I'm fine. |stiles stilinski•

Part 7

I wake up even more exhausted than yesterday, which was when I actually had a chemo session. My Dad had to carry me downstairs this morning because I literally couldn't manage it. I asked him to sit me in my chair so I could 'easily'- or at least more quickly- move around whilst he's at work.

"You sure you'll be okay while I'm gone?" He asks, checking and rechecking my temperature with his hand. I bat his arm away.

"Dad, I'll be fine. Stop worrying." I tell him, and he sighs but leaves for work.

When 10:00am finally rolls around, Isaac doesn't show up. I watch out the window for a bit, but then start getting sleepy; I'm trying desperately to stay awake so I don't miss the door knocking.

10:30- Still no Isaac. I text him.

"Dude where are you? -S"

"I'll be here soon." He replies back.

And ten minutes later I hear his fist knock at the door. I take a deep breath, and muster all the strength I have to push myself towards the front door. I've managed to master the art of wheelchairing and don't struggle with the door handle and easily move back for it to open. Quickly, I take off my beanie and lob it into the other room, before Isaac looks down and sees me.

He just stands there: shocked, worried, sad? His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open.

I wheel backwards a bit.
"Hey, come in." I speak awkwardly, leading him into the front room.

"Sorry, could you just shut the door, I can't do-"

"Yeah, I got it." He interrupts me softly, shutting the door.

I motion for him to sit down.

He looks lost for words.

"You can ask, you know. Please." I say, looking into his nervous eyes.

"W-what happened?" He asks.

"I wasn't sleeping, or eating, I had a high temperature and we weren't sure what was wrong with me. So dad took me to the hospital, and... Uh, It was cancer." I say, sighing heavily. His eyes droop down sadly.

"What?" He asks in disbelief.

"Yeah. I started chemo a few weeks ago... I only lost my hair the other day, so... That's kinda weird. Sorry, could you just pass me that hat on the couch?" I ask, pointing to my beanie strewn across a cushion.

"Yeah, yeah." He whispers. His hand is on his open mouth and his eyes look moist and tearful. He passes me the beanie gently. I place it on my head, which automatically makes Isaac look more comfortable; as if he's talking to a normal person- not just some dying kid.

"The chair is just because my Dad's at work, Scott's at school, Derek's out with Cora. I only use it sometimes, only when I'm having a bad day." I tell him slowly. The room is silent.

"I'm so, so sorry." He whispers, quickly wiping a tear from his eye.

"Do you need anything?" He asks, looking around the room at the collection of medical equipment.

"Uh, would you be able to help me onto to the couch?" I ask him. "I mean, I can probably do it, just need a little support." I say, slowly standing up on my weak, wobbly legs.

He rushes towards me and guides my thin body onto the couch, sitting down with me.

"Thanks." I say quietly.

"So... Are you scared?" Isaac asks me after a long pause of silence. I think about my answer for a moment, deciding on what to say.

"Terrified." I whisper back, looking into his eyes, which now have tears freely streaming out of them. He tries to wipe them away but gives up when they don't stop falling.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asks, biting his nails.

"I- I couldn't do it over the phone. You already had so much on your plate with Allison's death and you were in France and..."

"Stiles, you could've told me. I wouldn't have been 'too busy'." He tells me, his expression pityful.

"I'm sorry. I know." I say.