The Space Between Us [Five Feet Apart Fanfic]

Will

Hi, I just read Five Feet Apart because I'd heard the movie was coming out.... very bad decision! I didn't do my homework and just read it in like three hours straight (I needed the bathroom so badly when I was finished 😵).

But... yeah. I wanted Five Feet Apart to end on a happier note, so here's a quite short story that I wrote while jacked up on strong tea and tears. I know it's weird... I know....

It's also important to mention that I've seen online that some progress has been made using drugs for is CF, and I'm praying that soon new cures will become prominent like the fictional one I mention in this story. All of us will keep on praying. ❤️

Here's the story:
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I'm at home when I call Stella, sitting in my old bedroom. It's been feeling far too small for me lately.

I've been putting off this call for a few days now - not because I don't want to speak to her, but because I do want to. Far too much.

And I barely know what I should say.

The phone rings, the sound filling the otherwise silent room. Seconds pass. She doesn't answer.

I almost laugh at myself, my simultaneous relief and disappointment. Then I make myself call again.

Each ring is longer than the last, until finally it clicks to her voicemail. "Hey, it's Stella - leave a message!"

The sound of her voice makes me shiver - I haven't heard it in so long. Her breathing sounds so clear. Normal.

And mine, now, is almost the same.

The tone sounds, and I hesitate. "Hey Stella. It's Will. I... I just wanted to let you know, I guess, that I've done another trial on that drug Cevaflomalin, the one I was taking when I met you. It's weird, apparently none of the participants had a positive reaction the first time round - so they've been working on it for about two years, and altered some stuff."

Technical language, I know. If Stella were me, she'd have memorised everything about the drug trials. Honestly, I just took whatever the nurses gave me. I didn't really ask questions.

"So, yeah. My mom talked me into one more trial, and I guess I didn't have much to lose. I'd done some traveling - remember we met at the airport once? I didn't go home after that for a year, basically. You probably did the same, right?"

We'd sent the occasional photo to each other over the last few years. I'd taken pictures of mountains in front of sunrises and snow on buildings and street graffiti. She'd sent me selfies on wide beaches, photos of drinks on balconies, tips she'd learnt on how to order food in different languages.

But we hadn't talked much more than that, neither of us willing to keep breaking our hearts anymore than we'd already done.

So really, I don't have much of an idea what she's been doing. Where she is now, whether she's still thinking about me while I'm leaving this stupid voicemail.

I clear my throat. "Anyway, the point is - I agreed to it, and the whole thing was basically a year of on and off testing. But the results were good." I cast my eyes up to my bedroom ceiling, falling backwards onto my bed. "Really, really good. There were a bunch of other participants with me, and a lot of us were showing signs of improvement. My B. cepacia - the bacteria basically dried up. And so they kept experimenting - then I got my results a week ago." I take a deep, clear breath. "I don't have CF, Stella."

I shiver every time I say it. My hope is an unreal thing - everything lately has a dreamlike quality to it. Like I'm just waiting to wake up and find out the cure was all a mistake.

"I mean," I say quickly, kind of just babbling at this point - smooth, Will - "my lungs are still basically fucked. The bacteria, mucus, all that crap's pretty much gone, but they're still weak from the infection. So I'm on the transplant waiting list again."

I shrug my shoulders, even though she won't see me, even though I feel anything but casual at the moment. "But who knows? I was kept in hospital this week for monitoring, but I'm basically free for a while while they keep working through the results - when they next call me back they might have made more plans for treatment."

Then I swallow, rolling onto my side so I'm lying on my pillow. "So I'm not healthy, exactly. But I'm basically cured."

Cured. A chance of normal life for at least another year or two. Maybe more, if progress keeps up.

I'm silent for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell I should say. This was a mistake - I should have just texted. Stella will think my call means I want to see her again.

"Anyway," I say, finally, "just wanted to let you know. Just - uh... yeah. Hope you're having fun, wherever you are." I smile, slightly. "Ticking things off your lists."

Then I hang up, and throw my phone across the room. God, I'm an idiot.

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This was just a chapter to set the scene and drop info, but will update soon - Will and Stella are going to meet! Thanks for reading :))