Make a Wish|| G. Gustin

3.

I wake up in good spirits. As I get dressed, I remember the events that unfolded yesterday. I must have been dreaming right? Or like hallucinating or something. These thoughts drabble on until Barbie comes in with my morning dose.

"So who was your visitor last night? He was cute," she says in her normal upbeat tone.

"Wait so he was real? It wasn't just my tumor giving me hallucinations?"

"Honey he was real I swear to you," she gives me a sweet smile.

"His name is Grant," I shudder as I say his name. A content feeling crashes over me, very contrasted by the usual morning sickness that I have always felt. "He said he would come by later today too."

Barbie studies me for a second. "You like this boy?"

"What no. I met him yesterday," I say sternly.

"Follow you heart, Mare. But take your brain with you," she quotes. What is she talking about? I only just met the guy.

I do all my daily routines, today though included an unneeded MRI. I clean my room a bit even though there wasn't much cleaning that needed to be done. All I do is make my bed and put loose papers in a drawer. I decide that if I am going to keep this friend of mine, I'm going to need to look a little more appealing.

I change out of the hospital gown that I am forced to wear and replace it with a maroon sweater and a pair of black leggings. I lightly cover my face in the foundation that I have had since I got here. I only wear makeup when I have visitors. The skin colored liquid barely fits the tone of my pale skin anymore. That's what happens when you can only go outside once a week.

I finish the coat of foundation, making my face have a slight glow. I swipe on a tad of mascara to even out the black circles under my eyes. I look in the mirror to see a face worn with years of melancholy and pain. No amount of makeup can cover that up.

I try to do my hair to cover up the patches were the hair didn't grow all the way back but it's to no avail. I decide to just put the messy blonde hair in a ponytail.

I stare at myself though the reflective glass and tears well up in my eyes. I barely even recognize myself.

I hear a knock from the door and turn around. Through my blurry eyes I see a tall handsome man smiling at me.

"Hey Grant," I say in a scratchy voice. I blink my tears away as fast as I can and smile back. Despite my dissatisfaction about my appearance, I feel a warm feeling of love when I see Grant's smile. To be honest I didn't even think he would come.

"Hey, what's wrong," he says rushing over to me. I guess my attempt to look content has failed.

"Nothing," I state. He puts his hand on my shoulder and looks into my hazel eyes.

"Mare, I'm not going to pry, but if you ever want to talk about something I will always be here."

I'm grateful for Grant's offer. "Thanks but I'm a pretty private person when it comes to feelings."

"Okay, well I brought food," he says holding up a bag that reads "Panda Express."

"Oh my yes. The food they serve here is puke worthy."

Grant giggles at my comment. I sit on my freshly made hospital bed and cross my fluffy sock covered feet under my legs in Indian Style. Grant joins me, sitting at the foot of my bed setting the large bag of food in between us.

"So, I have to ask, what's it like being a superhero?" I ask as I take out a box of fried rice.

"It's awesome," he responds. "Although it would be way cooler if I could actually run at superhuman speeds."

I take the remote that sits next to me and I flick on the tv. I scroll to the Netflix button that the hospital supplies and scroll through endless amongst of shows and movies that probably aren't even worth watching.

"So you mean you're not actually a super hero?!" I gasp sarcastically.

"Unfortunately no. It's  all just computer graphics," he gives me a fake frown as his voice drips with sarcasm.

We both start to laugh. It feels good. It feels like the dark and sorrowful air that usually lives in this room has been replaced with a light and airy mood.

I turn on Stranger Things,  my new obsession, but continue to carry on the easy conversation with Grant.

"So tell me about yourself," I say.

"I'm pretty much an open book," he says shoving a spoonful of rice in his mouth. "I'm an actor, I love my fans, I have a brother and a sister, I love my family. How 'bout you?"

"Me? I think my life is pretty much explained by this room," I say gesturing around us.

"Besides all of this," he exclaims.

"There is nothing besides this," I mutter. "Since I was seventeen I have been here. It wasn't all bad at first, you know. My friends stuck around for senior year; after that though, let's just say I haven't seen a single one of my friends in person for five years. My high school boyfriend text dumped me the week before senior prom so he could ask Susan Casabar."

"This guy sounds like an ass," snickers Grant. 

"You would be right," I smile then sigh. "I have done nothing with my life. I'm just a nuisance to everyone around me."

"What? That's definitely not true," he says. I ignore his statement and watch the little girl on tv flip a car with her mind. 

"Well," Grant mutters. "I certainly wouldn't call someone who survived two brain surgeries and seven years of a malignant brain tumor a nuisance."

A smile arouses at the corners of my lips. I glance over to the boy next to me and see him staring at the tv, shoving food into his mouth. 

"You're allowed to leave the hospital right?"

I look at Grant in surprise. "Yeah, why?"

"You look like you could use a drink," he infers. 

"Are you asking me out? Because that would be really immature saying cause I met you yesterday," I snicker, but I can't help but blush. "Also I can't drink."

"Why not?"

"It affects chemotherapy," I frown. 

"So you're telling me you have never had a drink in your life?"

"Nope! I was a good girl in highschool, then this happened and yeah."

"When you get better the first thing we are doing is getting wasted," Grant chuckles. 

"Sounds great," I say, trying to sound excited but failing. I know I'm not getting out of here alive and so does everyone else including Grant. The boy next to me hears my tone and immediately seems to regret his statement.

"I- I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No it's fine," I reassure. "Hey who knows. Maybe this piece of crap in my head will stop trying to kill me one day."

"You cover up your feelings with sarcasm a lot don't you?"

"It's my best quality," I say slyly. 

"You're one of a kind, Marybeth Adams," Grant beams. 

"How do you my last name?" I ask defensively.

He picks up the chart that hangs from the foot of my bed and points to wear my full name is written. "I've picked up a few things from Mr. Barry Allen. Playing a CSI kind of makes me more observant."

"No it just makes you a creep," I tease. 

"Ouch. You cause me pain, Mare. Serious pain," he whines holding his hand to his heart like he has been shot. I laugh almost choking on the orange chicken that I devoured. 

"Oh just you wait, Grant Gustin. Just you wait."

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A/N: Foreshadow much??? I don't know.. 

So, assuming that you are all Grant Gustin fans, I also have a Flash Fanfiction Series and if you checked that out it'd be amazing!!!

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