Ordinary, chapter 19
summary: Ian is diagnosed with cancer. This is the climax of the story.
warnings: sadness and foul language.
rating: pg-13
Ordinary, chapter nineteen
Ian sat patiently in the waiting room, a calm silence surrounding him as he waited for the clock to read three, and Ruby's nasal voice to call him in. He had worked past his experience with Deacon Franklin the day previous, and was now ready to have a normal session with Kris.
At three, Ruby called his name as usual, and he gave her the usual respectful nod as he crossed the waiting room to enter his doctor's office. What he found, however, was out of the ordinary.
"Hello, Ian!" Kris boomed, standing in front of his chair. On the coffee table beside him, an array of food sat on a serving platter, which Ian gave a questioning look before shaking Kris' hand. "You're probably wondering why all this is here." Kris said with a broad smile as they sat down.
"Kind of, yeah. Are you having company?" Ian took a guess.
Kris laughed lightly and shook his head. "I know you've had to start eating healthy since you fell ill, so I decided to get us a nice snack while we talk! I want a nice, relaxed session today."
"Fine by me." Ian smiled, relieved. He examined the fruits, crackers, and dark chocolate resting on the dish before asking Kris, "So what are we discussing today?"
"Food first." Kris smiled, and Ian could tell the man was a fan of cuisine. He selected a cracker, and Ian picked up a piece of dark chocolate, uncertain his stomach would take it, but having heard how healthy dark chocolate was compared to milk, felt his odds of intestinal uproar were minimal.
"I figure today we'll talk about something that interests you." Kris said after a minute of silent, albeit pleased, crunching. "What is something you don't really talk about, but you find interesting?"
"Oh, wow." Ian began, reaching for an apple slice. "I don't know, that's a hard one. What interests you?"
"No, no." Kris chuckled. "We're here for you. We'll be discussing your interests." He selected another cracker as Ian thought of what interested him.
"Well, I'm not sure if this counts..." Ian said, slow with uncertainty. "But people interest me. Like, all kinds of people, and everything they do, it's all just so interesting to me, I can't learn enough about people."
Kris hummed and selected a grape. "May I ask you to explain further, Ian? What part of 'people' interests you? Culture and society? Behavior and psychology?"
"Doesn't behavior and psychology stem from culture and society?" Ian said smartly, and Kris looked impressed. "I like it all. I think culture's really cool, to learn about, I mean."
"Yes, culture is good fun, especially when you see how many different cultures there are. How is your food, by the way?" Kris looked pleased with his delicious platter and intelligent conversation.
"Great." Ian assured him, picking a few grapes and resisting the urge to toss them into his mouth.
"Good, yes, this is quite the treat." Kris said before continuing. "Anyway, there are quite a few different cultures, many just here in California."
"Oh, yeah, and so many people don't realize it." Ian agreed. "People from other states, they think we're all from Hollywood, they don't know that we have farms, vineyards, and just suburbs like the rest of them."
Kris nodded, and there was a comfortable lull in the conversation as they both snacked on crackers. He swallowed and addressed Ian once more. "Did you know that there's a tribe in Africa that uses clicking in their language?"
Ian nodded. "Did you know there's a sect of Christianity in Venezuela that practices blood sacrifices?"
"I did not." Kris answered, impressed, and took a strawberry from the plate. The small mountain of food was shrinking now. "What about society, Ian, how do you feel about that?"
"Society..." Ian pondered as he nibbled on a slice of dark chocolate, a rare treat for him. "Sometimes, it's pretty- pretty bad. In my opinion."
Kris slowly nodded. "How do you view society?"
"What do you mean?" Ian asked after a moment of confusion.
"There was a president, Mr. Wilson, who firmly believed in viewing society as an organism instead of a crowd: view it as a singular entity. His decisions in office were based off of this thought- he worked for the good of the entity, not just one group or another." Kris explained, showing how scholarly he really was.
Ian considered this carefully. "That seems like a smart way to do it, if you don't care about class or gender or whatever. For me, though, when I work on Smosh, I focus on pleasing our age group, while trying to keep fans who are growing up. But like, in real life, I mean, when I'm just doing normal things, I'd want them all happy."
"Happy, or receiving what's best for them?" Kris asked, after swallowing another grape.
"What's best." Ian answered immediately. "Even if they don't like it. If it all works out in the end, that's what's important."
For a moment, the room was quiet, as Ian examined the globe resting beside the platter on the table, and Kris looked over Ian's shoulder at the wall, lost in thought. He was brought back to Earth when Ian spoke again suddenly.
"I think we forget how many people there are." Ian turned to him, with a look that begged him to understand his words. When Kris only gave him a curious look, he spoke further. "There's almost seven billion of us, all with different cultures, different opinions. And usually we don't even care."
"That's primal." Kris nodded. "It's important to care about yourself, to stay protected. Yourself and the pack, I mean."
"The pack being family and friends, I assume." Kris nodded again, and Ian fell silent for a moment, not sure how to form his next thought. "I'm not standing on a soap box, crying out how we should all love each other and there should be no greed or conflict. It's just interesting to me, that so many people are doing so many things right now. A mom's going grocery shopping. A man's becoming a father. A kid in Italy is sleeping, a guy in New Zealand is hunting. That's insane."
"Does that make you feel small, Ian? Unimportant? It would for most." Kris said wisely.
"Ignorance is bliss for them." Ian sighed, then answered his question. "I remember there was this quote we had to write an essay on in high school, from Gandhi-"
"Whatever you do is insignificant, but it is very important that you do it." Kris recited the quote. It was one of his favorites, so he knew it by heart.
"Yeah. I agree with that. I might be small in the grand scheme of things. But I'm a person, with a life. It's important that I live it. Whether I'm a lazy bum or I'm working on set, life is precious. It's a beautiful experience, good or bad."
Kris nodded, then looked at the time on his watch. "This has been a very scholarly session, Ian."
"Yeah." Ian picked the last grape from the small vine resting on the platter. At this point, most of the food was gone, and each man had a pleasant fullness in his gut. "I could talk about strangers all day."
"As could I." Kris stated, and the two spent several more minutes discussing cultures, so many, all great, from those including apartments to those including tribes, before Ian shook the man's hand and left, thanking him for a wonderful snack that they'd nearly devoured completely.
***
Mailtime was filmed normally, with Ian in pain but pretending to be alright, and Anthony oblivious as usual. He was ill before bed, and stayed up late forcing the chocolate from earlier from his body (although a small quantity of the extremely dark stuff was fine to his temperamental stomach, he chose to be extremely cautious in the future anyway). He finally settled in around one, and woke up early the next day to film.
Filming seemed average on Tuesday- Ian laughed with Anthony, being able to nearly forget his pain, while still really feeling the devastating effects of cancer. But Ian found himself in a cloud, feeling light-headed all day. He felt stiff and numb, and could barely communicate with everyone else. No one noticed, but when Anthony gave him a funny look, Ian made a quick joke about his ADHD and the whole crew laughed.
Overall, Ian was unsettled about how light-headed he'd felt, but pushed forward, only hoping for the best for Wednesday's filming. He received the opposite.
***
It was around two when Ian was waiting for the filming to continue. They had paused a moment, after filming since noon, and Ian was standing next to his couch, barely aware of his surroundings. Anthony, he knew, was near the front door, far away from him, but that was all he knew. He'd never been so light-headed in his life.
When it happened, the crew was just acting as always- casual, but still dependable, a great filming team and a nice group of men. Anthony had just been on the other side of the room, discussing the movements he would be doing in the scene they were about to perform with a camera man, when Ian's world became dark and blurred. Weak and unfeeling, he fell.
A crew member called out to him, and Anthony turned around, and felt as though the world had gone into slow motion. Several men were already moving towards Ian, who was barely visible to him on the ground. Panic flooded him, and he yelled his best friend's name as he ran towards him.
Ian had suddenly found himself at an odd angle, wondering how he had gone from standing straight to lying on the ground. He saw dark blurs and shapes above him, nothing truly registering until he felt large hands, one on his chest, one on his arm, shaking him, the owner of said hands calling out to him. And then he felt very sick.
Anthony, seeing the look on his friend's barely conscious face, yelled over his shoulder to a crew member, hands still on Ian's chest and arm. "Get a bucket!"
But his efforts came too late, and Ian used the little strength he had to turn slightly on his side and vomit. Anthony removed his hands from his friend's body, shock attacking him as he saw the blood and bile fall from Ian's choking mouth. The blood dripped onto the carpet, violently red, and Ian fell on his back once more.
"Okay." Ian could barely hear his friend's shaking voice attempting to take control of the situation. "Okay. You, help me, let's get him to the car."
Anthony stooped over Ian and grabbed him by the arms, while a more burley crew member grabbed his legs. Ian floated in and out of consciousness, only coherent thought being that since he started losing weight from cancer, Anthony could probably carry him on his own. As everything faded away, he only hoped Anthony wouldn't notice.
It had been a struggle getting him into the car, but Ian finally rested in the passenger seat, blood on his chin and soiling his shirt, and Anthony's shaking hand was twisting the keys in the ignition. He, in his panic, had not noticed how light Ian was, thoughts flying and filling his head with random gibberish that he would not dare decipher.
"Okay." Anthony let out a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves as his knuckles turned white from clenching the steering wheel. "Ian? Ian, can you hear me?" Ian was barely there, but managed to open his eyes slightly. He saw rain clouds through the dashboard, heard his terrified friend. "I'm gonna take you to the hospital, okay, Ian? Just stay awake, just focus, please Ian."
Ian drifted in and out of consciousness during their ride to the hospital, so he didn't hear all of it. He didn't hear all of Anthony talking to him, sometimes in a low voice, sometimes whining, sometimes in a scream, but always with an edge of panic in his voice. He didn't hear Anthony begging him to stay awake, to please be okay, please live, please don't vomit blood again, please let things be how they were. Please, Anthony would scream, whisper, cry. Please don't leave me, Ian.
And Ian could barely hear it.
***
He woke up to a blinding white. Dazed and confused, he let the white startle him for several moments longer before finally pushing himself to awaken fully, attempting to quickly sit up, but realizing he was cold and weak, settling back again. Looking around the room as his eyes became adjusted to the bright light, he saw some chairs, a bedside table, and finally his own attire, a thin paper gown, his body covered in white sheets on a hard mattress. He groaned when he remembered what had happened.
He fainted on set, and then woke up just long enough to vomit. Blood, too, all over the floor. And Anthony took him to the hospital. He could only imagine how he was going to explain this. It looked to him as if the act was over.
Doctor Marrow suddenly stepped into the room, and Ian looked into the man's eyes for a moment, seeing them filled with concern, but the pain of it was too much for the good doctor, and he stared at a spot on the wall just behind his patient.
"So your friend told a nurse that you fainted and threw up blood." Panic floored Ian.
"Did you tell him?"
"No." Marrow shook his head, and Ian's body relaxed in his relief. "Doctor-patient confidentiality."
Ian bit his lip. "So I fainted, and threw up blood. How bad is it?"
Marrow shook his head once more. "You're not dying sooner, there's the good news. But the cancer's spreading, just as you saw on your x-ray during your last visit. It's weakening you."
Ian stared at him for a moment, recalling seeing his tumor-spotted x-ray after having his MRI. "I fainted because the cancer just made me weak?" Marrow nodded.
"And I threw up blood because...?" Marrow shifted uncomfortably.
"Did you wake up with a very slight nosebleed? You may have not even noticed it." He pulled a tissue from his pocket and stepped over to the bed, handing it to his patient. Ian blew his nose, and did indeed see red. "That's good news, it means the blood drained back in your sleep, so it's not an ulcer, which we don't want." Ian figured this, too, was a side effect of cancer, and took a breath before asking his next question.
"I still have time?" Marrow nodded once more, eyes away from Ian's at all times.
"You should be fine, given the circumstances. I just want to give you a physical before you leave. If you can follow me, then we'll begin." Relieved, Ian started climbing from the bed, untwisting himself from the stiff sheets, slightly embarrassed at the amount of his body visible in his hospital gown.
Marrow moved quickly to a chair, and lifted some thin cotton sweat pants and a matching button-up shirt, both a sickly cream color. "You may change into your normal attire after the physical." He said, and added with a flinch, "I don't think that blood will be coming out."
Ian nodded, and took a moment to mourn the loss of his Cookie Monster shirt as he changed into the hospital outfit. He then followed Marrow down a white hallway, into a room to take his physical.
***
The physical was fairly quick, only consisting of some stretching exercises, deep breathing, and some time on a bike machine, which Ian found incredibly difficult, but Marrow claimed he was doing excellently for his condition. He soon returned to the room he woke up in, displeased at more white walls, and changed quickly into his original clothing, zipping his jacket to hide the blood stain. His shirt had been ruined, but the blood was barely noticeable on his black jacket, and he could only hope the small stain residing would fade or disappear completely. He stepped out of the room in a rush, wanting to escape the hospital that only reminded him of his impending death, but Marrow halted him.
"Mr. Hecox, I find it usually best to remain out of my patient's affairs, but I'd like you to know that your friend is in the waiting room for you."
Ian stared at him, perplexed, then checked the time on a white clock placed high on the wall behind him. "But it's almost five thirty."
"He was very concerned when he brought you in." Marrow commented, giving Ian an almost knowing glance. "I know you said you didn't want your friend finding out, and that's not my usual area to intervene, but...you can tell him you have low blood pressure."
Ian nodded blankly. Half of him couldn't believe Anthony had been in a waiting room that long, while the other half wasn't surprised at all, knowing how much his friend cared for him. "Thanks."
"I'll even write out a fake prescription for you, just to show him. The meds aren't real, so they'll turn you down at every pharmacy, so I'd just throw the slip away when I got home if I were you." Marrow grimaced, almost an uncomfortable smile, as he wrote the prescription on a pad he'd produced from his pocket, then ripped the page off and handed it to Ian. Ian noticed he'd only seen hard, fake smiles from the doctor thus far, but figured it must've been a bit depressing to spend your days with the dead and dying, white walls aching your head, knocking at your eyes, feeding on your brain.
Ian parted ways with Marrow and took a short walk from the hallway to the hospital's waiting room, where he saw Anthony, almost alone in the waiting room, drowsy in a chair. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and at first Anthony didn't notice his friend emerge from the hallway, but as Ian stepped closer, he fully awakened immediately and sat up fully in his chair, facing his friend with immeasurable amounts of concern on his face.
"Ian, are you okay?" He asked immediately, eyes darting as he examined his friend's entire body. Ian felt an odd mix of emotions; concern for Anthony's own mind, warmth over their friendship, and fear over the lies he would be telling his friend, fear for the life that lay ahead of them.
"Yeah." He answered softer than usual, tired and wanting to be gentle, unsure of his friend's emotional state. He cleared his throat and spoke slightly louder, although still not in his normal tone. "I'm fine."
"What happened?" Anthony's eyes were now searching his face, looking for reassurance that all that he begged for in the ride to the hospital would be given to him.
"I have low blood pressure." Ian said with a weary look. "A doctor gave me a prescription, I just have to take a pill a day, and I'll be pretty much normal. I might be tired sometimes, but I'm healthy."
Ian never saw more worry and more relief clash at once. Anthony smiled, but kept strained, eyeing Ian as is staring would cure his ailing friend, then looked down at his lap, emotions overcoming him. Ian again realized how concerned his friend was for him.
"Dude, when you fainted-" Anthony began as though in attempt to perform a speech, one of love and emotion, but sucked in a breath quickly. He looked back up at Ian, whose face only showed mild concern. "I'm so glad you're okay." Tears sparkled in his red-rimmed eyes. "I can't imagine life without you."
Ian only nodded and took his friend silently to the car, tired but feeling more emotions than he'd ever experienced. He was concerned for his friend, scared for his health, scared someone would figure out his lie, relieved everything was alright, apprehensive of a future he could not stop, and guilty, so guilty, after hearing Anthony's words. "I can't imagine life without you." and here he was, getting ready to leave him, getting ready to die and scare him just as much as he had today, and he did it silently, he still didn't tell his friend he had cancer.
Ian thought back to the hazy drive to the hospital. Anthony was crying, and begging for him to be alright, he knew that much. Anthony was scared and in pain, and he'd feel the same way in just over a month. But he couldn't tell him, he couldn't ruin the last days of his life like that. What Ian had seen that day was something he never wanted to see again. He couldn't bear Anthony's pain.
warnings: sadness and foul language.
rating: pg-13
Ordinary, chapter nineteen
Ian sat patiently in the waiting room, a calm silence surrounding him as he waited for the clock to read three, and Ruby's nasal voice to call him in. He had worked past his experience with Deacon Franklin the day previous, and was now ready to have a normal session with Kris.
At three, Ruby called his name as usual, and he gave her the usual respectful nod as he crossed the waiting room to enter his doctor's office. What he found, however, was out of the ordinary.
"Hello, Ian!" Kris boomed, standing in front of his chair. On the coffee table beside him, an array of food sat on a serving platter, which Ian gave a questioning look before shaking Kris' hand. "You're probably wondering why all this is here." Kris said with a broad smile as they sat down.
"Kind of, yeah. Are you having company?" Ian took a guess.
Kris laughed lightly and shook his head. "I know you've had to start eating healthy since you fell ill, so I decided to get us a nice snack while we talk! I want a nice, relaxed session today."
"Fine by me." Ian smiled, relieved. He examined the fruits, crackers, and dark chocolate resting on the dish before asking Kris, "So what are we discussing today?"
"Food first." Kris smiled, and Ian could tell the man was a fan of cuisine. He selected a cracker, and Ian picked up a piece of dark chocolate, uncertain his stomach would take it, but having heard how healthy dark chocolate was compared to milk, felt his odds of intestinal uproar were minimal.
"I figure today we'll talk about something that interests you." Kris said after a minute of silent, albeit pleased, crunching. "What is something you don't really talk about, but you find interesting?"
"Oh, wow." Ian began, reaching for an apple slice. "I don't know, that's a hard one. What interests you?"
"No, no." Kris chuckled. "We're here for you. We'll be discussing your interests." He selected another cracker as Ian thought of what interested him.
"Well, I'm not sure if this counts..." Ian said, slow with uncertainty. "But people interest me. Like, all kinds of people, and everything they do, it's all just so interesting to me, I can't learn enough about people."
Kris hummed and selected a grape. "May I ask you to explain further, Ian? What part of 'people' interests you? Culture and society? Behavior and psychology?"
"Doesn't behavior and psychology stem from culture and society?" Ian said smartly, and Kris looked impressed. "I like it all. I think culture's really cool, to learn about, I mean."
"Yes, culture is good fun, especially when you see how many different cultures there are. How is your food, by the way?" Kris looked pleased with his delicious platter and intelligent conversation.
"Great." Ian assured him, picking a few grapes and resisting the urge to toss them into his mouth.
"Good, yes, this is quite the treat." Kris said before continuing. "Anyway, there are quite a few different cultures, many just here in California."
"Oh, yeah, and so many people don't realize it." Ian agreed. "People from other states, they think we're all from Hollywood, they don't know that we have farms, vineyards, and just suburbs like the rest of them."
Kris nodded, and there was a comfortable lull in the conversation as they both snacked on crackers. He swallowed and addressed Ian once more. "Did you know that there's a tribe in Africa that uses clicking in their language?"
Ian nodded. "Did you know there's a sect of Christianity in Venezuela that practices blood sacrifices?"
"I did not." Kris answered, impressed, and took a strawberry from the plate. The small mountain of food was shrinking now. "What about society, Ian, how do you feel about that?"
"Society..." Ian pondered as he nibbled on a slice of dark chocolate, a rare treat for him. "Sometimes, it's pretty- pretty bad. In my opinion."
Kris slowly nodded. "How do you view society?"
"What do you mean?" Ian asked after a moment of confusion.
"There was a president, Mr. Wilson, who firmly believed in viewing society as an organism instead of a crowd: view it as a singular entity. His decisions in office were based off of this thought- he worked for the good of the entity, not just one group or another." Kris explained, showing how scholarly he really was.
Ian considered this carefully. "That seems like a smart way to do it, if you don't care about class or gender or whatever. For me, though, when I work on Smosh, I focus on pleasing our age group, while trying to keep fans who are growing up. But like, in real life, I mean, when I'm just doing normal things, I'd want them all happy."
"Happy, or receiving what's best for them?" Kris asked, after swallowing another grape.
"What's best." Ian answered immediately. "Even if they don't like it. If it all works out in the end, that's what's important."
For a moment, the room was quiet, as Ian examined the globe resting beside the platter on the table, and Kris looked over Ian's shoulder at the wall, lost in thought. He was brought back to Earth when Ian spoke again suddenly.
"I think we forget how many people there are." Ian turned to him, with a look that begged him to understand his words. When Kris only gave him a curious look, he spoke further. "There's almost seven billion of us, all with different cultures, different opinions. And usually we don't even care."
"That's primal." Kris nodded. "It's important to care about yourself, to stay protected. Yourself and the pack, I mean."
"The pack being family and friends, I assume." Kris nodded again, and Ian fell silent for a moment, not sure how to form his next thought. "I'm not standing on a soap box, crying out how we should all love each other and there should be no greed or conflict. It's just interesting to me, that so many people are doing so many things right now. A mom's going grocery shopping. A man's becoming a father. A kid in Italy is sleeping, a guy in New Zealand is hunting. That's insane."
"Does that make you feel small, Ian? Unimportant? It would for most." Kris said wisely.
"Ignorance is bliss for them." Ian sighed, then answered his question. "I remember there was this quote we had to write an essay on in high school, from Gandhi-"
"Whatever you do is insignificant, but it is very important that you do it." Kris recited the quote. It was one of his favorites, so he knew it by heart.
"Yeah. I agree with that. I might be small in the grand scheme of things. But I'm a person, with a life. It's important that I live it. Whether I'm a lazy bum or I'm working on set, life is precious. It's a beautiful experience, good or bad."
Kris nodded, then looked at the time on his watch. "This has been a very scholarly session, Ian."
"Yeah." Ian picked the last grape from the small vine resting on the platter. At this point, most of the food was gone, and each man had a pleasant fullness in his gut. "I could talk about strangers all day."
"As could I." Kris stated, and the two spent several more minutes discussing cultures, so many, all great, from those including apartments to those including tribes, before Ian shook the man's hand and left, thanking him for a wonderful snack that they'd nearly devoured completely.
***
Mailtime was filmed normally, with Ian in pain but pretending to be alright, and Anthony oblivious as usual. He was ill before bed, and stayed up late forcing the chocolate from earlier from his body (although a small quantity of the extremely dark stuff was fine to his temperamental stomach, he chose to be extremely cautious in the future anyway). He finally settled in around one, and woke up early the next day to film.
Filming seemed average on Tuesday- Ian laughed with Anthony, being able to nearly forget his pain, while still really feeling the devastating effects of cancer. But Ian found himself in a cloud, feeling light-headed all day. He felt stiff and numb, and could barely communicate with everyone else. No one noticed, but when Anthony gave him a funny look, Ian made a quick joke about his ADHD and the whole crew laughed.
Overall, Ian was unsettled about how light-headed he'd felt, but pushed forward, only hoping for the best for Wednesday's filming. He received the opposite.
***
It was around two when Ian was waiting for the filming to continue. They had paused a moment, after filming since noon, and Ian was standing next to his couch, barely aware of his surroundings. Anthony, he knew, was near the front door, far away from him, but that was all he knew. He'd never been so light-headed in his life.
When it happened, the crew was just acting as always- casual, but still dependable, a great filming team and a nice group of men. Anthony had just been on the other side of the room, discussing the movements he would be doing in the scene they were about to perform with a camera man, when Ian's world became dark and blurred. Weak and unfeeling, he fell.
A crew member called out to him, and Anthony turned around, and felt as though the world had gone into slow motion. Several men were already moving towards Ian, who was barely visible to him on the ground. Panic flooded him, and he yelled his best friend's name as he ran towards him.
Ian had suddenly found himself at an odd angle, wondering how he had gone from standing straight to lying on the ground. He saw dark blurs and shapes above him, nothing truly registering until he felt large hands, one on his chest, one on his arm, shaking him, the owner of said hands calling out to him. And then he felt very sick.
Anthony, seeing the look on his friend's barely conscious face, yelled over his shoulder to a crew member, hands still on Ian's chest and arm. "Get a bucket!"
But his efforts came too late, and Ian used the little strength he had to turn slightly on his side and vomit. Anthony removed his hands from his friend's body, shock attacking him as he saw the blood and bile fall from Ian's choking mouth. The blood dripped onto the carpet, violently red, and Ian fell on his back once more.
"Okay." Ian could barely hear his friend's shaking voice attempting to take control of the situation. "Okay. You, help me, let's get him to the car."
Anthony stooped over Ian and grabbed him by the arms, while a more burley crew member grabbed his legs. Ian floated in and out of consciousness, only coherent thought being that since he started losing weight from cancer, Anthony could probably carry him on his own. As everything faded away, he only hoped Anthony wouldn't notice.
It had been a struggle getting him into the car, but Ian finally rested in the passenger seat, blood on his chin and soiling his shirt, and Anthony's shaking hand was twisting the keys in the ignition. He, in his panic, had not noticed how light Ian was, thoughts flying and filling his head with random gibberish that he would not dare decipher.
"Okay." Anthony let out a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves as his knuckles turned white from clenching the steering wheel. "Ian? Ian, can you hear me?" Ian was barely there, but managed to open his eyes slightly. He saw rain clouds through the dashboard, heard his terrified friend. "I'm gonna take you to the hospital, okay, Ian? Just stay awake, just focus, please Ian."
Ian drifted in and out of consciousness during their ride to the hospital, so he didn't hear all of it. He didn't hear all of Anthony talking to him, sometimes in a low voice, sometimes whining, sometimes in a scream, but always with an edge of panic in his voice. He didn't hear Anthony begging him to stay awake, to please be okay, please live, please don't vomit blood again, please let things be how they were. Please, Anthony would scream, whisper, cry. Please don't leave me, Ian.
And Ian could barely hear it.
***
He woke up to a blinding white. Dazed and confused, he let the white startle him for several moments longer before finally pushing himself to awaken fully, attempting to quickly sit up, but realizing he was cold and weak, settling back again. Looking around the room as his eyes became adjusted to the bright light, he saw some chairs, a bedside table, and finally his own attire, a thin paper gown, his body covered in white sheets on a hard mattress. He groaned when he remembered what had happened.
He fainted on set, and then woke up just long enough to vomit. Blood, too, all over the floor. And Anthony took him to the hospital. He could only imagine how he was going to explain this. It looked to him as if the act was over.
Doctor Marrow suddenly stepped into the room, and Ian looked into the man's eyes for a moment, seeing them filled with concern, but the pain of it was too much for the good doctor, and he stared at a spot on the wall just behind his patient.
"So your friend told a nurse that you fainted and threw up blood." Panic floored Ian.
"Did you tell him?"
"No." Marrow shook his head, and Ian's body relaxed in his relief. "Doctor-patient confidentiality."
Ian bit his lip. "So I fainted, and threw up blood. How bad is it?"
Marrow shook his head once more. "You're not dying sooner, there's the good news. But the cancer's spreading, just as you saw on your x-ray during your last visit. It's weakening you."
Ian stared at him for a moment, recalling seeing his tumor-spotted x-ray after having his MRI. "I fainted because the cancer just made me weak?" Marrow nodded.
"And I threw up blood because...?" Marrow shifted uncomfortably.
"Did you wake up with a very slight nosebleed? You may have not even noticed it." He pulled a tissue from his pocket and stepped over to the bed, handing it to his patient. Ian blew his nose, and did indeed see red. "That's good news, it means the blood drained back in your sleep, so it's not an ulcer, which we don't want." Ian figured this, too, was a side effect of cancer, and took a breath before asking his next question.
"I still have time?" Marrow nodded once more, eyes away from Ian's at all times.
"You should be fine, given the circumstances. I just want to give you a physical before you leave. If you can follow me, then we'll begin." Relieved, Ian started climbing from the bed, untwisting himself from the stiff sheets, slightly embarrassed at the amount of his body visible in his hospital gown.
Marrow moved quickly to a chair, and lifted some thin cotton sweat pants and a matching button-up shirt, both a sickly cream color. "You may change into your normal attire after the physical." He said, and added with a flinch, "I don't think that blood will be coming out."
Ian nodded, and took a moment to mourn the loss of his Cookie Monster shirt as he changed into the hospital outfit. He then followed Marrow down a white hallway, into a room to take his physical.
***
The physical was fairly quick, only consisting of some stretching exercises, deep breathing, and some time on a bike machine, which Ian found incredibly difficult, but Marrow claimed he was doing excellently for his condition. He soon returned to the room he woke up in, displeased at more white walls, and changed quickly into his original clothing, zipping his jacket to hide the blood stain. His shirt had been ruined, but the blood was barely noticeable on his black jacket, and he could only hope the small stain residing would fade or disappear completely. He stepped out of the room in a rush, wanting to escape the hospital that only reminded him of his impending death, but Marrow halted him.
"Mr. Hecox, I find it usually best to remain out of my patient's affairs, but I'd like you to know that your friend is in the waiting room for you."
Ian stared at him, perplexed, then checked the time on a white clock placed high on the wall behind him. "But it's almost five thirty."
"He was very concerned when he brought you in." Marrow commented, giving Ian an almost knowing glance. "I know you said you didn't want your friend finding out, and that's not my usual area to intervene, but...you can tell him you have low blood pressure."
Ian nodded blankly. Half of him couldn't believe Anthony had been in a waiting room that long, while the other half wasn't surprised at all, knowing how much his friend cared for him. "Thanks."
"I'll even write out a fake prescription for you, just to show him. The meds aren't real, so they'll turn you down at every pharmacy, so I'd just throw the slip away when I got home if I were you." Marrow grimaced, almost an uncomfortable smile, as he wrote the prescription on a pad he'd produced from his pocket, then ripped the page off and handed it to Ian. Ian noticed he'd only seen hard, fake smiles from the doctor thus far, but figured it must've been a bit depressing to spend your days with the dead and dying, white walls aching your head, knocking at your eyes, feeding on your brain.
Ian parted ways with Marrow and took a short walk from the hallway to the hospital's waiting room, where he saw Anthony, almost alone in the waiting room, drowsy in a chair. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and at first Anthony didn't notice his friend emerge from the hallway, but as Ian stepped closer, he fully awakened immediately and sat up fully in his chair, facing his friend with immeasurable amounts of concern on his face.
"Ian, are you okay?" He asked immediately, eyes darting as he examined his friend's entire body. Ian felt an odd mix of emotions; concern for Anthony's own mind, warmth over their friendship, and fear over the lies he would be telling his friend, fear for the life that lay ahead of them.
"Yeah." He answered softer than usual, tired and wanting to be gentle, unsure of his friend's emotional state. He cleared his throat and spoke slightly louder, although still not in his normal tone. "I'm fine."
"What happened?" Anthony's eyes were now searching his face, looking for reassurance that all that he begged for in the ride to the hospital would be given to him.
"I have low blood pressure." Ian said with a weary look. "A doctor gave me a prescription, I just have to take a pill a day, and I'll be pretty much normal. I might be tired sometimes, but I'm healthy."
Ian never saw more worry and more relief clash at once. Anthony smiled, but kept strained, eyeing Ian as is staring would cure his ailing friend, then looked down at his lap, emotions overcoming him. Ian again realized how concerned his friend was for him.
"Dude, when you fainted-" Anthony began as though in attempt to perform a speech, one of love and emotion, but sucked in a breath quickly. He looked back up at Ian, whose face only showed mild concern. "I'm so glad you're okay." Tears sparkled in his red-rimmed eyes. "I can't imagine life without you."
Ian only nodded and took his friend silently to the car, tired but feeling more emotions than he'd ever experienced. He was concerned for his friend, scared for his health, scared someone would figure out his lie, relieved everything was alright, apprehensive of a future he could not stop, and guilty, so guilty, after hearing Anthony's words. "I can't imagine life without you." and here he was, getting ready to leave him, getting ready to die and scare him just as much as he had today, and he did it silently, he still didn't tell his friend he had cancer.
Ian thought back to the hazy drive to the hospital. Anthony was crying, and begging for him to be alright, he knew that much. Anthony was scared and in pain, and he'd feel the same way in just over a month. But he couldn't tell him, he couldn't ruin the last days of his life like that. What Ian had seen that day was something he never wanted to see again. He couldn't bear Anthony's pain.