So, I've never written a proper cancer fic before, nor have I written a "death fic" much like this one. I am no expert in medical terms so I've fluked most of the information.
I'm also very ashamed at how many times I've written terminal.
But, regardless, I'm really proud of this and I like it, and I hope you like it too.
And if there's any references to TFIOS I promise they're not intended, I've just honestly read the book that many times it's almost second-nature to reference it.
Healthy.
Cancer.
There's a big contrast between the two words. They seem so far apart, worlds apart.
But the reality is, they're not.
Because you can go from being perfectly healthy one day, to slowly degrading from cancer the next.
It's just a skipping stone from one to the other.
Just a skipping stone.
The walls of the doctor's office were stark white. Bare and empty. No pictures of family members or picturesque scenes, no artistic children's drawings. Just a certificate and an annoyingly loud clock.
Each tick reminded Dan of his potentially short life, his looming death. Each tock was another second of precious time slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.
Oh, to not be terminally ill.
Of course, he wasn't technically terminal, not that he knew. Yet.
After all, the only reason he was even at the stupid clinic in the first place, alone, was because he didn't know if he was doomed to die yet.
He didn't blame Phil for not coming. For not being by his side. He couldn't.
It was hard for both of them.
Phil had burst into tears when Dan had first told him about the discovered tumor. He'd hugged Dan tightly, as if by doing so he could protect Dan.
Phil had been emotional, crying every night when he thought Dan was asleep. Caring, too, making him breakfast in the morning, as soon as he had woken up. He hugged Dan more, kissed him more. He treated Dan as a figure of glass, a fragile being that would break with even the slightest pressure.
It hurt Dan more than the cancer.
(Speaking of...)
"Mr Howell."
"Yes?"
There it was. The sympathetic "You're going to die and I feel bad about it, but at the end of the day I can go home to my family and forget you even exist" smile.
Dan didn't try and prepare himself for bad news.
He was expecting it. He had been expecting it ever since they found the dastardly tumor.
"You're not terminal."
There they were, those fateful words...except – they didn't sound so fateful.
"I'm...not, terminal?"
Okay, maybe that's not what Dan had been expecting.
At all.
The doctor shook his head.
"The tumor is still there, but it's currently dormant. At this moment, at least, you're not terminal. You're going to live."
The doctor smiled. "Providing you don't get hit by a bus or something, that is." He joked.
Despite the horrible, dad-joke quality – Dan didn't laugh or cringe. He was still in shock.
"So...what – what do I do now?"
"I've prescribed some medication...we'll see how that works, and if it doesn't do anything we'll asses what step to take.
Dan nodded and stood up slowly. He shook the doctors hand, smiling somewhat forcefully, mainly thankfully.
His legs were shaky as he walked out into the hallway, as was the smile he directed towards the receptionist.
The news was still hard to take in, harder then when he'd first been told he even had cancer.
Phil was waiting for him when he walked outside. His smile was small and sympathetic, his eyes sad – he thought he knew what Dan was going to say.
"Hey." He said softly when Dan walked over to him.
"Hi." Dan whispered, wrapping his arms around Phil's torso. He rested his head on Phil's shoulder, breathing in the scent from his jacket.
"Are you alright? What did the doctor say?" Phil asked, holding Dan tightly.
"I'm...I'm not terminal."
Dan started to cry, partly in relief, his sobs and words muffled by Phil's scarf.
"Honey, don't cry. It's okay, we'll – we'll get through it. It's okay."
Dan's sobs turned to laughs. He was scared, and it wasn't what he had been expecting, but he felt happy. Sure, he still had cancer, and it sucked and he still felt sick and weak and horrible, but he wasn't terminal.
He had a chance.
"Phil," Dan lifted his head off Phil's chest, looking up at him with bright, tearful eyes.
"I'm not terminal."
"Wait...what?"
Dan reached for Phil's face, cupping his boyfriend's cheeks. He rubbed his thumb across Phil's light stubble.
"I'm not terminal. The cancer's not terminal, it's dormant."
"Does this mean..."
"Yes," Dan smiled. "I have a proper chance to live."
*Two Years Later*
Dan was bored.
He was too weak to really do anything productive. He didn't want to play video games, there was nothing on TV, even the internet was boring.
Phil was out shopping, so Dan couldn't even complain.
He was sick of this stupid cancer.
"Dan, I'm home." Phil's voice echoed down the hall.
"Thank goodness." Dan thought.
Dan shakily pushed himself up from the couch. His knees almost buckled when he stood up. He used the back of the couch to regain balance.
He had made it two baby steps towards the door when Phil walked in.
"Dan? What are you doing?"
"I was coming...to help." Dan said, gulping down air as he spoke.
"You should be resting – you know today's not one of your good days."
"I know," Dan said, allowing Phil to sit him on the couch, as he was too weak to even lift his hand up. "But I was bored."
Phil shook his head. "Dan, I don't want you to get hurt. You're tired enough, what would you do if I was still downstairs, and you fell over?"
"I would lie on the floor wallowing in my own self-pity until you found me?"Dan suggest, smiling faintly.
Phil didn't find it very funny.
"I'm serious," He said, pulling a blanket up over Dan, in case his paleness was because he was cold, and not just sick.
"I worry about you enough already. Please don't give me any more reasons."
Dan sighed, laying his head on Phil's shoulder once Phil had sat down.
"I'm sorry." He whispered.
"You don't need to be sorry." Phil slipped his hand into Dan's. "It's not your fault."
Except, it was.
Because Dan was the one who was weak, the one who couldn't anything for himself anymore – he couldn't even take a few steps.
Dan was the one with the cancer that had changed their lives, the cancer that was slowly destroying his life, not Phil.
Dan was the one who had stopped taking his medication, because he didn't want to need it.
He didn't want to have cancer, dammit.
He didn't want to die.
Daniel Howell lived for another three torturous months.
He didn't die of the cancer, so much as he died of a weakened, practically non-existent immune system.
He never did take his medication again.
He decided that he would much rather die as a person, a living human being, then as a walking pill bottle.
He was weak from the cancer, weak from the toll it had taken on him, he had stopped taking the one thing that had kept him breathing, kept him alive; it was only a matter of time.
It's a miracle he lasted as long as he did.
Perhaps, it was because of Phil.
Maybe Phil kept him going that little bit longer.
After all, Phil was always by Dan's side. He had never left, unless he absolutely had to, since he had first found out about the cancer.
Phil was the only light in the smothering darkness that was Dan's life. He was the only happiness Dan had left.
Dan loved Phil with every ounce of energy he had left. Every part of his being. Every inch of his soul loved Phil.
And Phil loved Dan, just as much, if not more.
Phil was there when Dan died.
The night before, they had gone to bed early. Dan had fallen asleep first, he was always tired in those days, and Phil had spent two hours just watching him sleep.
Dan was gaunt and pale, sickly and grey, with dark bags under his eyes. His hair was thin, lanky, his cheeks sunken, and Phil could feel each rib when ran his fingers along Dan's stomach.
But Dan was still beautiful to Phil. He always had been. Because Phil loved Dan.
"You can leave," Phil whispered to Dan's sleeping form.
"If it hurts too much, still being here, and you want to go – you can. I don't want you to feel like you have to stay just for me. I'll miss you, of course I will, but I want you to be comfortable and happy; which I know you're not. I love you Dan."
Phil had smiled sadly, memorising Dan's face, every inch, every feature, in case he did lose him.
He woke up at two in the morning, cold, to the point of shivering, beads of sweat running down his spine. He knew, instantly, that Dan was gone.
The man he loved with all his heart was no longer there, no longer with him.
He had thought he would be okay, he had told Dan he would be, and he was happy that Dan wasn't in pain anymore...but he was.
He started crying, stomach-wrenching, shaking, broken sobs, as his heart tore in half, shattered into a hundred thousand pieces.
He stayed like that until the sun rose, crying and despairing over the loss of his love.
He finally stopped once the birds started to chirp outside his window. He gazed over at Dan's still, life-less body, his calm, relaxed, at-peace face.
Despite the pain in his heart, despite his broken, torn-up soul, despite everything, every emotion thrashing around inside him, he smiled.
"Goodbye Dan," He whispered. "I miss you already – but I'm sure we'll see each other soon enough. I love you with everything I have, so damn much. I-I hope you know that."
"I love you too Phil." A quiet, almost inaudible ethereal voice whispered.
"I'll wait for you, there's a really nice place I want to show you. When your ready, when your time comes."
Somewhere deep inside Phil's heart, a fire lit. The warmth spread throughout his body, and he smiled.
He knew that Dan was watching him, looking after him, wherever he was.
And until they were reunited, that would be enough.