Take This To Heart || ImmortalFox

2. The Last Something That Meant Anything.

"Well I thought that we could sit around and talk for hours about things I couldn't say to you, and things that we could never do. And this conversation has had no face when the words take days, you can re-write and erase anything.

You know my heart, so tell me honestly, did you ever really want this? Knows all these."

---

Eddie's Point of View

I slipped into the seat beside Aleks, whom turned his attention away from me and back to James who had begun to speak. He shifted where he sat, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the chair slightly, pushing it back. He also crossed his arms over one another tightly against his chest, heaving in and breathing loudly. 

I blinked only when I heard his name a second time, it had fallen beautifully from James' lips, and I snapped out of the trance I happened to plunge myself into. Then I turned my head to face the others and swallowed hard. My train of thoughts wondered into somewhere deeper, and rather dark; how long had Aleks been here? And what was he suffering from? 

These were questions you can't just toss around to a cancer patient, so I sealed my lips shut tightly. 

I continuously found myself glancing to my right, at who was sitting beside me. On one side, Jordan, and the other, Aleks. I can't seem to keep away from him, and I haven't even properly spoken to him yet. I assumed he caught me on multiple occasions because after more than one time of looking over my shoulder towards his direction, he'd been smirking. It was odd, because when someone you barely even know is watching you, your heart shouldn't begin to pound against your chest, your pupils shouldn't dilate, and beads of sweat shouldn't form on your hairline.

Yet, it was just something he could do to me. 

I snapped around when James' voice rose and I jumped in my seat, ever so slightly.

"So, Aleks, right?" The boy nods, "Tell us about yourself. This is your first day here, we're curious."

He breathes in heavily, wiping his sweating palms on his dark skinny-jeans and lurching forward in the seat. Then he purses his lips and begins to speak.

"I'm twenty-one years old, my name is Aleksandr Marchant. I'm originally from Russia, I moved here when I was very young," he begins. By the spelling choice of his name, I could immediately guess that he was foreign. "I was diagnosed with Leukemia six months ago, started in the ribcage and it worked it's tragic ways throughout my system. I haven't gotten treatment yet, but I should be soon, of course. That's why I'm here, now."

I feel my heart skip a beat when he reports the diagnosis. The survival rate is high, and given his young age, I'm sure he'd survive. Although the treatment should have been immediate, and I fear it may effect to outcome of this all. I'm not sure my mental state could bear watching another cancer patient fall dead-weight on a stretcher. 

My stomach tightens and pulls together, causing me to cringe slightly. 

"I feel great, though. I've been carrying on fine, until recently, I assume. I fell sick and that was when I had been sent here." Aleks continues. "Although I'm not scared anymore. I'm not afraid of my cancer. Shit will happen, and I guess that's why we're all here."

He's wise and insightful, and opened up immediately. I can relate to what he's saying; I'm not afraid of my Lymphoma either, nor do I run from death. I guess that's why I liked him. Although I've been suffering much longer than he has, and he's already bolder and stronger than I am. People like myself could only pray to be someone like that, and I admired it.