A/N: Hi guys XD this is my new story: The Bucket List. It's Wes centric with some Klaine and Weschel and is about Wes' battle with cancer. This isn't going to be majorly agnsty as it will mainly revolve around Wes completing a list of 50 things to do before you die as opposed to the actual cancer side of things.
I know cancer is a serious issue (believe me, I do: my grandmother passed away from it two years ago and now my grandfather has it) and I really hope that you guys approve of the way in which I handle it.
Thanks :) Happy Reading
x Poppy
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from GLEE
Wes was having a shit day.
It had all started literally when he fell out of the wrong side of the bed.
Well, not literally, obviously as his bed was facing the wall, but he would have if he could've. As a matter of fact he smashed his nose against the wall as he jumped in fright at his rude awakening…
"Wes!" David was calling. "You've gotta wake up, man! Breakfast is over in ten minutes!"
"What the hell?" Wes cried, jolting out of bed, whacking his nose. "Argh!" he yelled, cradling his nose in pain. At least it wasn't bleeding… "My alarm…"
"You must have forgotten to set it," David said, chucking him his school shirt as Wes pulled his t-shirt over his head.
"I didn't," Wes said, buttoning his shirt neatly. "I distinctively remember setting it last night, because I was going to bed early…" he stifled a yawn as he reached for his tie on the dresser. He had been tireder than usual lately. His mother said he was stretching himself too thin. He was managing his end of semester exams (and with the education level at Dalton, expectations were high), junior prefect duties, Warbler rehearsals as they came up to Sectionals (he was head of the Warbler council; a job he took very seriously) and soccer practices as they came up to their local championship.
"You never sleep through your alarms," David frowned as Wes disappeared into the bathroom.
"I know," Wes sighed frustratedly, slipping into his grey slacks, pulling on a pair of black socks. He wet a comb and ran it through his hair quickly. "I must have been sleeping deeper than I thought…"
"You must have been tired," David mused as Wes re-entered the room. He handed him his bag which David had already packed full of his books.
"Thanks," Wes said gratefully, slipping into his shoes. "Dammit, we've missed breakfast," he said frustratedly, checking his watch. He grabbed his blazer from it's position hanging over the chair, attempting to ignore the growling in the pit of his stomach.
His first class was Ancient History. He liked the subject, and he was very interested in the topics that they discussed, but he loathed the teacher Mr Lachlan who gave students detention if they arrived a second after the second bell.
Which was exactly what happened to Wes.
"Ah, Mr Richards…" Mr Lachlan smirked as Wes jogged into the classroom, slightly out of breath, just after the second bell. "You're tardiness is unappreciated here, boy. Let's not make a habit of it shall we?"
"No, sir," Wes said, slipping into a seat beside his other best friend Blaine.
"Well just as a reminder, I'll have you in my office at lunch, thanks," Mr Lachlan said. Wes groaned internally.
"Yes, sir," he said unhappily.
"Are you alright?" Blaine muttered as Mr Lachlan launched into the lesson.
"Perfect," Wes spat. "Sorry," he muttered as Blaine flinched.
"It's fine," Blaine whispered. "Mr Lachlan's a jerk."
As Wes flipped his notebook open and began to take notes Blaine captured his attention once more.
"Listen, Wes," he said in the same careful tone that he only used when he wanted something.
"Yes…" Wes said warily.
"About Kurt…"
Of course. It was no secret that Blaine was enamoured with the countertenor Kurt Hummel who had transferred to Dalton mysteriously after spying (endearingly) on the Warblers about a month ago. Wes knew that the boy had been having some problems at his old school and Blaine had attempted to help him. He also knew that Blaine was falling for the boy. Well, if the way he played Teenage Dream on infinite loop and had a new affinity for the color blue, was any indication.
When Kurt transferred Blaine hadn't stopped skipping around for the first couple of days and kept going on about Kurt until Wes finally invited him to the Warblers. Wes had indeed been pleasantly surprised with Kurt's talent, but was a little wary of his… style. It wasn't what the Warblers usually did.
So when he had auditioned for a solo for Sectionals with Don't Cry For Me Argentina, a song that Wes knew that most of the boys in the Warblers had never even heard of, Wes had to say no. He knew that Kurt had probably been hurt, but he had to learn to be one of them, that's all.
"What about Kurt?" Wes asked tiredly.
"I think you might have been a little hard on him," Blaine said gently, "I mean… his solo was amazing… maybe if we could sing a duet, I could-"
"Blaine," Wes said harshly. "We are not using Sectionals as a ploy to get you and Kurt together. I actually care about winning-"
"So do I,' Blaine muttered.
"-and I'm not going to let us lose focus." Wes closed his eyes, a headache beginning to form in his mind. He sighed in frustration as his stomach rumbled with hunger once more.
"Okay," Blaine said quietly. "I'm sorry…"
Wes sighed once more, now frustrated with himself for having upset Blaine.
The rest of the day droned on. He was grateful when it came to lunch. He sat with David and Blaine (and Kurt joined them of course) and ate about three servings of the vegetarian lasagne.
He had passed off his headache (which had gotten progressively worse throughout the day, now leaving him with an ongoing feeling of dizziness) as lack of food, but once he had eaten he found that it hadn't dulled any.
In his afternoon classes Wes could hardly concentrate and he could feel himself struggling through Warbler rehearsal. He eneded up blowing off soccer practice and heading up to his room where he crashed immediately.
Over the next week Wes wasn't feeling any better. His friends were rather worried about him and encouraged him to see the nurse, but he insisted that he had to carry on, at least until after Sectionals.
On the day of Sectionals Wes was feeling worse than ever.
"Are you sure you're going to be alright to compete?" David asked him anxiously as they were piling onto the bus.
"I'll be fine," Wes muttered. He had lost count of how many times he had said that the past week.
Wes ended up sleeping on the bus ride over. When he woke up David was reading a book beside him and across the aisle Kurt was laughing animatedly at something Blaine was saying. Blaine was gazing at him as if he was the most beautiful thing in the world. They were both so painfully oblivious to each other's feelings it was almost comical.
Soon enough they pulled up to the venue and their assigned teacher signed them all in. They then retreated to the green room to warm up.
As they went onstage Wes felt a lovely combination of sick and nervous. By some miracle he had managed to get through it. Blaine was magic as usual, and Nick and Jeff's duet was fantastic. Wes was very proud of his Warblers, and only a little disappointed when they tied.
Hey, at least they were going onto Regionals.
After they finished up, they headed back to the bus. Wes was grateful for the trip as it would supply him with another chance to sleep and rest his splitting headache which would not go away…
"Hey, man," David greeted him cheerily, clapping him on the back. Wes swayed on his feet a little bit, his dizziness suddenly feeling overwhelming. "Hey, are you alr-"
And everything went black.
When Wes woke up his surroundings were unfamiliar. Firstly, unlike his bedroom back atDalton; everything was white. Wes liked the colour white. It was perfect, clear and sure. Always the same. It wasn't spontaneous and it dind't come in different shades.
Like his life.
Wes had his everyday planned out to the minute. He didn't like surprises and he did not like bend in the roads…
"Where am I?" Wes said groggily to nobody in particular. It was sort of hard to talk. He rubbed his eyes and found his friends Blaine, David and Kurt towering over him all wearing matching expressions of distress. "What's going on?" Wes asked frantically.
"Wes…" David's voice was broken and so devoid of it's usual good humour that Wes's chest ached. He didn't want to know what he was going to say next. He knew it wouldn't be good news. "There's really no easy way to tell you this but… you've got cancer."