Letters: A Troyler FanFiction

Chapter 3

Troye's P.O.V.

Pain.

It's the only thing that I can feel whenever I wake up from my frequent naps. It's not just a dull ache in my muscles, but it's a throbbing sear of pain that's settled into my bones and my skull. Sometimes I think it's never going to end. I feel hot all the time, but I shiver from the cold sweats that drench my skin. I want Tyler, but I know the nurses made him leave hours ago. He's the only thing that I know that could possibly help me now--the best medicine they could give me.

A splitting pain in my head wakes me this time, and I automatically slam the button that will call a nurse. Another headache, no doubt. With great difficulty, I turn and look to the clock on my bedside table.

4:08 a.m.

I press the heels of my hands to my head, trying to dull the throb in my temples. No matter how much morphine they shoot into my veins, no matter how many pain relievers I take, nothing helps. Pain had become the only sensation I know. I moan and shiver, shutting my eyes to the dark room that still makes my head pound.

The nurse finally comes in with another needle full of morphine to inject into my IV drip secured in my hand. She turns on a dim light in the corner if the room so it won't hurt my eyes or head, but I keep them open just barely.

"How bad is it Troye?" She asks in a soft voice, grabbing the IV drip and preparing to give me a dose of medicine.

"It hurts," I whimper pathetically, curling up into a ball and clutching my aching arms to my chest.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," she croons, injecting the morphine and repositioning the cannula tubes beneath my nose, sending a stronger current of air into my lungs. "If you need anything, just call again, okay? I promise as soon as we start treatment, it'll get better."

I nod and roll over, pain shooting through me and every nerve in my body screaming at me to stop. What she says reminds me of my condition. The diagnostics still rings clear in my ears.

Acute myeloid leukaemia.

The doctors don't know yet wether I'll last another year with the cancer.

Hell, they don't know wether I'll last the night.

It seems like my life has become one big "I don't know."

They say that my stages are almost advanced, but with this type of leukaemia they don't really know that either. They just hope that I'll make it through the night so they can start chemo in the morning. Chemotherapy. The thought of them pumping poison into my veins to cure me makes me want to laugh. How ironic.

I can already feel the dulling effects of the drugs, and the persistent tug of the drowsiness on my eyelids. But I don't want to sleep. The thought of dying scares me. If I didn't die tonight, I will surely die sooner than I want. But there is so much I haven't done yet, so many things I want to say. And Tyler. Tyler and all my friends and family. There were so many people I would leave behind without even saying goodbye.

There are tears streaming down my cheeks and in my eyes as I fall into a morphine-induced sleep.

~•~•~•~

As the drugs wear off and the pain begins to return just as my consciousness does, my eyes flutter open. Ignoring the ache, I glance around the dim room, and see Tyler asleep in a chair next to my bed. My heart thuds against my ribs, and is displayed by the heart rate monitor next to me. His arm is draped over the plastic rails on the side of my bed and his fingers are lightly rested on mine, his hand cool against my blazing skin. His usually pristinely styled silver-blonde hair is a mess, and he is wearing a pair of old sweatpants and a sweatshirt that doesn't match; glasses askew. He looks like he was in a hurry when he dressed. My throat constricted. I knew he was worried when he woke up and immediately came here. The ache in my heart was more fierce than the ones in my bones because I was causing Tyler all of this worry and pain. Why would I do that to him?