Preston's P.O.V.
I was growing weak. Even without the scans every second day I knew the cancer was continuing to grow and I had begun to fully accept that I wouldn't be on earth for much longer. I was still scared of death, just like I had told Rob, but after 7 years of fighting for a life I didn't know if I wanted anymore, death would perhaps be the better and more comforting option.
Rob came to visit whenever he could, which was now every second day or even more. He didn't seem to want to be at home and considering the new bruises that showed up every now and again I wasn't entirely surprised. He hadn't mentioned anything about social services or the police showing up so I assumed they hadn't, that maybe the nurses hadn't report what he had said. I was incredibly worried about him.
Of course, his visits were amazing. He was great company and because I couldn't talk that much he turned to telling stories of anything he could think of just like he had while texting. He was incredibly affectionate as well, gently massaging my shoulders, hugging me or pressing kisses to my cheek, forehead, jaw or lips. Rob loved kisses actually, I suppose to make up for the lack of affection when he was younger.
Days turned into weeks and it was during that time I noticed my increasing weakness and sickness. The doctors didn't talk to me directly about my results but I could tell by the whispers, the increased pain medication and the looks they gave me that it wasn't going to be good. In the end it took two months for everything to go from great, being told I was in remission, going home and feeling pretty good, to going through the strongest treatment possible, that cancer coming back in full force and finally I was told that dreaded word.
I had been curled up on the bed with my head in Rob's lap, both of us silent. He had come to visit quite early but neither of us was up to talking so we lay there in a comfortable silence, Rob gently scratching the back of my head on occasion. We had nothing to occupy us, I was just listening to his breathing, when the doctor came in. He paused when he saw Rob.
"Hi Preston, we need to talk about something pretty... serious. Do you mind if your friend is here?" I shook my head, snuggling slightly closer. I already knew what he was going to say and Rob would need to know too because I wasn't sure if I would be able to tell him myself. "We've been watching your scans and bloodwork very closely over the past few months and it was good to see you in remission, but unfortunately your levels of white blood cells have dropped severely again and..." He sighed deeply. "Leukemia doesn't normally do this and because we can't exactly do a biopsy to confirm our theory this is just a guess, but there are dozens of small masses in your lungs. They are attributing to your sudden relapse and are likely cancerous. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do anymore. Another doctor will be in soon to talk about end of life transfers and medication. Would you like us to call your family?"
I nodded silently, unable to speak. I knew this was coming but it still shocked me to my core to know that I was dying and there was nothing to save me.
"How long?" I finally asked.
"Days, maybe weeks." He said, voice thick, with tears maybe? "The only thing left to do is keep you comfortable, give the pain medication so you aren't suffering. I'm sorry Preston, I really am. I've known you for 7 years now and to see it finally..."
He couldn't even continue, cutting himself off to step out of the room. My eyes flickered shut and the tears began to fall despite me telling myself that I wasn't going be effected. I was, I really was.
"Pr-Preston?" Rob stuttered, and I realised he had gone completely stiff underneath me. I glanced over at him and he had tears falling down his cheeks too. "Masses? Relapse? Nothing they can do? Please tell me I'm dreaming?" I shook my head.
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Losing Our Battles- A Vikklan, Merome and Poofless Story
FanfictionEveryone has their battles. Preston was diagnosed with cancer, leukemia, at 17 years old and 7 years later he was still battling it. He's almost never home, spending months upon end in hospital receiving treatment that is working less and less each...