Terrorcest one shots

This ain't Farewell it's Goodbye

A/N: consider this a warning. And as always, requests are open.

Nikki Sixx, sometime April 2020

"I don't see any improvement in the scan..I'm sorry." The doctors' words are like a final blow of an axe to a tree.

I look down, brain unwilling to accept that I'm truly dying of cancer. I've fought it for almost a year now, and nothing is gonna fix this. I just can't believe this. I remember being diagnosed with stage 2 kidney cancer about last june like it was yesterday, and it just progressed. It just got worse from there, and I'm so tired of trying to hide it from everybody. I've tried everything there is, and  when my Fiance Tommy Lee got concerned about why I looked so pale and sick, I brushed it off and told him I was just coming down with something.

"There are options of course, to make your last couple of weeks more comfortable. Palliative care, hospice, in home nursing-" the doctor starts, but I cut him off before he can finish.

"No. None of that. Tommy doesn't even know, I can't tell him, I'll be fine doc, thank you though." I say, my voice cracking a little. 

"Oh, well it is your choice as the patient...however, over next week or so, your Fiance will definitely begin to notice your deteriorating condition. It will become impossible to hide." The doctor says, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I nod, and we finish up the rest of the appointment. The entire time however, I can't focus on what the doctor is saying. Too many thoughts are running through my mind. The fact that I won't be around for any of my kids next birthdays, that I won't become a grandpa, and that I won't even make it to the tour, disappointing millions of fans. Those are what hit me the hardest.

My Iphone screen lights up with a text from the one person I've told. My lead singer, Vince Neil.

'hey buddy, how's the appointment going? Good news?' Vince's text reads.

I nearly break down at the sight of it. He's been surprisingly supportive throughout my cancer journey, helping to mend our somewhat distant friendship. I don't answer right away, merely gathering my backpack full of papers, song ideas, and my camera.

'Not good. The doctor officially declared that it's terminal.' I reply once I get out of the office.

'terminal!?'

'yeah'

'holy shit Sixx...how long?'

'about 4 weeks.'

I see the 3 dots that indicate 'typing' for a couple of minutes as I lean against the steering wheel. They disappear after that, and it doesn't show that Vince has sent anything.

I sigh, just about to put my phone away and head back to the house. Before I can slip it onto the charger, I get an incoming call from Vince. I'm not really in the mood to talk, but I pick up anyways.

"Hey buddy." Vince looks sympathetic, worried, and worn.

"Hi Vin." I reply, leaning back against the seat.

"I'm-fuck...I'm so sorry Nikki."

"Thanks Vinnie. You've just been...been so supportive..and you know how much I love you like a brother."

"I know Nikki. We'll always be brothers man."

"Thanks."

"No problem. How are you going to tell Tommy?"

"Vince....I'm...I'm gonna...gonna come right out with the truth...I have to."

"Well...it's good that you're going to, but you probably should've Told him a long time ago Sixx."