Dominic
"Stop writing and rest," fixing the sheets on his bed, "if you keep doing that, you'll waste all your energy."
"I have a few things in my mind I want on paper," he whisper, his voice still rough. Whenever he can, he'll grab the journal I made him and write. He tries to push himself, but I end up having to rip the pen away from him. He refuses to let me see and every time I try to get him to spill, he gives me a look. I take a seat on the edge of the bed, watching him. A little grin presented itself, then a chuckle. Sometimes he mumbles what he is writing, then starts moving his hand as fast as he could.
Don't get me wrong, I let him get whatever he wants. Today he had ice cream and yesterday I got him a smoothie. I hold him every night and even let him watch these god awful movies. Though it makes me angry when he consciously decides to ignore his health, I want to spoil him. I want to keep giving him things that make him smile. Deep down I thrive on seeing his brightness.
I can't ever win against him.
WHen he completed his entry, he placed it back onto his table and reached his arms out to me, "Hug." Unable to contain my chuckle, I move over to him and pull him into my lap. Unhappy with his back to me, he twists his body so he was straddling me. With his fingers, he twists my bangs around his finger, watching them curl up and fall flat. His face reminded me of my siblings whenever I let them have extra desert. He leans his arms onto my shoulders, then pressing a peck onto my forehead, "You're too tall."
"You're just too short."
He pinched the back of neck, making me flinch for a moment but laugh after. Taking his mischevious hand away from my neck, I place a kiss on his palm, which giggles lightly, "You're a very touchy person."
"I like touching," I kissed up his arm, stopping at his elbow, "it's another form of communication."
"I like it too," he relaxed in my lap, placing his head on my shoulder, "I like your touch."
"You're words are clever and seductive," I teased him, pushing him back a bit, so I could see his face. He was very red, sweaty a bit. Bringing my hand to his forehead, I mutter, "You're too warm. You need to lay down."
"No," he mumbled, "let me hold you for a bit longer."
"Noah-" "Please? Please Dominic?" His whiny tone got the best of me. I let him just hold onto me as I rubbed his back. I was becoming more and more scared as the days passed. Holding him firmly, I inhale his scent. Chemicals and baby lotion. The only things he's been surrounded by.
~
Rubbing my head with a towel, I head down the stairs to make everyone's meals for the day. Lately I've been making the same things everyday. Sandwiches, pastas, and burgers. Trying to make it a bit better, I decide to make them a fruit salad with a side of homemade yogurt. When I finished, Malik was already downstairs.
"I'm still not used to seeing you up this early. I feel like I should be running up the steps and kicking you out of bed?" I closed the doors to the fridge.
"Well I used to be able to mess around when you were home," he laughed, coming beside me. Noah asked me to bring him some cookies yesterday. I think he's trying to make up for all the lost time. If I'm correct, Kendra said something about him liking Oreos, but what kind? We have millions of Oreos, so I just took a few of each. Placing them in baggies and tossing them into my bag, I tried to move as quickly as I could.
When Malik wrapped his arms around me.
My body just stopped, "What are you doing?"
Squeezing me tighter, "You can cry Dom... I won't judge you. I can tell... I can see you're scared. Every time you come home you're frantic. Like you are running out of time... I know. It's okay Dom. It's okay."
Without realizing it, tears were streaming down, falling onto my bag. My lips quivered and my chest heaved, "I... He can't die. He can't fucking die Malik. Not when I finally got to meet him. Not when he touches me the way he does. Not when he smiles the way he does. Not when I so fucking confused whether I am falling for him or just infatuated. He can't fucking die! God...He's so fucked up! Why would he choose him? Choose someone else! Choose some asshole who molests children or killers! Why give those who are fucking bright and kind in this fucking damned world a short life? Why does he have to be taken? Why do I have to be the one who is alone to watch him die? Why isn't his family strong? Why isn't there no fucking doctor who can help us? He can't fucking die until he answers all those questions, answers every single one of my questions. If he can just survive to answer all my questions, then I'll just continue to make more and more questions! I want to fucking hold him properly, see him running around and smiling. I want to see the him before all this bullshit! Before he was diagnosed and damned to forever pain. I don't want him to die but I can't fucking handle seeing him suffer like this anymore. It's killing me! It's fucking ripping me apart! I feel like my fucking chest is going to be ripped out and my mind just beaten into dust. Everything is a fucking jumbled mess and all I fucking want is him! I fucking want him, but I can't fucking have him!" I just continue to sob and sob, like an infant screaming for his mother's attention.
The pain was deadly, sickening. It made me think that I may die with him, but as I quivered and screamed, Malik just supported me. He let me fall apart, but made sure to catch the pieces and glue them together.
I never knew how broken I was until now.
Until I began to crumble into nothing.