HELLO DEAR READERS.

Just a little (unedited) drabblish thing I typed up while I was bored at work and feeling really down. Also Cecilos. I've kinda had this buzzing around in my brain for awhile, but I didn't know how to put it together. It's actually kinda based off an ego project I've been working on (fighting with) for the last two months or so. A lot of the dialogue is actually based off of the song "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance.

Welcome to Night Vale belongs to Joseph Fink and Jeffery Cranor. I own naught.

Enjoy~

Ordinary was the last thing associated with the radio host Cecil Gershwin Palmer.

The place he lived wasn't ordinary.

The job he had certainly wasn't ordinary.

Those he loved certainly weren't ordinary.

Perhaps that's what made it so hard for Carlos.

It had all started innocently enough. A sore throat. Cecil had brushed him off, saying it was nothing. "It happens every now and then," he croaked hoarsely, "I guess it was just a particularly scream-y show today. I'll be fine."

I'll be fine.

It was nearly a week later and his voice was still hoarse. Carlos insisted he see the doctor, but Cecil again waved away his concerns. "It's okay, love." Cecil assured him, taking another sip of bloodberry tea, then using it to write more on his paper to communicate. "It'll be better in a couple more days. Besides, this is giving Intern Diya good reporting practice."

It's okay.

As promised, Cecil's voice returned after two days. It didn't alleviate his scientist boyfriend's worries in the least. Especially not since the host had started coughing more. It started as just an occasional flurry of coughs, not lasting more than a moment and not happening more than once every few days. In the couple of months since the Voice of Night Vale's bout with Laryngitis, it had gotten much worse. He would start coughing while on air, not stopping for several minutes and having to go to The Weather or some prerecorded announcement prematurely, then filling the rest of the time with local gossip or news, or CDC notices and praying he wouldn't run out of prerecorded material. "I know some of you listeners have been writing in," Cecil spoke smoothly, suppressing the urge to cough and instead taking another sip of tea, "Asking me if my health is well, and suggesting I see our municipally provided doctors about this pesky cough that plagues me more and more often on air." Cecil couldn't fight it any longer and coughed into a tissue, three coughs, then nothing. "And I would be lying if I said you were alone, as Carlos," he smiled "Dear, sweet, perfectly imperfect, worrisome Carlos…" he mused "He's been asking me to go as well." He cleared his throat. "But I assure you, dear listeners, and Dear Carlos as well, that you have nothing to fear more than you do any other day in our little town." He glanced down at the tissue, only to flinch slightly at the sight of maroon blood against white paper. "While my health is…. Admittedly, not optimal, I can assure you I am perfectly fine. Please, do not worry for my sake."

Don't worry.

Carlos did worry. He worried a lot, actually. Watching his love change clothes in the night and morning, seeming to be losing more weight every day, he worried. Every night he slept, the radio host curled up in his arms, trapped in fitful sleep he worried. Listening to Cecil's strained breaths, occasionally even breaking into gasps and coughs in a half-asleep stupor, he worried. He drew the line when Cecil came to the lab to meet him for lunch and became so trapped in a coughing fit he curled up on the ground to ride it out. "That's it," Carlos shook his head. "Doctor. I'm taking you. Now."

"Noooo," Cecil begged in between small coughs. "I'm f-fine, C-Carlos-!"

"Ceece, I'm not taking no for an answer." Carlos insisted firmly. "You're sick. You're sick and I'm taking you to a doctor right now."

"No, y-you have to-!" he coughed roughly, "You have to do science, Carlos."

"Science can wait for you, Ceece." He told him firmly, helping Cecil pull on his burnt umber coat.

The car ride was mostly silent. "I still think you're worrying for nothing, sweetheart." Cecil mumbled, his voice sounding strained. "I'm fine, really."

"I'm sure, honey," Carlos used the hand that rested on the gear shift to entwine with the Host's in the passenger seat. "But always better to be safe rather than sorry… A scientist is nothing if not cautious."

"I'm afraid it's cancerous."

The words filled the empty air, making the atmosphere thick and even hard to breathe in. "W-what?" Cecil's voice, usually so strong and so sweet, sounded like it was barely above a whisper.

The doctor used their tentacles to crudely gesture to the x-ray of a head and neck, pointing to a small mass darker than the rest of the image. "I'm afraid it's already begun to spread to the lymph nodes. If we are to save your voice, we'd have to start treatment immediately." The doctor shook their head, forked tail swishing uncomfortably. "But… I'm afraid even then we risk your voice being permanently damaged."

Carlos's eyes darted between the doctor and his love. Cecil leaned forward on the chair, head in his hands. His horn-rimmed glasses were pushed up above his eyebrows, the nose bumpers slightly tangled in his blonde hair. Carlos rubbed his back, letting the shock of the news settle in. "wh…what are our treatment options, Doctor Dubicki?"

The doctor ruffled their feathers and let out a quiet hiss. "We would have to start by removing the growth surgically," they said, "after that, Mr. Palmer, we'd start you on two cycles of Chemotherapy treatments, twice a week for six weeks."

Cecil seemed to let out a quiet sigh, deep in thought. "r-right," he nodded, voice quiet, "r-right, okay. I… I'll do it… After all, what choice do I have?"

The doctor nodded sagely, tentacles wriggling, "I understand." He said, "Let me make a few calls and we can see how soon we can have you scheduled for in-patient surgery… I'll give you two some time to discuss things."

As soon as the doctor had slithered away, Cecil seemed to fold in on himself, his voice and hands shaking. "C-Cancer…" his voice was barely audible, "Oh, God, i-it's… I-it's cancer, Carlos…"

Carlos had no words, all he could do was hug the host so that he could hide his face in his chest. Cecil gave a quiet sob. "M-my show," He whimpered, "M-my Voice… My Voice…"

Carlos pushed tears out of his own eyes as he hugged his Cecil close, rocking him slightly. "Carlos," Cecil begged quietly, "C-Carlos…"

The Scientist tilted his face up so he locked eyes with him, using his thumb to wipe away tears. "I'm here," his voice was soft, "I promise, I'm here, Ceece. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."

Carlos pressed a desperate kiss to Cecil's wrinkled forehead. "You can beat this," he half-whispered, "we can beat this. Cecil, my honey-voiced-honey, you can win this."

Cecil seemed to choke on his words as he spoke. "I'm scared, Carlos," he whimpered softly, "I'm so so so scared."

Carlos kept his tight grip on his love, stroking his hair and rocking slightly. Scientists were usually fine. So by extension, Scientist's boyfriends were usually fine. They had to be.

White walls. White floors, scuffed with little black marks here and there. White uniforms, white shoes, white everything. Carlos hated the color white. Even still, he walked down white halls and white floors, passing white uniformed orderlies with their white shoes. After a short distance, he turned to enter the room, a practiced path he'd taken every day for three months. The scientist painted a smile over his heartbroken face. "Hi, Sweetie."

The emaciated Radio host focused his energy on turning his head to face the door. "H-Hi… C-Carlos…" he croaked with a small smile.

Carlos's smile became a little more real for a moment, as he bent down to kiss the Host's forehead, where his third eye would usually manifest. "How are you feeling today, honey?" Carlos asked.

"I'm okay," Cecil's tone made it hard to tell if he was honest, "th-thirsty."

"Here," Carlos's response was almost automatic, picking up the plastic cup from the bedside table, bending the straw so he could drink easier, "Remember, little sips."

"Ok… M-mom…" Cecil teased softly, taking the straw in his chapped lips.

After a moment or two Carlos put the cup back on the table. He ran a hand over the soundboard and microphone setup, on a second table, next to the bed. "Intern Diya doing today's show?" he asked casually.

Cecil shook his head. "No," he said, "she's… investigating… th-the new Lamp Store," he was almost out of breath. "H-hopefully no… no cyanide this time…"

Cecil coughed slightly and Carlos instinctively put a hand to Cecil's shoulder. "W-was… actually thinking I'd run the show today…"

Carlos furrowed his brow in worry. "Ceece, are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked softly, "Are you feeling up to it?"

Cecil nodded, as best as he could. "C-can't just… sit back and let my Interns run my show for me." Cecil smiled slightly.

Cecil's smile broke Carlos's heart. It looked so forced, so pained. And every day, it felt as though it faded a little more every day. Like every day it became a little more effort to bring the corners of his mouth upwards. Even still, he put it on, for Carlos if no one else. "Janice and Abby came by today," Cecil mused.

"Oh?" Carlos said absently, "how are they?"

"Fine," Cecil said softly, "Janice just earned her 'Anarchy Prevention' and 'Jingoist Operations' badges."

"Wow, good for her." Carlos quirked a smile.

Cecil made a little noise of acknowledgement. "S-Steve came to bring her to her scout meeting," he said softly, "Abby and I… we talked…" his voice was softer, "we talked about… well, about the future." He locked eyes with Carlos, dull violet connecting with chocolate brown. "Or… Possible lack thereof…"

Carlos clenched his fist, swallowing away the lump in his throat. "D-don't… D-don't say that, Ceece," he murmured, "You're doing so good, you're almost done with this cycle."

"Until I start the next cycle, and the cycle after that." Cecil said quietly, with an edge of sadness behind it. "Carlos… I'm not getting better... I know what the doctors tell you when they think I'm not listening."

Carlos couldn't meet eyes with his love. "Th-they're wrong," he said shakily, "S-Scientifically speaking you should be getting better, not worse."

"Should be." Cecil nodded. "But you know Science doesn't always work right in Night Vale, darling."

Carlos put his head in his hands. Science was the one thing that's stayed with him, that's been absolute his whole life. And now it fails him, when he most needs it? "Carlos," Cecil's soft voice brought him back to earth. "Make sure I… I'm wearing th-the yellow tunic, and green furry pants."

Carlos's heart hurt. "a-and please, cremate me, not bury." Cecil asked softly, "don't put me in a box… I know Abby wants to, for one reason or another. But don't let her talk you into it."

"Cecil," Carlos's voice was soft. "Cecil, I don't want to talk about this now."

"When then, Carlos?" Cecil's voice was pleading, "When they have to remove more of my voice and I can't have a say anymore?"

"Cecil, please." Carlos's voice dropped to a whisper.

"This isn't living, love," Cecil's voice sounded as though he was about to cry. "I'm always too tired… I can't go to lunch with you anymore, I can't pet my Khoshekh anymore, I can't give my niece shoulder-rides anymore, or go to her Scout ceremonies… I can't even do my show anymore." He locked eyes with his scientist. "I… I'm sorry, Carlos…"

"D-don't be sorry," Carlos shook his head. "I-I'm selfish… I-I don't want you to go. I want to keep you."

"I'm sorry…" Cecil's voice was almost inaudible, tears rolling down his cheeks. "C-Carlos, I… I'm counting the days."

He laughed, a quiet, mournful sound. "Jesus, Carlos, I'm awful to look at. And most of the time I feel as bad as I look."

Cecil was certainly not the same as he was months prior. His hair had fallen out about a week and a half after he had started treatment. His stomach would reject food like a bad organ transplant, making nourishment a thing of the past. The surgery and the cancer had stolen most of his mellifluous voice. "P-Please… d-don't hate me…" Cecil's voice was pleading. "B-but… every time… every time you say goodbye, I hope it's true… s-so I don't have to go through more of this…"

Carlos stifled a sob and entwined his hand with Cecil's. "I'm sorry, Carlos," he whispered, "I'm sorry, P-Please don't hate me."

The scientist shook his head, pressing his love's pallid knuckles to his lips. "I could never, ever hate you, Ceece…" he whispered. "I just wish you didn't have to leave… I wish I could take away your pain…"

Cecil locked eyes with him. "Darling…" he croaked, "You do…you make all of this bearable…"

He closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillow. "Th-that's the hardest part of all of this." He murmured, "Leaving you."

After a moment or two of silence, Cecil laughed again, a dark, mournful sound. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm just a little soggy from the chemo."

A little set of beeps and chirps sounded from Cecil's phone. "Oh, would you look at that," he croaked softly, "T-time to… do the news…"

Cecil started to sit up, but after moments of struggle, he simply let his head rest against the pillow dejectedly. "Let's do the news together." Carlos offered a smile.

Cecil smiled back, looking genuine. "I love you," he murmured, "My perfect, perfectly imperfect scientist…"

"I love you too, Cecil," Carlos said, kissing his nose as he slipped a pair of headphones over Cecil's ears.

Ordinary was the last thing associated with the radio host Cecil Gershwin Palmer.

The place he lived wasn't ordinary.

The job he had certainly wasn't ordinary.

Those he loved certainly weren't ordinary.

Perhaps that's what made it so hard for Carlos.

Losing someone so extraordinary to something so painfully ordinary as cancer.

WHY do I do this to myself ;_; God damn myself for leaving my tablet at home so I'd have nothing to do at work!

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