Falling Down // M.C.

Fading to Grey

I woke up late to my best friend clinging to me like a sloth and the machines that were connected to me going off loudly. I groaned and swatted at Mason, trying to get her off of me so she could turn the machines off before the nurse came in and yelled at us. Again. It's happened so often that the nurse on duty usually just yells to see if I'm actually dying, which should probably be an issue but I got too much of kick out of it to care. "Mason Lee, if you get kicked out of the hospital just because you wanted to cuddle I will punch you in the boob." I muttered and she rolled off of me, connecting the wires back to my chest and waving at the nurse when she popped her head into my room. "You two give me so much anxiety, it's ridiculous. Call if anything real happens." I smiled into my pillow and Mason closed the door after the nurse left, walking back over to me and flopping on the before rolling over to face me. I stuck my tongue out at her and closed my eyes, intent on going back to sleep but she had other plans.

"Do you not remember what day it is, or do I need to come back in a few minutes and we can start again?" Mason asked, poking me in the cheek until I opened up one eye to glare at her.  "It's the day you let me sleep in for once?" Mason laughed softly and shook her head, sitting up and trying to tug me up with her but I just fell back into her lap when she let me go. I tried to pull the blanket over my head but Mason grabbed it and threw it in the floor, leaving my legs exposed to the cold air and I curled up into myself trying to get rid of the goosebumps. "Lilly! Seriously, you have to get up and start getting ready! You have, like, thirty minutes before your band people start showing up and I doubt you want them to see you in your pjs. Go!" Mason leaned down to whisper in my ear, yelling the last part and making me jerk out of the bed and fall in the floor. I groaned in pain and rubbed my hipbone, trying to make sure it didn't feel cracked. One bad thing about bone cancer, I could hipcheck a drawer and break six bones. Mason leaned over the edge of the bed with wide eyes and laughed when I flipped her off, relieved that I wasn't broken. I pulled the charger cord until my phone landed on my chest and checked the time, sitting up fast when I saw that Mason was telling the truth about how long I had to get ready.

"I don't have enough time to actually get ready, what is life?" I drew out, hitting my head against the side of the bed and Mason patted my shoulder in sympathy until I stood up. "Help me get ready?" I asked and she was off the bed before it was even out of my mouth, stretching before following me to the bathroom and sitting on the toilet after she put the lid down. "How do you even function with these...things attached to you?" Mason asked, gesturing to the I.V and heart monitor that were still connected to me. I shrugged and grabbed my toothbrush, doing this awkward hip shimmy until I was done brushing my teeth and turned to face her. "I deal with it because I have to. But, I do know some things." I turned off the heart monitor before taking the sticky parts off of my chest and slipping the I.V. needle out of my arm. It was a little gross, but hey. I had 23 minutes to get ready  and desperate times call for desperate measures and I was so not above using the tricks I learned when I was 16. Mason gagged a little and I giggled at her, she never liked anything that had to do with the hospital. Or bodies. Or bodily fluids. It's actually sort of a wonder how she's my best friend considering the last two years have been nothing but that.

"Grab me clothes and I'll attempt to make myself look somewhat presentable for these people, 20 minutes before we're doomed." I pointed to the little dresser that was beside the bed and Mason went to it, holding up options while I ran my fingers through my hair in an attempt to make the short locks stop sticking up."Just pick something I don't look twelve in, I'm gonna do my makeup." I said before turning to face the crappy hospital mirror and grabbing my small makeup bag, dumping the contents out on the counter. Foundation, powder, blush, and mascara because when you're dying you're always pale and no one really pays attention to what your face looks like. Unless you're the one dying and want pictures to hang up in your bland hospital room so you have something to remind you of the good times. I was in the middle of slathering my foundation all over my face when Mason came up behind me and started to push my shirt up, pinching my side so I would lift my arms up and she could take my shirt off of me and slip my arms through my bra straps. She buckled it while I put powder on and shoved a sweater over my head, helping me put my arms through the sleeves before leaving to grab the pants. I made the awkward blush face and made my cheeks pink, leaning in close to make sure I didn't look like a clown before putting on my mascara and Mason came back into the bathroom.