know that i will never marry..

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tw//: slight blood (?)

A month or two passed of this simplistic lifestyle, and I believed Lance was growing better. He had began to stand on his own. He could speak longer sentences without struggling to breathe. He could laugh. He didn't breakout as much in the bath, and he wasn't in as much pain. He smiled.

But the bliss passed, and his coughing fits returned. For nights I'd stay up with him, as blood coated his shirt and blanket. I'd sit there, wondering how to help. Knowing I could do nothing as we lost this fight for time.

The doctor said if he had a bad breakdown and was admitted to the hospital he would have to be taken off of chemo. Then he'd have maybe a week to live.

The attack could be any day now.

So I lived each day on the edge.

I had our things packed for the hospital, in case it occured. Movies and his favorite plushies stuffed to the brim.

I told him he was beautiful. Everyday. As I brushed his hair, I told him how the color was coming back. As I brushed his teeth, I'd have him smile for me, and call him pretty. I'd tell him how nice his skin was, and how handsome he was to me. He's began to blush again. 

His mother is trying to get me a therapist. She says my anxiety and stress is becoming worrisome, and that this mental toll is really taxing. But honestly I don't feel a thing, the only thing on my mind is him. His smile is my therapy. My problems are nothing compared to the pain he goes through everyday.

She says this way of thinking alone is my problem.

But I don't have the money anyway.

A nice man comes everyday to check Lance's vitals, and make sure his equipment is set up correct in his room. He's gentle with Lance, and I make sure to learn something new from him every time he comes. I want Lance to feel comfortable when I take care of him, even if I'm not a professional.

So I pay heavy attention to the man, I watch how his hands work on the machines and how he props up Lance's pillows, measures his medicine.

Lance got the wrong idea.

He had me sit one night after the nurse left. I don't even know his name.

"Keith." Lance had said, reaching for my hand.

"Yeah?" I asked. "What do you need?"

"Answer me something truthfully, ok?"

"Okay."

"Do you find James attractive?"

I blinked. "...who is James?"

"Keith."

"What?"

"The nurse, Keith." He said unamused.

I hadn't been joking, though. "No. I don't. Why? Do you?"

He shook his head. "But it's okay if you do, I get it."

"..Get what?" My forehead creased.

He smiled. "I won't be around much longer, I want you to find someone else and be happy, at some point in the future..." He squeezed my hand weakly.

I pulled away. "Don't talk like that."

He frowned. "Keith, it's true-"

I shook my head. "I don't care. I don't want anyone else. I don't need James to make me happy or anyone else. Only you."

Lance nodded. "I know, I'm sorry if I offended you.." He pulled my arm gently.

I slowly sat back down, face close to his. "It's..it's okay." I laid my head on his shoulder as he held me.

"I..will never remarry, Lance. But not for the reason you may think."

Lance hummed against my head, curling his fingers in my hair. "Oh?"

"I'm just tired Lance...and I'd be happier alone with your memory." I glanced up at him. "Is that okay?"

Lance was crying, his eyes tearing up as his lip quivered. He smiled. "That's fine."

"Okay." I smiled, placing my head back on Lance's shoulders.

"Are you happy with me?" I then asked into Lance's shirt.

Lance's heart beat sped up against my ears. I smiled at the answer.

"I've never been happier."

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