AN:ok major trigger warning for cancer here.
I do not own or profit from The Walking Dead
Who the fuck ever decided that it had to be lazyboy chairs? That's what Daryl wanted to know.
Daryl slunk down in his chair, staring around the room. He hated every second of the treatments. He wanted to be in a room, by himself, staring at a blank wall, get this over and done with and be out the door.
Instead, it was the lazyboys, in a circle, and the brightly flowered walls, and the crappy paintings and staring at all the hollow faces in those lazyboys. He'd asked the nurse once why they did it this way, she had looked at him like he had two heads and told him it was to make the environment more cheerful. God forbid you get fucking depressed when you have cancer.
At least there were no kids, he wasn't sure he could handle that. It was enough that he was so fucking uncomfortable in this living room from hell he didn't need to see no kids going through this, or see them start to fade.
He was lucky they told him. He started having bitch of headaches, finally after Merle's incessant nagging he'd gone to the doctor. He'd been shocked when they told him he had a small tumour that had to come out. They had gone in through his nose to get it out. Merle had fainted in the doctors office when the surgery had been explained to Daryl. Then the mother fucking tumor ended up being cancerous.
So it was on to twelve weeks of chemo and then five weeks of radiation. He was on week four of chemo, in the living room from hell.
He didn't want to get to know the other people sitting in the chairs. Hell they didn't seem to want to know him either. There was an empty chair next to him today. He knew what that meant, but he wouldn't let himself think it.
The nurse was messing with his port trying to access it, he absolutely refused to take his shirt off when the nurse had given him a Johnny shirt to put on backwards so they could access the port he had put in two weeks ago, she was struggling to access it above his heart with just his button up shirt undone. "watch it, I still got stitches" he hissed when she finally accessed the site.
He watched the door open suddenly. The nurse went over to greet the new arrival. Great, a newbie, he thought and in the seat next to mine.
She was with a woman with blond hair and a little girl about ten years old. Lesbian? He briefly wondered, but then shook his head no. She didn't give off that vibe despite her short hair. She got down on her knees, to talk to the little girl. The smile on her face when she looked at her kid blew him away. When she smiled like that she was the most beautiful women he had ever seen. She tenderly brushed the little girls hair behind her ears, all the while talking to her and smiling that smile.
The little flung herself at her momma and hugged her, then. He saw the way her eyes clamped shut tightly and she threaded her fingers through her girls hair. It was like she was memorizing the moment. Like every hug from her girl was precious, something to be treasured.
The blonde gently pulled the girl back with a smile and lead her out of the room. The nurse showed her to a change room. The woman turned for a moment glancing at the room, that's when he saw her eyes. Those eyes were like fucking oceans, or the sky when he was in the forest on a sunny day.
She caught his eye for a moment and then blushed. Glancing down at the floor biting her lip. Fuck me he thought that was sexy as fuck. He should not be thinking this way, not here not now. Definetly not in the middle of chemo.