The bell between periods rang at one-twenty-seven on the dot, and I couldn't rush out the door fast enough. I waited out in front of the boys' bathroom for Dan, wondering what might have been taking him so long, since he said he'd be here when I got out of class for a few minutes –or did I imagine that bit?

Real or fabricated, though, I didn't have much time to dwell on it; my brain suddenly switched to telling me that everyone's eyes were on me as they walked past. I couldn't do anything but wonder if Andrew told them anything, and what they knew or what they thought they knew. They probably thought I was the violent one, because there was obviously no way Andrew would actually own up to his sexuality. And yes, I could understand him not wanting to come out, he'd explained it to me a million times before and I sympathized. But now everyone was going to think that I assaulted him when it was, and always was, the other way around.

I felt light-headed and almost collapsed against the water fountain. I took a quick sip from it and wiped the droplets from my mouth, swallowing hard. It splashed and settled heavily in my otherwise empty stomach and just made me feel sicker. I decided I couldn't stay out here and wait for Dan; if I stayed there too much longer I was going to vomit in the middle of the hallway. I ducked into the bathroom and headed for a stall in case I did throw up, but listening a bit closer I noticed someone was already in there and doing just that.

I tentatively knocked on the stall door. "Hello?"

"Hello?" the poor soul croaked out. My breath hitched in my throat –it was Dan in there.

"Dan, it's me…" I shuffled a bit awkwardly outside the door, wincing and tears building up in my eyes. I hated to think he was outwardly sick like this, though I knew the underlying cause was much, much more serious than a stomach bug, or even better my silly worries and stress making me nauseous.

The door opened a little; Dan grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. I didn't have time to react before he was back to kneeling in front of the toilet, heaving his guts out. It sounded wretched and painful, and all I could do was kneel down on the floor next to him, rubbing his back and pushing his sweat-dampened hair off his forehead.

"Don't- Don't touch my hair," he coughed out during a break in the vomiting. "It's already falling out, I'd like to keep it intact as long as possible."

I nodded and withdrew my hand. He seemed to be finished for now, and half-collapsed against the toilet seat. I wrung my hands together, muscles strained but nerve endings numbed out. "Are you okay…?" I asked sheepishly, uncertain. Maybe he wasn't up for talking about it; maybe he just wanted to be left alone now. The three minutes between periods had surely run out by now, but taking care of Dan took the highest priority over returning to do the lab activity with the likes of Kayla Jameson.

Dan coughed a little and sat against the tiles on the wall. I scooted along the floor to sit beside him, close but far enough to not invade his space. "I'm fine, I guess…" he sighed, wiping sweat off his face and looking even more exhausted than he had earlier.

"Don't bullshit me." I was honestly surprised by my own bluntness and choice of words. I stammered a little and finally elaborated. "I mean, I-I know you're not feeling well –it's pretty obvious and really understandable. But if you're actually trying to convince me that you're okay, I think this may be messing with your head a little more than you think—"

It was only then I realized I might've gone too far, said too much, overstepped my boundaries. I thought any moment Dan would get up and leave and never want to see me again. But he didn't. He laughed a little, and turned and smiled at me. "Okay, then," he relinquished, tears visibly welling in his eyes. "I'm not okay, I'm fucking horrible. My insides are on fire and I have a splitting migraine and my hair's falling out, and- and I'm scared of what's coming. I don't think I'm gonna die, necessarily –I'm not giving up yet. But at the same time I have to think about it –as much as I don't want to— and I don't want to die. I can't die before I even get to live.

"So, no, I'm not fine, I'm just so used to having to pretend that I am. Everyone –my parents, my friends, everyone— they all expect me to say I'm okay, because they don't want to deal with reality –but they aren't the ones who are maybe dying! I mean… do you know why we moved here? My parents couldn't handle it, and wanted to be closer to family so they could have a better support system. They uprooted me from my home and brought me here –not for improved medical treatment, not because I fucking wanted to, but because they were selfish enough to put their own needs ahead of their cancer-ridden son. I don't think they thought how it would affect me, but that's the fucking problem, is that they didn't think about anyone but themselves. I know they care and all that shit, but not enough to actually do what's really best for me."

I couldn't keep myself from crying at the pain in Dan's voice, but I tried to keep it discreet for his sake. He didn't need me bawling on top of everything else he had to deal with.

"Everyone just quietly accepts it when I lie and say I'm fine. They don't want to or care to think about how maybe the kid with a brain tumor is not fucking fine. So, thank you. I mean, it really shouldn't have to be such a huge fucking progression that somehow doesn't believe me when I say I'm fine, but you didn't, and I really am grateful." He turned a bit more to face me a little more fully. "And I don't want to dump all my bitterness on you, but I just needed to let it out."

"I don't blame you," I replied quietly, wiping my eyes dry.

"I'd much rather be kissing you or something right now if my mouth didn't taste like puke."

I couldn't help but laugh softly. "It's okay; we'll have plenty of time for that later."

"Do you wanna come to my place after school?"

I thought about it for a moment. Honestly, I didn't want to run the risk of seeing Dan's parents after what Dan had just told me. I didn't want to accidentally be rude in my bitterness toward them. I shook my head. "I think you should come over to my house… or maybe we can just run away."

He laughed and leaned in to kiss my cheek, leaving a burning blush in its wake. "Maybe another time. For now your house will do."