought of eating.
Harry was sitting with his head on the back of the couch, his eyes closed and his knee bouncing furiously. I ignored him, going to our bedroom and changing into a tank top and a pair of sweatpants.
"Who was that?" I wondered, peeling open my yogurt and taking a bite. My taste buds were in heaven and my stomach was finally at ease.
He snapped his head up as I sat cross-legged on the couch beside him. "Who was who?"
I rolled my eyes, taking another spoonful. "Who was that? On the phone?"
He sighed. "Anne."
"Your mother?" He shot me a look that actually kind of scared me. "I mean-uh, what did she want?"
"She invited me over for Christmas." He rolled his eyes and I swear he was about to rip the skin of his arm from digging his nails into it.
"That's great," I grabbed his hand and held it in my own because I was afraid he was hurting himself. He gave me another look. "But you aren't going..?"
"Why the hell would I go?" He asked, yanking his hand out of mine and bouncing it with his leg. "She can't just decide that she wants to-"
"I think you should go," I told him. Anne was making an effort. Although she lacked as a parent before, she was trying now and he should give her a chance. Plus, I was kind of curious to meet this woman and there was no way we were spending the holidays with my family.
"Why? So then-"
"Harry," I cut him off, nuzzling my face into his neck. Maybe if I tried to be cute, I would get what I wanted. "She's trying. Give her a chance."
He sighed when I began gently kissing his neck. "She can't just decide that she wants to be in my life. And stop doing that. I can't think straight when you do that."
I smiled, placing one last kiss under his ear before pulling away. "Please give her a chance. If you don't want to do it for her, do it for me."
"No. Lily-" I pretended to pout. I even crossed my arms over my chest and jutted my lip out. "Oh no, don't do that. Lillian knock it off! It's not fair."
"Harry," I whined. "Please? For me?"
He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his lap, kissing my exposed shoulders. His lips felt warm against my skin and my eyes fluttered with every kiss. I wouldn't ever get used to him.
"Fine, but only because I love you. Don't expect me to be nice, either."
I smiled, clapping excitedly in his lap. "I know this will be tough for you, but I'm so happy you're doing it." I kissed all over his face, ignoring the look of disgust plastered onto it.
"How was chemo today? I'm sorry I wish you would've let me come with you," he said when I pulled away.
"It was chemo, I guess. I met someone."
"Oh yeah?" He asked, resting his chin on the top of my head as I snuggled into his chest.
I nodded, picking at his band t-shirt. "Her name's Cass, she's thirteen. She told me Leukemia was basic."
"Basic? What does that even mean?"
"She's been there for awhile. She's met a lot of people with it, she says it isn't exciting."
"It's not supposed to be exciting, it's cancer." I felt his chest vibrate as he spoke which was soothing.
"She said that too."
He chuckled. "Well, baby, I'm glad you made a friend. How are you feeling?"
"I feel great, actually," I smiled as Harry ran his fingers through my hair.
"Great? So no nausea? No-" he stopped, suddenly stiffening himself out.
"What's the matter with you?" I wondered, pulling away. I froze when I saw a lock of my hair, dangling from his fingers.