SATELLITE HEART [A BARLEY LIGHTFOOT x READER STORY]

chapter 21

"And I find myself really unable to think about how I'm about to be a dad again right now at this moment. The universe either picked really bad timing or really good timing for this new guy to join the family. I can't decide if it's good or bad." Ian flipped the page of the journal, swallowing hard as he kept on reading, "I'm choosing to believe that it's good. The universe wasn't considering whether or not I could help my wife while I'm sick. The universe was giving me another branch to grab onto, another thing to focus on. To get better for. And I'm going to get better for my new little boy, Ian. W.L.." 

Ian was choking up as he shut the journal and dropped it on his lap. He looked out the window for a long moment; staring at the streaks of orange across the sky. It was almost sunset now. You'd been driving for hours and you were almost there already. You hated how far away you were...

"Jeez, when did our lives get so depressing?" Ian asked, sniffling while he laughed. 

You laughed with him. "I know, right?"

"It sucks." He wiped his eyes with his fingers. "How far are we?" 

"We'll be there within the next hour," you said. The roads were getting thinner and curvier on the cliff of the mountain. Your stomach was starting to hurt with nausea with all of the hills and you hoped and prayed that Guinevere could fit on the roads without skimming the side of the van against a tree. "Probably when it's dark, we'll get there."

"Figures," Ian said. He watched you carefully. "Are you worried?" 

"About what?" 

"About him," he said. 

"I always am," you sighed. Your hands clenched around the steering wheel. "You really think he's sicker than he's letting on?" 

"I think Barley is really good at pretending that he isn't feeling like absolute crap when we're around. Especially you. I just think he doesn't want you to get it in your head that you've got a dying boyfriend or something. I don't know... he just mentioned something to me last weekend. You were sleeping on the couch and he was --- he was getting really sick again alone in the bathroom. I told him to let me in and he wouldn't, so I figured he wanted you. And I told him I was going to get you and he freaked out. He didn't want you to see..."

"See what?" you asked. 

"That he wasn't eating anything because he wasn't hungry, but he was vomiting. But he physically can't hold food anymore." Ian couldn't look at you anymore.

You weren't an idiot. You knew what that meant. 

"Ian," you said. "Do you think he really has an eighty percent chance of survival?"

"I think... that he used to," he said. "But I also think that only my mom and he know that... that what he has is more aggressive than even what Dad had." 

You wanted to slam on the brakes. You wanted to get out and scream. You wanted to cry and pull your hair out. How could the world be so unfair that Barley is the one going through this? What kind of universe is this that could threaten to tear him away from everything and everyone he loves? He deserved so much more---

You wanted to stop driving and just break down and cry. But the thought of Barley alone at the hospital, dying without you...

You pressed your foot a little harder on the gas. Guinevere lurched forward with a sputter and chugged her way up the mountain a little faster. 

"We're getting that emerald," you said. "I'm not leaving that place until we've got a way to make Barley better."

"I really think we are gonna find it. I mean, I know that Barley is usually the optimist, but..." Ian smiled and dug into his pocket to pull out the tiny spiral bound notebook he kept. He clicked a pen with his thumb a couple of times before he started to write. "Without him here, I guess that role falls on me."

"Hey, I can be optimistic," you argued.

"Uh... yeah, maybe," he muttered.

"Hey!" You smiled. "What's that you're writing?"

"Oh, I'm writing a list on how to be optimistic," he said.

You raised your eyebrows. "That's very optimistic of you."

"Thanks," he said. "But don't give me that attitude, okay, man? I'm trying here!"

"I appreciate you trying," you said.

"You're welcome." He wrote something down. "I just wrote Don't listen to ___, because she will try to ruin your streak of optimism."

"You suck!" you laughed. You turned a rounded corner and sat up a little higher in your seat. "Oh my gosh! That's it. Right?"

"Yup," Ian said. He tucked the notebook and pen away and grabbed his backpack. You parked in a grassy field and grabbed Barley's Quest of Yore book.

The two of you exited Guinevere and walked the few feet that brought you to the creek. Ian flipped open his notebook again, reading the notes he had taken on the area.

"In order to open the secret land that'll lead to the treasure of life, you must first find the weakened end."

"What does that mean? The end of the forest?" You crossed your arms.

"No, I was thinking the edge of the creek. You know, 'cause the bank of it is soft and muddy."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "But what are we looking for?"

"No idea," he said. "But we can find it!"

"Great optimism, Ian," you said.

You started to the left. Ian took the right. The two of you walked alongside the creek slowly, prodding the edge of the creek with the toe of your shoe. Again and again, inch by inch, until your shoulder bumped Ian's and the sun was completely down and nothing had happened.

"Now what?"

"Okay, so that wasn't it," Ian said nervously. "But there's gotta be another way! It just isn't an obvious path. Uh..."

He started to pace and talk to himself. You sighed and pulled your hair up in a ponytail. You kicked your shoes and socks off and rolled up the legs of your pants before you stepped into the creek. You bent forward, hands out, letting your feet and palms and fingers skim the muddy bottom of the creek, searching for an emerald, a map, something.

Nothing happened. You found nothing but pebbles and sticks. The hour went on. The water grew cold.

"Is there anything in the water?!"

"Nothing but mud," you said, annoyed and frustrated. Time felt like it was literally ticking away and Barley's life was going with it. "What about you, optimist? Find anything?"

"Not exactly," he said nervously. "I'm trying to think like Barley here..."

You groaned. The frigid water was biting into your skin now. You clenched your hands into fists and stomped up onto the bank. "I should've known it wasn't going to be easy! I shouldn't have left him."

"Dude, i-it's okay!" Ian cried. "I can do this! We can do this! We just got here!"

"He barely has time," you whispered. "And I'm wasting my moments that I could be with him here--- oh, I can't---" You turned and dropped down, sitting on the muddy bank---

And as you sat on the bank, you felt the ground shake. You shot up on your feet and gasped as the creek opened up. Literally opened up, water draining, ground splitting. Ian was behind you, hooking his arm around yours and yanking you up next to him.

Finally the moving stopped, and you and Ian were staring at a frighteningly dim cave-like opening with a flight of stone stairs leading directly into pitch black darkness.