Stand Up (Benedict Cumberbatch fanfic)

14-The One Where I Write

Dear journal,

I feel like I should spend time writing about the cancer itself, but I really don't want to. The cancer is spreading and it's taking over my body. What else is there to say? I'm dying, but I don't want to think about that.

I want to think about Benedict. I want to think about the beautiful man who put this little ring on my finger. I want to think about the man who took me to the seaside in September and made me forget everything with his kisses.

The minute I get to heaven, if I do, I'm going to get down on my knees and thank God from the bottom of my heart. He put Benedict in my life and I could spend a whole eternity trying to thank God for that. He sent me an angel in Benedict.

I hope this doesn't stop him. I hope that acting jobs still come his way, even though he hasn't taken one in about six months. He will. I know it. When he doesn't think I'm looking, I watch his movies and TV shows. It's almost paralysing to watch him. It's absolutely stunning.

I haven't told him the extent of my pain yet. He's always in the room when the doctor is in and when the doctor is asking what my pain level is. It's been a 10 a couple of times, but I always dumb it down to a 9. Not because I'm trying to be strong, but I'm trying to save Benedict. Fine lines are already starting to crease his eyes. I mean, they were before, but these aren't from his intoxicating laughter.

I've noticed that I've fallen into a deep pit of nostalgia. Everything I see seems to remind me of something in my old life, back in Minnesota. A phone will remind me of Colin, a cold slice of pizza will remind me of family game nights, or a CD case will remind me of partying late in college. I should call my roommates up. I wonder if they've even noticed that I'm gone.

There's one memory that I'm clinging to even tighter, though. A few nights ago, long after Benedict was supposed to leave the hospital, a nurse with a particularly strong crush on Benedict snuck us a bottle of Dom Perignon. I think she was hoping to drink it with Benedict, but he just smiled and shut the door in her face. That's what started me laughing. He poured us twin glasses and we didn't stop laughing for the rest of the night. I think we just traded childhood stories and bad jokes, but I remember laughing so hard I was crying. It's the strangest thing to laugh whist crying. It felt nice to be crying for a good reason, though.

I'm going to miss this life. Yes, it's a pity that I didn't get a chance to live a whole lot, but I think these past six months have been good.

The thing I'm going to miss most is Benedict. Every little thing that makes him, him-the nose crinkle when he chuckles, the deep rumbling of his morning voice, the shapeshifter colours of his eyes, the warmness of his touch, and the softness of his lips. I wish I could just bottle up his smile so I could take it with me. That why we'd be able together until Benedict joins me. I hope that's not for a long time.

I don't want him to be too sad when I go. I want him to grieve for a time and then move on. The next time he goes home to get some much needed sleep, I'm going to make him a video. Just a little something for him to hold onto, if I get to hold onto part of his laughter. Just something for him to have. Maybe I can get a start on telling him how much I love him.

I was reading Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut a few days ago and there was one line that really stuck out to me. "Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt." How poetic is that? I want to tell Benedict that in my video. That when I was with him, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt. That I love him more than anything. That