After I Met You

23

As I'm approaching Logan's room I let myself think about just turning around and going back to catch the bus back to school. I'm so nervous that my palms are sweating, hardly able to hold onto these stupid flowers I purchased at the gift shop downstairs. Why did I even buy these in the first place? I know Logan will think that this is the corniest thing on the planet.

I attempt to shake off my nerves and turn the handle of the door without allowing myself to think about it any further. I don't hear voices when I step in, and when I pull back the curtain I see him sleeping soundly in the bed.

There's just a bunch of machines beeping around him. I'm assuming his parents went to go get something to eat because they aren't here, so I gently place the vase filled with flowers on the table beside him and bite on my lip to hold the tears back.

He doesn't look like Logan. He's not happy and cheerful. He's not cracking a joke. He's pale and lifeless as he lays there sleeping, a piece of my heart completely breaking.

"Damn you." I mutter and shake my head, sitting down into one of the blue plastic seats. The chair screeches against the floor when I do, and Logan's eyes immediately pop open.

He's almost in disbelief that I'm here for a second. A smile slowly spreads across his face though when reality sinks in. "Garcia..." he trails off. He sees the look on my face though and lets out a sigh. "Damn. You're going to get all emotional on me again, aren't you?"

I'm not sure if it's because I'm going to miss his sarcastic self so much, or if it's because I'm so angry that he didn't tell me sooner, but I can't even come up with a witty reply. I just let the tears fall and stare down at my hands in my lap.

"Come here, Garcia." He sighs again and moves over in the hospital bed, patting the spot beside him.

I can't even move though. I just start to sob again for the millionth time, still unable to look him in the eye. Life is so fucking unfair. I don't even want to look at him because the moment I do I know that I'm going to be a freaking wreck. I can't lose him. I just can't. Not after all that he's done for me.

"Elena." He says. This time his voice is serious. "Come here, please."

Rising up from the chair, I wipe my nose with the back of my sleeve from all the crying and climb into the bed beside him. He pulls me against his chest and lets me cry into his hospital gown. I cry for almost ten minutes before I'm able to allow myself to somewhat calm down as he rubs up and down my back.

"W-why didn't you tell me?" I finally choke out.

He tilts my chin up to look at him and wipes underneath my eyes to get rid of the tears. "Because of this reason right here." He says. "I didn't want to hurt you."

Our conversation from the pond a few weeks ago echoes back into my head, and once again everything seems to make sense now. That's why he didn't want to tell me why he was crying.

"I still could have helped. I could have done something."

"You did more than you needed to." He smiles. "I wasn't planning to make anymore friends, Garcia. After my diagnosis I kind of just wrote everything off. I never thought going to a support group that I'd meet my best fucking-" he stops himself and clears his throat. "My best friend."

The tears start to flow again, but he nudges me and lets out a laugh. "I'm not dead yet, Garcia. I'm still here. Save all of that for the funeral."

"How can you be so positive about all of this?" I ask in disbelief. "How is all of this so easy for you?"

"Because after I was diagnosed I just... I don't know. I used to be miserable about it. I mean, how are you supposed to feel when you're the only kid in the entire hospital to ever be diagnosed with lung cancer? This shit normally hits people at like sixty. I was thirteen when I found out. I was like some sort of rare breed."