IMAGINES ▹ ROSS BUTLER

↳ the best woman

( THE BEST WOMAN )
by bandstripper

You never thought that when you were told that you were finally dying you would not be afraid of the pain of it or be afraid of the pain it will cause others when you leave.

In fact it was the opposite.

You were actually afraid that you were not important enough for anyone to mourn about; that you have not made enough impact in the world to be actually missed.

What's worst is the amount of hopelessness and the feeling of not having control of anything ... anymore ... ever, gets so suffocating that you were pretty sure it's the stress and not the sickness that will get to you first.

Life has never been so cruel.

"I'm very sorry, Ms. (Y/L/N)." The doctor really looked sympathetic and you just hated him more for it.

"How ..." you closed your eyes, suddenly feeling nauseous, "How long?"
The doctor looked down to the papers - the results - again, as if willing it to change but you both know this was the inevitable. "A year," the chill that went up your spine was something you will never forget.

"At most."

You were terrified, of what to do of the next few months of your life.

What should you do? Fix your will? Prepare for the funeral? Tell everybody?

"Everybody ..." you whispered to yourself, mind running back to the safe haven that was in the form of a 6'3 frame, pitch black hair, and dashing smile that could make anything, even facing death, seem easier.

Your head snapped towards your bedside table where your phone was resting.

"Reggie ..."

You jumped when, as if on cue, your phone rang the familiar ringtone that he saved when you were in High school in your shitty town in Riverdale. Even then you lived in different worlds, with him being Mr. Popular and you being only known as the girl who brought books in a party and hid behind Reggie's back 24/7.

Now however, you were pretty sure the gods were just laughing at you, with him being a professional football player and you, a struggling writer, you were now on different universes - millions of light years away.

But he never let you feel that, to him you were still his best friend, his favorite place, his favorite person.

And that was enough.

You clambered up to the other side of your bed and picked the screaming device in your shaking hands.

"Reg-"
"(Y/N)-"

The two of you laughed, both seeming sad. "You go first." You mumbled.

You really should've gone first.

You heard him sigh and you prepared yourself for another crazy rant about another crazy dream he had knowing it was basically 3 am in the country he was staying in.

"I'm getting married, sunshine."

You see, the thing about a broken heart is that it feels so much worse than being told you're dying.

-

The chattering and happy songs stopped when you stood up and clang your little spoon with the glass you were holding. You couldn't help but stop to appreciate the symbolism behind it.