heart like yours / phan

3 / apart

P.

I'm being torn apart.

Only instead of the 'torn apart' where there's parts of your body and blood everywhere like in a horror movie, I'm being metaphorically and physically torn apart inside.

Being a typical teenage cancer patient, I do think about death a significant amount. Pessimistic I know, but I can hardly be optimistic when I've been told I have roughly a month or two left to live out my life trapped in a shitty hospital that smells like cleaning products and sickness and not being able to do anything but lie in a fucking bed waiting for my heart to stop beating.

I fear death, but I also accept it. I'm unsure of what it will bring, probably nothing as Dan says, however I find myself not wanting for everything to just be for nothing. I want to avoid death and die at the same time, which is an odd feeling to say the least.

I sigh deeply and sit Lion back on the table beside me and shift my gaze to out the window instead. The view isn't very nice, just the city featuring usual England weather. With the sky altering tones of grey and raindrops propelling themselves at the window, I wonder is today could be the day.

It's a strange thing, going to sleep every night without knowing if that's the last time you'll close your eyes.

I check my watch to prevent myself from thinking about my inevitable and probably spontaneous time of death. It's 2:54, Dan should be here soon. He usually comes around a quarter past three on weekdays. He runs straight from school, I can tell because he's always in his uniform, his hair is always windswept, back pack hanging off his left shoulder, cheeks pink and lungs heaving from the sudden outburst or energy.

I reach over beside me and pick up my phone, opening the photos app on it. It's weird seeing myself, only healthier, happier and more full of life.

Oh Phil, if only you knew what lies ahead of you, I think as I stare at a photo of Dan and I, back when my biggest worry was the fact that I loved my best friend, hell it still is.

I close the photos app in an attempt to not drive myself insane with who I used to be and the life which I can never live. In my early days of treatment, I fantasised about recovering, my future, my life ahead once this mountain was over with, however I was building a future in my head which is never destined to happen. I'll never make it to the top of this mountain.

"Hey Phil," Dan says, entering with a smile, his usual 'just ran here after school' look and a guitar case in his hand as well.

"Hey, what's with the guitar?" Phil asks, looking quizzically at it, "thought you were a pianist."

"Yeah well, music assignment - we need to try a different instrument for variety or some shit," Dan grumbles, slumping in the chair next to me and setting the black guitar case on the floor, "and I got paired with this romanticised girl who wants to perform an if I stay song."

"Care to play it for me?" I ask with a raised eyebrow, "I could do with some music. Play the cheesy if I stay song!"

Dan hesitates, biting his lip as he weighs up the scenarios of playing or not playing. I ask him and beg him to, and he caves in like he always does - it's funny how I know he'll do anything for me, because that's how much he cares - it's nice.

Dan unbuckles and opens the case, picking the acoustic guitar out and settling it on his lap before sighting, running his fingers over the strings and looking at me.

"Bear in mind I've only been playing for a few hours and you know how terrible my singing is so, prepare to be deafened," Dan forewarns, however I know he's just stalling playing - he's always been shy when it comes to playing music.

He strums a few chords before getting into a patten, and then he closes his eyes and begins to sing, so I quickly make a secret voice memo on my phone.

"Breathe deep, breathe clear. Know that I am here, know that I am here; waiting.

Stay strong, stay gold. You don't have to fear, you don't have to fear; waiting, I-I'll see you soon, I'll see you soon...

How could a heart like yours, ever love a heart like mine? How could I live before..."

I close my eyes too then and just appreciate the song for what it is. I can't help but notice how these lyrics also apply to me and Dan in our situation. I want him so badly, but I'm also not that selfish, nor stupid. What kind of guy would love someone only to lose them in such a short time?

I sigh defeatedly and look back at Dan, who's finished playing now and has returned the guitar to its case.

"You're great Dan, that song as well, it's... you're really something," I say to him, and I mean it.

"Thanks Phil," Dan says with a smile.

And then he does something he hasn't done since I found out I was dying soon;

He reaches forward and intertwined his fingers with my own.