The Boy Upstairs /tronnor/

seventeen

Connor

It's been a few days since our snow adventure. Maybe even weeks. I don't know anymore, every day consists of the same monotonous routine: wake up, meds, eat, nap, wake up, watch some tv, meds, sleep, wake up, bed time meds, eat a small dinner, sleep. Wash, rinse, repeat. Every damn day.

My body's become a lot more tired. I haven't gotten out of bed, but Troye comes in to visit me sometimes. He's gotten thinner, paler, lost a majority of his precious hair. Not that it matters, he still looks beautiful without hair. One afternoon, he walks in holding a bright red wrapped box with a cute little silver bow on top, and a huge smile on his face. 

"What's the occasion?" I laugh. "It isn't our anniversary, is it?"

"Well, partially, I suppose. Our anniversary, babe, that's the 25th." Troye blushes. "This is because our anniversary also happens to fall on Christmas Day, which is why I'm bringing you this!" He hands me the box. "Merry Christmas!"

I stare at the box, tears welling up in my eyes. "I forgot." I mutter. "I didn't get you a present. I don't have a present for you."

"Baby, that's fine." Troye walks over and kisses my forehead. "I don't mind. I figured you'd possibly enjoy this."

"I'll get you your present soon, I promise."

"That's okay." Troye whispers. "For right now, just open yours." I try to maneuver my hands, but they're too weak. Troye leans over and opens it for me. "Ta-da." He smiles as I pull out a picture frame, which holds a picture one of the doctors took of us in our wheelchairs holding hands in the snow. It looks like one of those sex pill commercials with the people in the bathtubs. I laugh for a little bit, then tears take over.

"Thank you, Troye. I love it. I love you."

"I love you more, Conbon." He blushes and sits in the visitor chair by my bed. "So..."

"So..."

We're quiet for a moment, but it's clear Troye is trying to plan out what he's about to say. "Jace died last night."

"Who?" I ask.

"My friend Jace. Well, I believe he was my friend. Me and my friend group kind of stopped hanging out once you and I started to date. My old friends Michael and Jack came in to tell me this morning."

"Aw, baby, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, me too." Troye looks down at his fingers. "He had pancreatic cancer, too. It isn't taking him as fast as it's taking you. It was slower, but it was just as malicious. He was miserable, the poor guy."

"Cancer sucks." I declare.

"Cancer sucks." He repeats, looking up at me with glossy eyes. "Connor, I'm scared."

"I am too, babe." I breathe, grabbing his hands. "I am too." Then, something hits me. "Hey, have you heard from Tyler lately? I know he was admitted to the ICU like a month ago but--"

"Coma." Troye says, stone cold. "He's in a coma."

"Shit." I sigh. 

"I'm losing everyone." Troye chokes. "I lost Jace. I'm losing Tyler. Most importantly, I'm losing you. In, like, a week. And I know it's coming but I'm just not ready and I'm really fucking scared, Con. Why would the world hate us to much as to make me lose the love of my life to fucking cancer right after we realize we're in love? It isn't fair."

"I know it's not." Is all I can say. 

Because, in reality, it isn't. It's not fair at all. You see all these couples getting their happy, fairy tale endings, getting to grow old together, getting to live their lives together and be happy and not have to worry about chemotherapy treatments and how much their funeral is going to cost their parents when they have to put their 18 year old son in the ground. 

And that's exactly what I tell Brenda the next afternoon at my grief therapy session. It's December 20th, and I'm busy working on Troye's present while laying in bed. She's sitting in the same visitor chair Troye sat in yesterday. 

"I know, but God and life work in mysterious ways. I know you and Troye will be okay. You two have a bond that cannot be broken, not even by death. I promise."

"You do?" I whisper, looking up at her face. It's stained by tears from my long speech. Tiny black lines of mascara extend a little bit down under her eyes. 

"I do." She smiles. "I gotta get going, family's starting to come into town." She stands, then walks over and kisses my cheek. "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Connor. I'll never forget you. Just promise me you'll try your best to go peacefully and without any pain."

"I'll try." I choke. This is only my first goodbye. How am I going to handle saying goodbye to everyone else? "Merry Christmas and Happy New Year."

And with a quick wipe of her eyes and a sniffle and a bright smile flashed my way, she walked out the door of my hospital room and out of my life.