We Meet Again (Sequel to Without You)

Treasure Every Moment That You Have

Harry's POV
"Sir, you can go in now." The doctor says, exiting Mus' room. I nod my head, and smile at her. She's been so kind to me, even though I almost bashed her head into a wall. She walks off toward the reception area, and I head into Mus' room. She's lying on the bed, with her right arm on her chest. A thin tube is running across Mus' upper lip, and she has dark circles underneath her eyes. Two days of being majorly sick have definitely taken a toll on her. She looks so weak, and pale. Her hair is spread across the pillow, looking perfect as ever. Mus' eyes are closed, but when she hears the door shut, her eyes fly open; alert. When she realizes it's me, a smile spreads across her face.
"Harry," Mus says. I feel as if she's putting a great amount of effort into saying my name. I know she's tired, and drained out. Anything, and everything that she does requires a lot of effort on her part. The need to take her place is so dominating. I want to be on that bed, and I want her to be standing where I am.
"Mus," I murmur. As I walk over to her bed, there's pin drop silence. There's a steel stool lying next to the bed, so I pull it closer and take a seat. I take Mus' hand in mine, and kiss the back of it. She smiles, turning her head toward me.
"How are you?" Mus says, warmth radiating off her. Even now, when she's cold, and fragile, she's still surrounded by a certain feeling of warmth. Before I can control myself, a laugh escapes my lips. Mus is lying on this bed, in this horrid place and she's asking me how I am?
"Shouldn't I be the one asking that question?" I say, rubbing circles on her hand with my thumb.
"Well, no." Mus pouts. "You know that I'm fine, and so do I." Huffing, I throw my head back.
"How much longer are you going to lie to me?" I say incredulously. Mus furrows her brow, looking confused. "I know that you're dying. We all know; Louis, Liam, Niall and I." Mus looks disappointed.
"I..."
"You don't have to say anything," I say. "Just...forget about it, okay?"
"Harry, since when have you known?" Mus says, toying with the threads on the blanket with her left hand.
"Since I read your diary. I know you have terminal cancer, Mus. Your case is rare. Most of the people don't have the symptoms that you're having, and their condition does not deteriorate in this manner." Mus bites on her lower lip, moistening her lips. "Why didn't you tell me? I know that you didn't want me to be worried, but why? I have a right to know."
"I...don't know. Harry, if you showed weakness or signs of giving up, I'd break completely. Don't you think it's difficult enough knowing that I am going to die?" I don't answer her question because the answer is obvious. Who wouldn't find this to be a perilous time?
"Are you scared?" I ask her, after a few seconds.
"Yes," Mus nods her head. "But not for myself, for you." It's my turn to be confused. Why is she scared for me?
"Why? I'm not dying."
"Who's going to take care of you after I leave? Hmm?" Mus says, raising an eyebrow. "Who's going to take care of you and Darcy? You've been telling me how your whole world will stop moving when I go. How can I not be scared when you say such things?" I laugh at her thinking.
"Us? You're worried about us, when you're on your deathbed?" I say, leaving her hand and pointing a finger at my chest. For some reason, this annoys me. Why can't she be selfish for once? Why can't she think about herself over others? I get up from the stool, and it moves backwards. It hits the wall and clatters to the ground. Mus cringes at the sound.
"Mus, stop acting! I know you're scared and you should be. It's abnormal not to be scared." I say, throwing my hands in the air and then dropping them against my thighs.
"Harry, why are you yelling?" Mus says, pushing herself up slightly. Mus' elbow gives way from underneath her and she falls back down.
"I-I'm sick of this act of yours. Please...please for one second just be worried about yourself." I'm so mad at her. I'm mad at her for leaving me. I'm mad at her for acting like Mother Teresa. "Just..." I don't know what to say. Instead, I head out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me. I can't take any more steps, so I just sink down against the wall, beside the door.
"Harry?" Louis says, sounding highly worried. I turn my head to find him staring at me, with a white bag in his hands. His face is clouded with concern, and worry.
"She's leaving me," I say. I place my hands over my face, wanting to cover up the tears that are streaming down my face. It's as if the fact that Mus is going, is sinking into my mind for the first time. I feel Louis sit down beside me. He wraps his arms around me, embracing me into a warm hug. I hug him back, just wanting comfort for the first time. I let my tears soak his shoulder.
"She's leaving me, Lou. My Mus, is going." I cry onto Louis' shoulder. He strokes his hand over my hair. This is the first time that I've seen Louis comfort someone and it feels great. I know that Mus is going, but I have so many others.
"Harry, don't sit out here and cry. Go to her, and spend as much time with her as possible." Louis advises, pulling away from me. He's right. Why am I sitting here and crying like a baby? I should be in there with Mus, treasuring every last second that I have with her. I nod my head, wiping my eyes. I get up and as I'm about to enter her room, Louis grabs my arm.
"Hey, listen! I got these for you." Louis says, holding the bag toward me. I take it from him, smiling.
"Thanks," I say gratefully.
"Give her my love. I'll come to meet her in the evening," Louis says. I nod my head and he heads down the hallway.