You Can't Sing Without Air- Harry Styles Fanfic

22. Make-A-Wish Kid Grows Up

Most sick kids have a bucket list. It's trope that's fueled countless movies, books, and even songs. 'Girl with cancer falls in love with boy who also has cancer and they go to Europe to find meaning'. Or 'sick girl locked away in her house can only be content when she steps outside'. Or 'sick boy gets in a van with his best friends and road-trips across the country to feel alive'. I've seen and read them all. Eventually someone dies and the book closes with an inspirational quote and the movie with an Ed Sheeran song. 

Me, I never had a bucket list. Sure, I dreamed of seeing the world and all that shit, but I never had a void to fill or a calling to answer. That was Niall. 

When I was sixteen I was offered a wish from the Make-A-Wish people. I politely declined. Niall was able to offer me more than they could if I asked, but I never did. I wouldn't know what to ask for.  

As long as I can remember, I've only ever wanted two things. One, to be healthy. And two, to fall in love. It wasn't long before I gave up on the first wish. As much as I hated it, Cystic Fibrosis was a part of me, and health was a fleeting illusion. 

The second wish lasted a little longer, but not by much. I remember going to my school's formal dance with a guy I knew from Chemistry class. I overheard his friends in the hall desperately trying to talk him out of asking me out. "What's the point of dating a girl that's just going to die soon?", they said. I never even got the chance to dance with him. 

The fact of the matter is, I never thought it would be fair to love someone only to leave them. I know plenty of CFers who get married and live happy, fulfilling lives. But for some reason, I could never picture it for myself.  

I've had my share of one-night stands and drunken hookups-  I just never let anyone get close enough to love me. It's bad enough knowing that one day I'll leave Niall and Sean behind. 

Yet here I am, laying in bed next to the man of the dreams I never dared to dream. A man who loves me for who I am, despite all the shit CF puts me through. Somehow, despite my best intentions not to, I love him. I used to think it would be unfair to love someone who would only watch me die. Now, it seems unfair not to love him. After all, everyone dies eventually.

For now, I watch him sleep. He lays sprawled across the bed, like someone who's used to falling asleep wherever. He looks five years younger when he sleeps, his face soft and squishy. I run my fingers through his hair and he doesn't stir.  

Three more days.

 Not for the first time I wish it could last forever. I have no idea what to expect when it's over. Harry's tour starts soon, and I'll be here waiting. I can't fly to him, so maybe he'll fly to me. I wonder how often he gets breaks in between shows. Niall only gets them every few weeks, and even then only for a few days at a time. 

Niall's tour starts soon too. I wonder if he'll force me to get a nurse to stay while he's gone. The thought makes my blood boil, although I'm starting to realize it may be a necessary evil. At least I won't be in hospital. 

Harry sighs and turns over in his sleep. I take the opportunity to get up and start my IV for the night. I tiptoe to my treatment room to get my IV pole and a bag of fluids, hooking myself up. My head is throbbing behind my eyes, and as much as I don't want to know, I grab a thermometer to check my temperature.  

102.3 

Worse than I thought.  

I toss back a few Advils and head to the guest bedroom where Harry is sleeping. I tuck myself in bed next to him, careful not to jostle him awake. Although something tells me I could probably drop a bucket of water on him and he would sleep through it.  

The Advil slowly kicks in and I eventually fall asleep beside him, wishing that the next few days could last forever.

......................................................................................

The bed is empty when I wake up. I cough until I can't cough anymore and almost fall asleep again trying to recover. I feel even worse than yesterday, if that's even possible. My body aches and I struggle to breathe even more than usual. I feel like my chest is full of liquid.

"Pancakes anyone?" Harry says, appearing in the doorway with a tray of food.  

The sight of him lifts my spirits and I try to ignore the pain that seems to come from every part of me. 

"You're amazing." I say, scooting over to make room for him on the bed. 

He leans over to kiss me.

"Last night was.... incredible." He says, smiling at me. 

I take a bite of the pancakes. They taste like bananas.  

"These are really good." I say through a mouth full of pancake. 

"Thanks." He says. "My mum's recipe." 

"Compliments to your mum." I say, taking another bite. 

Harry reaches to brush my hair away from my face. 

"Ayd, you're really warm." He says, concerned. He presses the back of his hand to my forehead, checking my temperature. 

"Just side effects from antibiotics." I say, brushing his hand away.  

He looks unconvinced but doesn't press further. 

"You don't want any?" I say, pushing the plate towards him, hoping to change the subject. 

"I already ate." he says, "You sleep for a long time."  

"Welcome to the life of a CFer." 

"Also your pump woke me up." he points to my IV. 

"Oh. Sorry. I've learned how to sleep through it, although it's probably not the best habit."  I say. 

He shrugs. "Eh, you've made it this far."

I laugh. 

"You should show me how to set it up so I can fix it next time." He says, gesturing to my IV. 

"Really?" I ask. 

"Sure. As long as I don't have to stick a needle in your chest I'll probably be fine." 

"Okay then. Lets do it."  

I send him off down the hall for all the supplies I need. He ends up taking three trips before he's finally got all the right supplies. For the next thirty minutes I talk him through the process. I show him how to keep the line clean and sterile, how to prime the line and start the pump. He's an eager student. 

"Hey you're pretty good at this! If music doesn't work out you could always go into medicine." 

He takes a bow. 

 "Oh wait, doctors don't bow." He says laughing. "I guess I should just stick to music. Plus I like being the center of attention." 

"Is that so?" I ask, teasingly. 

"Love, I was born for the spotlight." He strikes a pose. 

"Fuck yeah you were, come here." I say. 

He climbs into the bed with me. I run my fingers through my hair subconsciously, only now realizing how greasy it is. I can't remember the last time I washed it. It's a bit difficult to do with a needle sticking out of your chest. It's incredibly dangerous to get an accessed port wet, so the past week or so I've been settling for wash-cloth baths and baby wipes. Unfortunately for my hair, dry shampoo only goes so far. 

"I really need to wash my hair." I say, absentmindedly. 

Harry glances at it. 

"You kind of do." He says. 

"Hey!" 

"You said it babe, not me!"

"You're lucky you're cute." I say, but I think it's really me who's the lucky one.