A/N: Okay so just quickly, the thing with Nate never happened. Also thank you to the darling heyasass for bringing the idea to me and also for betaing :)
—
Myka stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched Helena, Claudia, and Pete, their laughter filling the room as Pete said something that could only be described as, well, Pete. Her gaze drifted to Helena frequently, captivated by the way her smile carried all the way up to her eyes, lighting them up and making them crinkle at the edges. Her shoulders rocked as a laugh erupted from her once again. Even through the laughter, her accent could vaguely be heard.
She watched as Helena turned and spotted her, before beckoning her over. "Myka! Claudia and I were just agreeing that we don't think Pete can eat this packet of crisps in under 30 seconds."
Pete piped up, raising an objective finger, "Excuse me, I can so eat them under 30 seconds! I bet you 5 bucks." He then proceeded to rip open the packet and quite literally grab handfuls, shoving them into his mouth. Helena was quick to look at her watch, timing him as he continued to make a mess, crumbs falling out of his mouth and all over the ground.
Myka had seen Pete scoff a packet of chips in about that amount of time before—it was in his nature—but she didn't say anything. She was too absentminded, wondering how in the hell she was going to tell Helena she had cancer. She'd wanted to tell her for a while, having already told Pete. Telling him had been a huge relief, but she had sworn him to secrecy because she wanted to tell people herself. And she needed to tell Helena next.
She never thought it would be so hard telling such a thing to someone she loved—not that she had ever thought about it previous to a few weeks ago. Telling Pete had been difficult enough. The amount of scenarios she pictured happening had almost made her not want to tell him at all.
The grumblings of Artie entering the room stirred Myka back to the present. "Hey, hey, hey! What's all this?"
The laughter subsided to a grinding halt and all heads turned to Artie. "We were just—" Pete explained, his mouth still rather full, adding more crumbs to his collection. Myka could've sworn a piece almost hit Artie's face.
"You were just, you were just? Go get the broom and clean this mess up," he rambled, shaking his head and walking out the room.
Pete playfully shoved the empty packet of chips into Claudia's hand, and before beginning to walk out he pointed at her and Helena and said, "You guys owe me five bucks."
—
For some reason, H.G. Wells' books gave comfort to Myka. She wasn't sure if it was because they brought back childhood memories of her family and their bookstore, or because she physically knew the mastermind behind the ideas within. She figured it didn't matter; both were consolatory in their own way.
She looked down at the book in her hands. God knows how many times she'd read it; it was one of her favorites. Although she wasn't reading it as such, she looked at the cover. It was a much older edition, hardback; the cover was a musty yellow with slim black letters pressed in, The Time Machine.
There was a soft knock at the door but Myka was too caught up in thoughts to hear, so it scared the living daylights out of her when someone suddenly broke the silence. "That's a good choice."
Myka, visibly startled, turned to see Helena in the doorway. "God, Helena, you scared me."
"Am I that scary?" Helena quipped, tentatively taking a step forward. "May I come in?"
"Of course," Myka nodded. She gestured to the empty space on the bed beside her, "Sit."
Myka placed the book on her nightstand while Helena entered the room and sat down next to her. The pair sat in sheer silence for what seemed like hours, fiddling with hands or nails.
"Myka—"
"Helena—"
They both chuckled softly at their timing.
"You first," Myka offered.
Helena smiled lightly before it disappeared. "Is everything okay? You seemed distant earlier and I'm worried about you."
Sure, everything's fine. I just have cancer, that's all. "Everything's okay."
"Myka, I know you better than that. I know that something is up. Pete may be an idiot, but come on, you have to admit it was rather funny watching him devour that packet of crisps like he hadn't been fed in months."
Myka knew this could be the chance to just tell her. But she couldn't get the words out; she couldn't move her tongue, her mouth. It surprised her because usually her words just came out without much thought or input. Yet there she was, sitting on her bed, as quiet as a mouse.
"Myka?" Helena prompted.
And then it kind of just happened. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, sitting there half hunched over for a few seconds, and then she all but jumped up and started pacing. She glanced over and saw an anxious looking Helena, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly agape in confusion. Myka didn't know what to say, even though she only had to say three words. She'd said them before, so why was it so hard? It wasn't as though there was some special novel-length speech to recite in order to explain what was happening. Three words would explain it all.
She simply just kept pacing, convinced she could actually feel the floor getting thinner beneath her feet. Eventually she had to stop, feeling Helena's burning eyes slice through her. She looked into those beautiful brown eyes and said, "I have cancer."
A silent gasp escaped Helena as her face slowly contorted into confusion, then surprise, then worry and concern. "Wh-what type is it? Have you received any treatment for it yet?"
Myka had started slowly pacing again once the words left her mouth, not wanting to see Helena's reaction. For some reason, even without picturing the multiple scenarios, it was harder telling her than Pete. A thought that would later cross her mind was how it was going to be even harder again telling her unconditionally loving parents.
"Will you come sit back down, Myka, sweetie?" Helena asked in a comforting yet non-condescending way.
Myka gradually paced back to the bed. She sat down on the edge, back facing Helena, and fiddled with her hands, the hem of her shirt, and the invisible lint on her jeans. She could feel the bed dip behind her, and then heard, "Let me see your face," come from Helena. She turned, opting to cross her legs on the bed.
Helena's adoring eyes were looking at her. She lifted her hand to push a stray lock of curly black hair behind Myka's ear. Myka ever-so-slightly leaned in to her touch as it lingered, and looked back down again, soon resuming her hem fiddling. Warm hands came into view and rested on top of her own, bringing her fidgeting to a halt. Helena took Myka's hands and slowly brought them to her lips, kissing them. Her lips were soft, warm. Comforting. "I want you to know that I'm here for you. I always will be. I'll be with you always. You'll be okay. We'll be okay."
Tears quickly welled in Myka's eyes, blurring her vision completely until they began their descent. She couldn't stop them after that. Their supply was relentless and it wasn't giving up any time soon. The ugly matching sobs soon burst past her throat without warning or permission.
"Oh, honey," Helena cooed, swiftly pulling her into an embrace. Myka's head pressed into her shoulder and slowly began to create a wet patch of tears. She moved her head so her chin now rested on her shoulder, saving Helena's sweater from the unflattering mess, and allowing herself to decent air supply.
Myka's heart swelled and quite possibly made her cry even more when Helena spoke soon after.
"I wish I could cuddle your cancer away."
If only it were possible.