We Don't Have The Time To Be Sorry(Peterick)

Chaptet One- Everyday is All the Same

Title From: November- Sleeping With Sirens

Warning: This story can be very triggering to some people. If you are VERY sensitive to triggering things, DO NOT READ THIS.

  Patrick Stump-

  I can barely remember a day when I wasn't being pampered to my every want or desire. I hate it. I wish my fucking lungs worked correctly, I wish I wasn't stuck with this fucking oxygen tank, and I wish I never had any tumours on my lungs. That's a lot of wishes.

"Constance, you bitch." Kellin, my best friend, hissed as he watch the first season of American Horror Story again. For some reason he loved that one season with all his heart. In my opinion, I love Freak Show. That shit was the bomb.

"Don't call Jessica Lange a bitch. She's the Supreme." We laugh at my pitiful excuse for a joke. Then the coughing fits begin again. Kellin looked slightly worried until I glared at him a little. The coughing subsided after a bit. "You know I hate it when you worry over me fucking coughing."

"Well, with you, anything can happen." Kellin sighed, closing his laptop that was resting on my lap. "Wanna come down to the cafeteria with me?"

"Sure, anywhere is better than here." I hop off the bed and wipe my sweaty palms on my skinny jeans. They used to fit me pretty well until I started chemo. Thankfully my hair didn't fall out, I just lost a lot of weight. "Why do even want to eat at the cafeteria? Hospital food sucks(it's true, take my word for it)."

"They added SubWay recently." Kellin shrugs and hold the elevator door open for me. My tank clangs against the metal bar at the bottom and on the doors. "And, as you know, SubWay has goodass cookies."

"I want a Coke." I breath. Kellin pulls his phone out and takes a selfie of us together. Kellin laughs at the dumb face he pulled. Somehow, he still looked good because he styled his black hair perfectly and his red beanie makes his blue eyes pop. Whereas I, looked like I had chipmunk cheeks with a tiny body."God, I look like I should be in Alvin and the Chipmunks' new movie."

"Don't say that, you look fabulous." Kellin scolds me. "Oh, Mr. Thomas wanted me to tell you, we have a test on Saturday."

"What?" I groan. Mr. Thomas is my professor. He teaches creative writing. "Doesn't he know that I have fucking cancer and I can't possibly know the answers to any of the questions that test has?!"

"Yeah, he said that it would be unfair to give you more time if nobody else does." Kellin pats my shoulder as I fake cry. "Yes, I know. The struggle is so real."

"You don't know the struggle." I say in fake agony. Then the lift bell dings. "Coke!"

"It isn't what you think it means people." Kellin smiles at the people who gave us weird looks. But it was mainly looks of sympathy or disgust since we are both flaming homosexuals. "Hey, vending machine. Let's get your diabetes in a can and or bottle."

"I love diabetes in a can!" I could barely finish since I was laughing so hard. "How the hell did you know?"

"I'm an amazing friend!" Kellin gave a hearty laugh. "We suck."

"That dick." I blurted out making us go silent. For about three seconds. Then we started crying from laughing so hard. These are the moments that make me so fucking happy to be alive. If it wasn't for Kellin, then I probably would have ended my life a long time ago. Kellin Quinn is the greatest friend I could ever have.
And that only adds to the weight I feel when I know I'll inevitably die.

A/N
So, I basically based Kellin and Patrick's friendship status on me and my friends. We are literally nothing but "We suck"'s and "That dick"'s everyday.