Idea by @mere_inkslinger

A touching moment between a boy/girl but it's the first time they've met.

minipage

CancerKidsMeet.com has been elected the world's best intended idea by hundreds of spiteful kids everywhere.

At it's peak, it boasted a membership of 4,301 kids ages basic literacy to out of the peds ward.

I was one of them, as forced by my mother who figure I could "dedicate half an hour of my time to forming meanful connects if I could spend five hours a night on my laptop."

I agreed and despite my negative attitude, found my little Internet niche amongst a group of lukemites.

We had literally titled our group chat: Lukemites.

Because lukemia was the only reason we had any reason to meet.

Forgoing everything we learned about internet safety, we admitted our real names, ages, stages, and most importantly, hospitals.

There was Jamie, 16, Stage 4, at Boston Children's. 

There was Nick, 15 and a half, Stage 3, at LA General.

There was Mia, 17, remission, at Presbyterian in Albuquerque.

And me. David, 16, Stage 4, at Milwaukee Central.

But my Stage 4 looked more like Stage 5.

Mia stayed on CancerKidsMeet.com, simply because we were her closest friends.

There were very few secrets between us.

The one I kept to myself was the fact that I was in love with Mia, without ever meeting her in person.

That changed when I sent a message to the Lukemites from my uncomfortable bed in the Pediatric Ward at Milwaukee Central, declaring my final moments on this earth.

They started freaking out, my phone buzzing faster than my heart monitor raced.

A few hours later, the opposite occured. My phone was silent and my heart couldn't keep up.

My family and friends IRL crowded in my room, crying as I watched the little notification light on my phone, praying for some sign of life from those virtual friends that had kept me alive for the past three years. 

But there was nothing.

It was two in the morning when the nurses sent all non-essentials away.

They said "they understood our situations" but their presence would "only stress me further."

What was more stressful than death?

But I waited out.

I needed to hear from the Lukemites before I gave up.

My mother sat beside me, holding my hand, telling me everything was going to be okay.

It wasn't.

My dad stood at the foot of my bed. I was ever-aware of his mournful eyes on me.

The thought occured to me that if we were more embracing of death as a society, our lives would be so much happier.

But instead, death was seen as a permanent end, rather than a transition from one adventure to another, thus a need to say long, painful goodbyes.

If death meant ending my parents suffering, I was almost ready to let go.

It was nearly four in the morning when two wheelchairs burst through my door, followed by the beautiful Mia who's face was even more radiant in person, versus crap webcams.

My parents started freaking out before they realized how elated I was to see Jamie, Nick, and the oh-so-beautiful Mia.

"Surprise!" Jamie said, spinning in a circle in her wheelchair.

I quickly introduced everyone.

I could barely breath.

This was all I wanted. This was an okay way to go.

But now that they were here, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to give up. Mia, so strong and valiant, had been able to fight it all off. I had to do that as well.

I had to fight. 

I had to keep my life and my light, if only for her.

With my mother holding one of my hands and Mia holding the other, Jamie and Nick spent the rest of the morning talking my ear off, with Mia interjecting occassionally.

My parents agreed to go get breakfast for us all.

The doctor came to check on me and was thoroughly surprised to find me alive and with friends.

So he quickly left, with little to no check up on me.

I was going to die.

There was no way around it anymore.

It got to the point where I couldn't breathe anymore.

Nick wanted to get a nurse but I stopped him.

"Dude, there's no way around it anymore," I gasped.

Mia was silent.

Jamie cut in.

"You're right," she said. "You don't need doctors poking and prodding right now."

"Lock the door," I begged.

"Your parents---" Mia started.

"No," I said. "I've said my goodbyes."

I could tell she wanted to protest further.

A few minutes later, I was on my final decline.

No one was banging on the door, demanding to be let in.

My eyes were fluttering shut.

I could feel my heart beating but it was too slow. 

I was panicking but my body wasn't responding.

I looked over at Mia, who was very close to death just a couple of months ago. But there was no miracle drug to save me today.

Mia, Nick, and Jamie continued talking for awhile.

I was almost certain that I could hear the monitors flatline and Mia's sobs.