I was playing a video game with Kyle and Molly. Darla was playing on her phone. I was trying to focus on the video game and act like I didn't know that Mark was starring at me. He didn't look happy or sad more like both. When the level ended I pretended to glance at him for the first time. I let myself blush and smile.
"What?" I asked.
"Just thinking." Mark replied.
"About what?"
"I can't tell you at the moment."
"Why not?"
"Because." I was getting worried.
"Mark. What's wrong?"
"I'll tell you when I figure out how." I stood up and eagerly dragged Mark upstairs. I was worried, the look in his eyes told me that something was wrong. I had to find out what. I had to help him. Something inside me told me that he was that boy that was my childhood best friend in one of my past lives. The boy that I've known and loved since before I could remember. I had to save that boy.
I pulled him into a walk-in closet that was snugly tucked in the safe walls of our cozy hallway. I looked up into his eyes.
"Tell me." I calmly and quietly pleaded.
"I can't." He said. Tears were filling up in his eyes.
"You can trust me. We have only been dating for a day, but I feel like I've known you forever. I would never break whatever bond we may have had in another carnation."
"It's not that. I do trust you and I feel that way too. I just don't know how to tell you."
"I find it helps to just say it." There was a long silent pause. The whole time I was panicking in my head.
"I have cancer. A couple days ago the doctors said that I would only live two weeks. If I'm lucky a month." I didn't know how to except that. I hugged him. I tried not to cry. I tried so hard. One tear escaped though. It traveled from my left eye and down my cheek. When it curved onto my chin, it fell. It fell all the way down to the floor and landed on Mark's black leather shoes, with small and quite, but audible plop. Mark peeled me off of him and looked at my face. He wiped the stream the tear left behind, off of my face. He was crying a lot more than I was. That was ok.
"I'll stick with you." I whispered.
"No. Go live your life." He whispered back.
"I will be living my life. I'll just be living it with you." He didn't respond to that. Instead he just pulled me back to him. I was pressed against his warm squishy chest. He rested his chin on my head. I didn't care that we were in a closet. I knew that we would have to get out sometime anyway.
Eventually when everything died down, we exited the closet. When I walked down stairs I saw that all my friends were passed out on the couch. I took Mark back to my room and made the bed for him. He and I talked while I filled up my air mattress.
My bed was finally ready and I was exhausted. Mark had already fell asleep. I couldn't sleep though. No matter how tiered I got no matter how late I was up, I could not sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about what Mark told me. He only had a little less than two weeks to live.
I stood up and walked to the other side of the room were Mark was sleeping. I rubbed his cheek with my thumb. Then I rubbed his head. When I did this, I found out that he was actually wearing a wig. He went threw keimo therapy and probably still was going threw it. I felt so bad for him. I placed my hand on his shoulder and kissed him on the fore head. I guess that woke him up, because he grabbed my hand. I looked into his eyes. They were full of pain and hurt.
"It hurts.," he cried "It hurts so much. And I can't comb my hair anymore. Or style it, or gel it, or look handsome anymore. The worst part is that I still try to wash my hair in the shower. I still have a bottle of shampoo that I use every time. Then I touch my head and remember that I'm in pain because I'm sick."
"You're still so beautiful. And if I could somehow help you I would. Even if it costs my sight or my kidneys or even my life. I would do it. If you need to I'll let you wash my hair. I'll let you do my hair. Anything." I responded.
"Just stay by my side?"
"Always." He sat up and kissed me. This time it wasn't awkward or scary. It was nice.
Since Mark couldn't sleep either, we stayed up and talked a little bit. I found out that Mark has had cancer for two years. He was tested for it a week before his birthday and the results came back positive the day before his birthday. I told him a little bit about my "illness" (he didn't actually have it) and he learned some stuff. All a while Mark was braiding my hair.
Eventually I slowly drifted off into a deep sleep, in Mark's warm and safe lap.
When I woke up, Mark had his arm on top of me, and was sleeping against a wall. I got up and sat next to him. When I rested my head on his shoulder, I realized that he wasn't asleep. I let him pretend to be resting peacefully for a while.
"I sincerely hope you're aware that I know you're awake." I said.
"Dang it. How did you know?" Mark laughed.
"Your breathing. People breath more evenly and less stressfully when they're asleep."
"So on your free time you study people's breathing patterns?"
"No. I don't sleep well at night and Kyle and Molly sleep here often." Mark laughed. I don't know what was so funny and I probably never will, but something was able to make a man who barley has any life ahead of him, laugh. That was the only part that mattered to me. He was in pain, he didn't feel like he was actually living, and worst of all he thought he was hurting the lives of the people he loved, but there he was laughing his behind off. That was the definition of inspiration.