Thomas Brodie-Sangster Imagines

Part 7

Y/N P.O.V.

"Oh my God. You're still holding that against me? Ha! You're the coward that left me, anyway. That isn't even my fault!" he screamed. His eyes seemed to be lit on fire. His words shocked me. This was NOT my Donald. And I finally lost my hold on things. My heart broke. This pain hurt me more than anything. My Donald was gone, obviously. And this boy that replaced him....he was so hurt. My brain kept chewing on the possibility that my Donald was still fighting. Maybe, just maybe, my Donald was trying to push through and hold his hand out to me.

How am I going to deal with this?

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"What is wrong with you?" I asked. At this point, I dropped my façade. I was way to broken to be anything but raw, at the moment. On the upside, I was able to be honest. And I wasn't mad. I was....there. Able to listen. Able to think.

I hoped and prayed that this mindset would stick throughout the next couple moments.

"Excuse me?" the pale boy asked. Finally, he was starting to calm down.

"What is wrong with you? Where is my baby? What can I do to fix you?" My body started to relax as I let myself let go. Tears started to gather in my eyes, but there was no knot in my throat. I looked desperately at Donald, waiting for something. A familiar expression settled on his face. His brows furrowed-or brow muscles furrowed-and his face hardened. This was the expression that I got when Don was thinking hard, not letting me read his expression.

Although his mind was racing, he was still attentive. I decided to try to elaborate-try to get to him in any way that I could. I took a deep breath in, trying to sift through the millions of thoughts in my tired brain. Bringing my freezing fingers up to my cheeks, I wiped away my salty tears.

"Listen. As you said, we both know that we do not have full lives ahead of us. We only have so much time. I want to be happy, Donnie. I want you to be happy. More than anything, I want us to be young and stupid. I want us to live our lives as if there is no tomorrow. Cause, let's be honest. We only have so many tomorrows," I continued. I shrugged, slapping my arms against my sides. For a second, the boys stance changed. I was getting to him.

"I know that neither of us want to waste time wallowing in our disease. That's like, the number one dying kid's no-no. Remember? You said back when we were younger that I had to help you stay young and dumb. Well, here I am. And I'm not leaving this time. I won't ever leave you again. I-I can't tell you how many times I have thought about that day, my love. If there is one thing in my life that I regret, it's walking out of that bloody hospital. I should have pushed through that shit. I should have ignored you and-and gotten into that stupid bed. We both know that that is what should have happened. I am so sorry for pissing you off. I have no idea what in the hell I did to annoy you to that level, but I shouldn't have-"

"Stop" The word was desperate and warm. It lingered in the air, filling up the room. It has worked. This truth had gotten to the boy I loved.

"You don't get to say that. None of what happened was your fault. That-That first bit-you couldn't be more right. I'm sorry I said all of those things, baby. I-I just-I'm so scared. I'm so incredibly scared. I haven't been able to say any of this out loud, yet-or been able to admit it to anyone. I-I need you. You will make all of this so much easier. You do make all of this so much easier. When you were in my life, I always had something to be happy about. I always had something to be thankful for. You-You're just...perfect, I guess. I need you. And-and-and I hate myself for saying those things. I don't know why I pushed you out. I tried running after you, actually. I passed out, though. Fucking chemo. All I know is that I fucked up. A lot. I fucked up and now I want to make it better," he said. He was thinking through his words so carefully.