Newt imagines 2

I tried so hard, and yet I failed -pt3

It took Newt and I, three failed attempts to have sex - the first two I chickened out of and the third go we got super close until I vomitted all over the bed, then it turned into less romantic and more yucky and smelly.
Only on the fourth attempt did we actually manage to do it.

I came back into the room, a towel wrapped round my damp body and a beanie on my head. Newt had put some baggy sweatpants on, lying across the ruffled bedding scrolling through instgram photos on his phone. I smirked to myself, pausing to watch his chest muscle contract and relax as he breathed. He rolled his head to me, raising an eyebrow.
"I love you shirtless." I said giggling like a smittened ten year old.
Newt laughed. "Me too."
I rolled my eyes and got some clothes, I began to change under my towel.
Newt laughed again looking up fron his phone. "Seriously? We just had sex y/n."
I stick my tongue out at him. "I don't care."
I finished getting changed into my pjs - shorts and a vest, I wanted to jump on Newt, but knew I couldn't not with my central line and I wasn't supposed to jolt the tumour in my guts incase it came loose. Instead I stepped over Newt, taking my seat on the other side of the bed. He wrapped his arm around me and gave me a peck on the lips. I let it slid, but sometimes I don't think Newt remembered that we weren't dating.
He ran a hand up and down my leg. "Wow your legs are so smooth."
I pushed his hand off. "You know why that is." I sulk - all my hair was gone now, I was like some hairless cat and not the good looking ones.
Newt rested his head on my shoulder, I could feel his muscles straining against my skin. I swear if he cries!
"I don't want you to go tomorrow." He whispered, refering to the fact that tomorrow I would be starting chemo 24/7. It would be my first cycle of chemo out of ten.
I didn't want to go either, the nurses had told me everything that might happen and it sounded so painful. The whole thing was going to be hell, plus I would be locked in a room with my mother for a month before I could come home.
I felt something wet fall on my shoulder.
I shoved Newt off agressively. "Don't fucking cry Newt!" I snapped. He buried his face into his hands and his shoulder began to shake. "I'm so sorry." He sobbed. "It just hurts."
I shake my head pissed off. It hurt for him? "Stop crying or get out!" I snap. "I'm not allowed to cry, so neither should you."
Newt tried to mop up his tears but they kept coming. "I love you so much." He sobbed, his hand reaching out for me.
I scrambled away. "Then you wouldn't cry." I mumbled reaching for the door. I stormed out, getting half way down the corridor. I slid down the wall hugging myself. I felt bad for snapping at him, i loved him too but i couldn't deal with everyone crying when i had to stay strong. I pulled my beanie off running my hand over my hairless head, it was rougher than you would expect, not shiny like all the old men. I ran my hand down my neck and over my shoulders, curving round to my collarbones.... and the dreadful drip. I fiddled with it, I did this most the time, it made everyone cringe in class which I will admit is quite entertaining. I leant my head on the wall... screw it, this was my last night out of a hospital, I would be heading in at six am tomorrow I might as well make the most of it - do something I won't be able to do when I go in.
I got up and went back for Newt. I paused in the doorway watching the cute blonde boy curled into himself on my bed. "You want to go get coffee?" I ask.
Newy flicked his head up, his eyes red and his nose snotty. "Can you walk that far?"
I shrugged. "Lets find out." Newt laughed, snot bursting out his nose. He picked up his top and my coat from the wardrobe. He helped me to put it on, I put my beanie back on and interlocked my fingers with Newt's.

I slumped over, my eyes slowly shutting and then snapping open again. My lips parted, the crispy skin crackling as it was torn apart. The air surged down my throat burning the ulcers that lined my mouth and throat. I coughed, my chest felt as if someone had punched it or like I had an awful cold. My father (had taken over from my mother because she got into such a bad state) was watching the football, he grabbed a tissue and held it under my mouth, I spat out a white manky mess, a combination of puss, mucus and saliva. It left a foul taste in my mouth like I had bitten into a paracetamol tablet. "Dad." I croaked reaching for my button. He handed it to me, from where the nurse left it on the end of the bed. It was like a nunchuck, but it had a large orange button on the top. I curled my fingers around it, my thumb pressing on the button as many times as possible. My father snatched it out my hands. "I think that's enough y/n."
I sighed lying back looking to my six drips, I smiled weakly as I saw the one with the painkillers push more into me.
I was so bored, but couldn't say anything, talking was almost impossible because of all the ulcers. We had turned it into a game of charades at the beginning but that got tiring after the first hour. I picked up one of the tubes being fed into me, I tugged it, the rack the drip hung from edged a little closer but didn't fall over as I had hoped. My dad glared at me, then went back fo his game. We fell out a lot, because unlike my mother who cried and obeyed my every wish he made me do stuff for myself and made me watch his football games and crappy movies. He also knew when I was just being cheeky instead of my mother who assumed every characteristic was a result of the tumour.
"Chips." I whispered, my ravanging stomach craving for something.
"You know you can't eat y/n." My father said. He sighed. "I'll go and get some food when your friends arrive. You can try to eat it."
I flopped my head back, I tried to resist yawning, stretching my mouth open pulled on ulcers making the pain flame up again. I shut my eyes, praying to a god I don't believe in for everything to just end... that I wouldn't wake up in agony.