cancer《brallon oneshot》

Cancer.

"He was the type of boyfriend that God gives you early, so you feel the loss for the rest of your life.

He was beautiful. Dark umber hair, coffee-colored eyes, a beautiful smile. He was a small guy, short and petite, but it only made him more attractive.

He was talented. He told the story of his troubled past through his music. Piano, guitar, drums, singing... he could do anything.

He was funny. His comments could make anyone laugh, he was just so ridiculous. He'd been that way since I met him in tenth grade; it was like he never grew older.

He was loyal. Sweet. Stunning. Honest.

He was perfect. At least in my eyes.

The only thing he wasn't, was healthy. No, Brendon was a sickly man. And cancer treatments are expensive, especially during stage four.

I didn't care though. My life savings were gone three months in. Chemotherapy, Radiation... yet still nothing seemed to be getting better.

I watched Brendon's dark umber locks fall away. Watched his pale skin grow paler, thinner. Watched his once toned muscles fade away to nothing. Watched his cheekbones begin to protrude, watched bags form under his eyes.

But he was still beautiful. I loved him more than I'd ever loved anything before, and more than I ever will.

I'd lie with him, holding his frail body to mine. He'd curl up against me, always, because he was cold. Always so cold. We'd talk about the last six years we'd been together. Talk about all of our memories. Look trough our pictures. Watch videos we'd taken of each other.

The day I heard 'one month to live' was the second worst day of my life. The first being the day that the one month was up. I knew I needed to make the most of our time together. God, I loved him so fucking much. Still do, honestly. I'll never get over him.

He bought me a video camera our first Christmas together, and I used it just to capture our life. I planned... to put all the short videos together, and play them at our wedding, but... I guess now I'll play it at his funeral."

Dallon pressed play on the laptop connected to the projector, and the video collage began. Friends and family watched as Brendon and Dallon's relationship played out in front of them.

'Dal, really? I look like shit.' Brendon said, sitting on the living room floor beside a Christmas tree.

'Babe, you always look amazing. And I have to try out my new Christmas present!'

Brendon just rolled his eyes, but cast Dallon a small smile before digging into the pile of gifts under the tree.

*

'Dal, why did you bring that to the grocery store?'

'Cause you're cute.'

'That makes no sense, but thanks!'

'I love you'

'I love you too.'

*

'Dallon, tell the camera what you did.'

Dallon sighed, a rag held to his bloody nose. 'I dabbed so hard that I hit myself in the face and gave myself a bloody nose.'

Brendon's loud laughter filled the air as he kept the camera focused on Dallon, who just rolled his eyes.

*

The videos went on. As they played, the people could clearly see Brendon's health deteriorating. Thick, dark hair turned into thin, patchy hair, which turned into no hair at all. Lean muscles turned into skin and bones. Happy smiles became ghosts of joy, too overshadowed by the fear of what happens next to truly reflect any sort of happiness.

Dallon could barely control himself. He wanted to scream and cry. He wanted to yell up to the heavens, why him? Why Brendon? Why take such a young, innocent boy, who had an entire lifetime ahead of him?

He wanted to fly up and find God himself, and punch him straight in the nose. He wanted to jump off of the Empire state, and hit the ground so hard that no one could recognize his body. He wanted to down every bottle of pills in the local pharmacy, and feel the poison slowly kill him. He wanted to stick a barrel full of lead to his forehead and pull the trigger.

But he knew that's not what Brendon would want. So he forced himself to stand there once the video ended. He forced himself to stand five fucking feet away from the love of his life's dead body, in front of a Chapel full of people he's barely even met, and speak.

"Brendon is the love of my life. I'll never forget him."

When he left, he didn't take the car. He'd think too much about the way Brendon used to sit in the passenger seat and sing, watching himself in the visor mirror, and performing for Dallon.

He walked home. Home, where Brendon's things were. All of his clothes, all of his instruments, his favorite snacks, his soap, his fucking toothpaste, his fucking smell.

Dallon hit the floor as soon as he shut the front door behind him. His knees made a loud sound when they came in contact with the hardwood, but he ignored it. He crumpled to the ground, whimpers and sobs falling uncontrollably out of his mouth as his hands shook, his throat closed up, his heart sped up. He forced himself to focus on his breathing, and eventually calmed down enough to drag himself to the bedroom, and into the bed.

The bed where he and Brendon had spent countless nights cuddled against each other. The bed there they'd both lost their virginity. The bed where they'd eaten breakfast, laughed, cried, and spent sick days.

He couldn't stop the tears, they just kept coming. He lied under the covers and sobbed, until finally, he drifted off to sleep. He had no idea what he'd do the next day, another day where he'd wake up to an empty bed. But he wore himself out from crying until he passed out anyway.