Random reader: Prototypical Nonconformist! Where have you been?!

PN: Well, random reader. I was at band camp for the last week. And let me tell you, it was...very intresting.

Random reader:Band camp? Wow, your a dork.

PN: yeah, I know...

Okay heres chapter 12. Enjoy!

(A/N I don't have the disease described in this chapter. So if I get things wrong, Im sorry. Bethany was origonally going to have something else wrong with her so it was a bit of a stretch to put this one in. just go with it. Borwnie points for those who know where I got the idea from.)

Chapter twelve: Tell Me Everything

"You know I'm sick…" I repeat, trying my hardest to think of a way to change the subject without thinking about my… condition. If I don't think about it, he won't figure it out.

"Yes. Now it's really not that hard to tell me what you have." he says, annoyed now.

"Uh, yeah it is. I obviously kept it from you for a reason." I try to think of a way to explain myself. He probably assumes it's an STD or something now. Which its not. I'm not ashamed of my illness. It's just that I've kept it from those who don't need to know for so long, it'd be weird to let someone else in on it now.

He looks at me calmly and takes my hand.

"Please tell me," He whispers, obviously trying to romance it out of me, "maybe I can help. I promise it won't change what I think of you."

I look at him and sigh. He knows I'm a sap, and he knows how to break me. I just wish he'd let me win every once and a while.

"Okay, okay. But um… don't ask any questions till I'm done. Okay?"

He nods, so I take a big breath and begin.

"I have Systemic lupus. I was diagnosed with it when I was 13. It's a chronic autoimmune disease, which means my immune system is attacking my body and there's no way to cure it. Its hereditary so don't worry about getting it form me. Plus you're a vampire; I don't even think you have an immune system. Anyway, I got it from my grandparents on my mother's side. I haven't let anyone know I have it because I don't want people to think I can't do things, or feel like they have to take care of me. The only people who get to know have to be part of my family, my doctor, or someone official like a teacher or something. None of my friends know I have it. Mike doesn't even know I have it."

Edward smiles at that. Yay him, now he can go gloat about how he knows me better than Mike.

"The reason I could keep it a secrete for so long is because I haven't had a flare in over a year, but my good luck streak seems to be coming to an end. A flare is just when I get the symptoms. Its usually chest pain, joint pain, a fever, extreme fatigue, anemia (few red blood cells, so I'm not very tasty), when I get cold or stressed I turn blue (it's really pretty disgusting,) a really gross rash which, if I'm really lucky will be on my face, sometimes I get depressed, but its nothing to worry about. Just prepare for me to be very unhappy for a while. Flares usually come after being in the sun for along time or being really stressed. And, although I like having you here, you (and Mike, of course) may be the reason for this particular flare. They can last for any amount of time. I have to take a lot of pills and I may have to go to the doctor a lot now. Annnnnd…uh… I think that's about it. Any questions?"

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asks. I look down and notice that he's still holding my hands. So I pull them away and fold them in my lap.

"Well you don't have to leave if that's what you're asking. But I guess you should just be supportive. I may get really depressed, and I'll probably become more of an attention whore than usual. Just bear with me and be a friend. We may not be able to do as much because I'll be tired, speaking of which," I yawn, "I really do want to take a nap."

I lie down and shimmy under the blankets. He lies next to me and stares at me like he is trying to get me to think something so he doesn't have to ask. I meet his intense green gaze and try really hard to comply, but after a while I give up.

"What?"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" he asks, "Tell me the real reason."

I roll my eyes and turn on my side to face him.

"I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to get the whole 'oh poor you, your sick' thing. And my doctor told me that people may have trouble understanding that I'm sick and there isn't anything anyone can do to fix me. There was no dramatic reason behind it. I just don't want to be looked at any differently."

He pauses for a second and looks at the ceiling then asks: "Have you ever considered suicide as a way out?"

This question surprises me for some reason. I don't know what kind of answer he wants or where to start. I never expect to get into a gut spilling, get-to-know-each-other-better type of conversation with Edward Cullen. I have to think about it for a second, making sure I'm being honest, what I came up with surprised me more than the question itself.

"No." I say simply, "I would never do such a thing to my family." He looks at me with a weird expression, he stays as still as a statue for a moment and then hugs me.

"I admire you." He says.

"Why?" I ask.

"You're much stronger than me."

I have no idea what to do or day so I sit there, limp as a rag doll. To lazy to say anything and to comfortable to move.

"I want to know more about you." He says after a while, holding my shoulders to look into my eyes. That weird expression still on his face.

I shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Er… What do you want to know?"

"When were you first diagnosed?"

"After being in and out of the hospital for a few years." I close my eyes and try to

remember the scene, "I think your dad was one of my many doctors."

"Did he diagnose you?" Edward let go of me so I lay back down. He looks down at me, green eyes smoldering.

"No, I think he told me I had some kind of infection or something. No one really knew what I had. Lupus is very hard to diagnose." I smile.

"What got you into the hospital the first time?" His eyes are full or worry and curiosity. He touches me gently as though he's afraid I'm going to shatter under his fingers. I wish I could say something to calm him down.

"Just for the record, even though I'm having a flare it doesn't mean I am any more fragile, weak or at all different that I was before. Lupus isn't deadly."

I think…

That doesn't seem to make him feel any better. I smile at him and make a stupid face trying to show him that I'm not any different than before. That also doesn't seem to make him feel any better. May as well answer his question now.

"Okay! The first time I was in the hospital…Well that must have been when I was 11. I had a 105 degree fever and some flue symptoms. They got my fever down pretty quickly but I sick for a while, I just kept getting worse and they couldn't figure it out. Someone actually suggested Lupus after a while, but my doctor got mad and just kept saying 'You're wrong! Its not Lupus!' He was a bit of a nut case. Kinda reminded me of Dr. House. Anyway, they finally found some pills that seemed to help and sent me home. I was there for a few weeks. It was really obnoxious."

He continues to question me. Eventually giving up on my lupus and asking me about my personal life. To my surprise my mother only came in to check on me once. Her loud, pounding footsteps gave us a good ten minute warning to her arrival. We talk until late and I can barely keep my eyes opened. Both of us too tired to move. So, although it may not be the best idea, we fall asleep in each others arms.