Reflections

Chapter 7-Gabriel

"We'll give you a year at most." The actual Doctor said, looking at me with such sympathy in her bright blue eyes. I knew these types of things weren't easy to deliver just from looking at her.

I didn't exactly know what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn't lung cancer. I would've laughed in someone's face if they told me 10 years earlier my demise would be my own lungs murdering me, but hey, whadd'ya know?

I didn't really want to believe it all at first, the shock and confusion was definitely not something that could be overlooked. But what really shocked me, was my acceptance. I accepted it quicker than a kid accepting candy. I accepted it. I knew I was going to die, drown on my own blood as the cancer slowly kills my body.

But I couldn't find it in myself to be angry. Couldn't find it in myself to feel all of these emotions people usually would from hearing that they would die in about a year. Anger, shock, denial, depression, bargaining. No, I felt acceptance.

"A year?" I asked, my voice sounding unsure. There was that not wanting to believe it.

"Yes, sir." The doctor said, looking at my face for a reaction.

I never knew why they did that, looked so intently at their patient's face to see a reaction. It was kind of creepy if I'm being completely honest.

"Okay." I shrugged, faking a yawn, because if I was being completely honest, I just wanted to talk to the cute boy across from me. I also just wanted her to leave. But mainly for the cute boy.

With that, she nodded, and left, her heels clicking against the tiled white floor.

"Soooo," I drawled out, looking at the other guy in the bed. "What are you in here for? Don't suppose it's for STD's right?"

I heard the other guy scoff, but he didn't turn around, his back kept facing towards me. Even from here, I could tell how tense he was, how angry he was.

"Was that a yes?" I asked, not really helping his anger nor my case. "Oh, oh, I get it now!" I chuckled. "You're just embarrassed. It's alright, buddy, happens to the best of us." I whispered back to him, a grin on my features.

The guy turned around, and I can see how pale he was. It made the redness of his eyes pop, and my grin faltered for just a moment before it returned.

"Do you ever, honestly, shut up?" He asked harshly.

"Ouchie, my ego." I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes but smirked. "So, what's your name, tough guy?"

The guy just rolled his astonishing hazel eyes, turning back on his side so his back faces towards me. He was angry, at what? Probably me, to be completely honest. But maybe it was more; more that he was hiding as he looked longingly out the window.

"Do you do more than sulk around?" I said, and at this point I was just trying to get under his skin, make him break.

He gave me no answer, just the steady rise and fall of his shoulders and he stared out of the window.

"Hellooooo?" I drawled. "I'm talking to you, ya know?"

The boy scoffed, and I could practically hear the eye roll. "Yeah, I know. It's kind of hard to not notice when you don't shut up."

"Oh, well, I have a nack for talking, I suppose." I say, stating the obvious. We sat in silence for awhile, before I groaned loudly and rolled my head to the side. "Yeah know, you're in here with me, so.." I stopped, thinking about my next words, but they didn't come lightly. "You're just gunna die."

"Wow, couldn't have said it any blunter?" He scoffed, turning his body so it faced towards me. "Look, dude, I know I'm dying. Can't you honestly just shut the hell up about it?"

And from those words alone, I knew he wasn't angry at me, he was angry at the fact he was dying. Dying. Such a strange concept. We all get born, live a life, just to die.

"What's the point of being angry at it?" I asked, my own voice surprising even me at how soft it was.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean," I sighed, propping myself up on the pillows more, looking over at him, whiskey colored eyes meeting hazel. Wow. Didn't know I could be so... dramatic. "I can tell you're angry because you're dying. Your body finally decided to say 'screw you!' And you're dying from what?" I asked, a small grin on my face.

Besides, what's the point in sulking around when you're just gunna die in the end anyway?

"A brain tumor," he finally said. "Not STD's, by the way." And his voice held a joking manner, though I could still hear an edge of anger behind it.

"A brain tumor? Damn. That must suck monkey balls." I said, sighing, but I couldn't bring it in myself to really care. I mean, yeah, sure, I felt bad for the kid, but we were in the same boat.

"Monkey... ya know what, never mind." He sighed heavily, turning his body (once again, may I add) so that he was facing upwards towards the ceiling.

His words broke a chuckle out of me. "What's your name anyway?" I asked once again, looking up at the ceiling as well. Boring ceiling tiles, some looked like the hospital has sprung a leak at one point or another. But everything was the same. The same old hospital smell, the smell of alcohol and hand sanitizer. The depressing feel of people being sick and people dying. It was all the same.

"Sam," He said, breaking me from my thoughts. "Samuel Winchester."

"Winchester?" I repeated. "Any relation to Sarah Winchester?" I smirked.

"Who?..."

I gasped, looking at him as he looked at me.

"One of these days, Sammy-"

"Sam."

"-we are going to the Winchester House." I smirked, completely brushing off his statement.

Sam just scoffed, but I saw the corner of his lips curl up. "Yeah, if we make it that far."

I blew out a whistle through my lips, folding my hands together. "That got dark quick." I chuckled.

But maybe he was right. If we make it that far. If anything, we'd both die in these hospital beds in these shitty, paper hospital gowns. We'll look pale and skinny, our lips will have no color to them. We'll be gasping out breathes as we try to say our last goodbyes to our loved ones.

But the only thing that will be left, shining bright and with color, is our eyes. His will still be those beautiful hazel color, shining brightly from the light and from tears, but there would still be that childish wonder that got taken away from our sickness. And then, when I die, my eyes will still be whiskey, shining brightly from the sun and the light. I'll look at my brother Castiel, tell him I love him, and pass peacefully.

Yes, that's how it'll happen. It'll be sad, sure, but we will still have that childish hope in our eyes. That childish hope that our family will live and grow without us. They will cherish their memories and keep our belongings safe and close with them. They will remember our smiles and our laughs and all the great times we had. But I hope they remember the bad too.

I had hope that they would look back at our memories, not as a stain, but as a good thing as a thing to reminisce instead of stray away from. I hope they say our names with pride and not fear. I hope that one day, everything will be alright.