(FrostedCupcake512) FC: Would you like to come over soon?
(MotorcycleMan23) MM: I can't. Sorry, I have stuff to do. Dying and all.
[FC has logged off]
Endless days went by like this. Arthur asked if Ludwig could come over and he came up with some smartass response like this then he logged back off to bake his troubles away. Lutz has been fighting cancer for almost 2 years and slowly fading. But they perservered through it all, talked everyday in short conversations that usually went like this.
(FrostedCupcake512) FC: How was your day dear?
(MotorcycleMan23) MM: Painful, another effect of dying.
[FC has logged off]
Arthur had to give it to Lutz, it was hard enough to maintain a rough enough cortex to sound tough without a life threatening disease he could only imagine how hard he tried to be a sarcastic asshole all the time. None the less, Art stayed with Lutz yearning over him from afar though keeping it hidden away as a sort of demonic voice. Lutz showed some emotion back but mostly annoyance in his presence even though he knew he was the only one who cared to be around him. He always was the one to go to Art after they fought if he had a bad day he could always count on Arthur to listen.
In his dreary hospital room Lutz sighs as he reads over his transcripts always the same damned thing he read in the same damned handwriting that slowly worsened as the doctor's mental state grew even duller than his pencil.
"Terminal cancer," he whispered in a rough voice, tracing the words like the many men he had wooed before with his charm. He laughs in remembrance. How could the man with so much power be brought down with the prick of an infectious needle of disease? How could he pop so easily like an overinflated balloon? He knew he was stronger than that.
A chuckle unlike his own rings through his memory as it strains through the fog of stress in his mind,"Cancer? Never thought the big tough German could be brought down."
Ah he remembers now. Old friends swimming in front of his vision ghosts of his failures. They all were dissapointed in his deterioration of both mental and physical state. No longer could the big man lift a simple weight without hacking up his lungs. He shakes away the thought.
"I can't let their bullshit get to me," he repeats to himself as he flips through the 12 channels the hospital recieved on the crappy satellite dish.
"Damn cheap hospital," he growls under his breath for the 50th time,"Can't find a good horror or slasher or porno what the hell am I supposed to do."
He presses the nurse call button for some more morphine as his body started aching again as it always did.
"What I wouldn't do for a good beer," he sighs and falls asleep as the nurse pumps morphine into him, slowly and steadily. Maybe this time he'd never wake up like he wanted to, anything to get away from this pain.