Niall's Cancer Battle: A 1D Fanfic

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Warmth

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Warmth

**Harry's POV**

My mind hurts and I feel like I might puke. Again and again. The need to relieve myself of everything piling down on top of me, pressing down on me, burying me under this giant pile of heartbreak and confusion. I'm tired of death and loss and hurting.

I'm waiting outside Niall's room. After some kind of operation that I wasn't given details about or allowed to see, the doctors rolled Niall into a room for check-ups. And now here I am. Waiting and waiting and waiting for the green light to go in.

The door opens and I get to my feet. A doctor with a white face mask on and rubber gloves steps towards me. He pulls down the mask, revealing a grim set mouth.

"Is he..?" I can't get myself to finish the sentence. I feel like I might puke.

"I'm afraid...he doesn't have that much time. We tried a couple blood transfusions, but it's progressed to a point that is far beyond untreatable. He's unstable. His mind is literally eating away at itself, searching for some kind of nourishment for satisfaction." The doctor pulls off his gloves and rubs at his exhausted face. "We tried everything. I'm truly sorry for your loss."

So there it is. The apologies for something I've lost. Even though I have not yet lost it. The sad faces and half-hearted goodbyes to a person who is still breathing, even if it's just.

To everyone, he's already dead. A corpse wasting the previous oxygen we breathe in, putting it instead into lungs that will stop functioning soon. A bed that could be used for another patient. A room for another sick or dying person. Just another teenage boy whose life had ended too quickly. A light that burned out too hot and too fast.

"I'd like to see him. I want to see him." My voice wavers, the weakness in it making me sick. I can't breathe.

The doctor nods. "If that's how you prefer it, then go ahead. I have another teenager that needs to be looked at."

"Thank you doctor," I say and shake hands with him. We nod our goodbyes and part separate ways.

I shut my eyes and count to five before I let myself open the door to Niall's room.

The first thing I notice are the wires. They seem to wrap around the bed and machines, creating a sort of web around Niall. They're everywhere. Stuck up his nose and shoved into his arms. He literally looks part machine.

Except a machine wouldn't die in a hospital bed.

The sound of rattling directs my attention to his breathing. His mouth is wide open. I wonder if it's because of the wires in his nose or simply because he isn't receiving enough oxygen through his nasal passage.

I clutch my mid section, the feeling of emptiness eating away my insides. "Niall," I whisper. The tears don't hesitate in falling down my face.

I force my feet to move towards him. I drag a hospital chair beside his bed and sit in it. How many chairs have been placed beside Niall in a hospital bed? How many times have one of us lads have had to witness out friend die? How many fucking times do we have to feel hopeless?!

I reach out tentatively and touch his hand. It's freezing. The blood is probably completely drained out of his fingertips. His skin is almost a faint hue of purple.

"Niall, I want you to know that if you can hear me, that I'm sorry for everything that has happened to you. I never thought that we'd reach this place. Emptiness. Loss. Death," I pause and take in a shaky breath. I clutch his hand in mine. "But I want you to know that this is not fair. It's not fair for you to leave me here alone. Having to sit and watch and endure this torture of you dying before my very eyes. I just want you to wake up and tell me everything will be okay. I need you to tell me that life goes on."