How I Heal

#3

"What do you think about this dress for tonight?" I asked Harry, pushing my cellphone closer to him so he could see for himself.

"Nice," he mumbled, not even bothering to look up.

"Okay, how about this one?" I skipped to another, desperately attempting to secure his attention.

"Pretty."

"That last one wasn't even a dress," I murmured, grabbing my cellphone and pocketing it.

"Neat," he muttered, obviously ignoring me.

He picked at his food, bringing his beanie down closer to his face.

"Harry," I whispered, praying he would actually look up this time. "Look at me. What's wrong?"

He said nothing, still poking around at his food.

"Why do I even try," he said in a really quiet tone.

It didn't sound like something I was supposed to hear but I caught it.

"C'mon Harry," I tried to encourage. "Please eat something."

"I'm not hungry," he drawled staring at the tray.

"When was your last meal?" I asked him, even though I knew the answer.

He eyed me with something like disappointment and sadness in his stare, giving me an answer before his lips even could.

"Maybe a day ago," he mumbled.

I was so worried about him. Ever since he came to school this morning, he seemed immensely out of it. He was barely eating, he said he hadn't gotten any sleep, and he wasn't even breathing like the average person. He was coughing way more often, always said he felt nauseous and his skin looked a bit clammy.

He was paler, his eyes seemed emptier, and he was caving into himself.

I felt like complete shit actually.

Harry didn't know I knew that he went to the hospital. He also didn't know I was there.

Later after I spoke to him while he wasn't conscious, the doctors had told me that Harry had developed a cold.

Now, I know that probably didn't sound like anything serious to the average person. But for with someone with lung cancer, that increases the risk for pneumonia.

That would inevitably end his life.

But I didn't want to think about it.

I guess I really thought that, some way somehow, he would just be okay.

I knew he wasn't immortal but I always hoped he could be.

I looked away from him trying not to feel sad. Maybe I was just freaking out.

Harry did say this wasn't the worst he had ever felt.

I almost had a moment of regret, realizing that the night he got sick, he was supposed to meet my parents. I wish I never suggested it to begin with. That night seemed to just bring more despair with time.

I could only hope this wouldn't affect him too much.

"Here just eat a little more and then I'll get your tray," I suggested, giving him a weak smile.

He reached over to the table, touching my hand reassuringly.

"I'm okay," he whispered through his teeth. "You know that right?"

The look on his face gave me the impression that he was trying to convince himself before he could, me.

I nodded nonetheless, rubbing his hand.