Chapter Two

Waking up the next morning sucked, mostly because it meant that tomorrow was my next chemotherapy treatment. I kept my eyes closed as long as possible, despite that it wouldn't make a difference. Your heartbeat has a slower pattern when you sleep (or faster, depending on you dream), and mine just sounded… normal. So after lying there for a half an hour of pretending to sleep, I opened my eyes. I could only see half of the room; a large white curtain blocked my view of the other bed and the door. Wonderful, Ivan's here.

The TV was off. I wondered if he was sleeping or if he just wasn't wasting time watching Spanish soap operas like I did.

Should I say something? Did he even know that I was the other person occupying the room? He had to have known, right? Well, no, maybe not…

"Alexandrea, I can tell you are freaking out on the opposite side of the curtain," the accented voice came out of nowhere. Instead of answering, I just sighed. Within the next minute, the curtain had been pulled away and Ivan was smiling at me (not like normal smiling, it was just a creepy, somewhat stalker like smile). I stared back at him. "Mm, you do look quite different. That tumor of yours is evident."

"Shut up," I mumbled, not in the mood to fight. I was too tired, despite the fact that I had only woken up a half hour ago. Pretending to sleep can really wear you out. (And, as much as I hate to admit it, it was somewhat hurtful the way he had worded that. As if I didn't know that stupid tumor and the dumb cancer didn't make beautiful.)

"Are those really the first words you're saying to me? It has been a while since we've talked, Alexandrea."

I stared the other way. The wall was a boring white with a simple picture and a window that had the blinds closed over it. I can't even see the outside world anymore, can I?

"Silent treatment? Oh, that's too bad."

"Just give me the remote to the TV, close the curtain, and don't talk to me."

"Now why would I give you the remote? You'll just watch another one of those stupid American shows like Jersey Shore."

"Actually," I began, glaring at him, "I want to watch my Spanish soap opera. Now give me the remote." I held out my hand expectantly.

The next few weeks sucked. He constantly talked to me through the curtain, interrupting me from my Spanish soap operas. One morning I woke up to his face just inches from mine, making me jump and nearly scream. He just laughed. Stupid Russian…

But by the next week, he just stopped. No more talking through the curtain, no more distracting me from my Spanish soap operas. He just stayed quiet. It was nice, almost like how it was before I got stuck with him. Though it was weird, why had he just stopped? I almost felt worried for him; what if he was getting sicker and he just couldn't taunt me anymore? It had really only been a week, but it was possible. It's cancer. It can do things to you at an extreme rate.

Tuesday morning, my dad came to visit me. He brought me another book (I tell him not too, but he still bugs me to read all the time). Usually though, it was something I didn't relate to or just really didn't care about. This time, it was a book about a girl with cancer. A love story was mixed in as well. Well now, why can't it be like that for everyone? Excluding the dying of course. It was the first time I had read through an entire book. And the first time I'd read a whole book in one day.

We talked for a while, he told me about how mom had actually called for once. Of course, she was in tears when he told her what had happened. Now it left me to wonder if Matthew knew. Did he? Part of me almost didn't want him to know for so many different reasons.

Ivan hadn't said anything from the other side of the curtain, so I finally asked, "Ivan? Why'd you actually shut up for once?" after muting my Spanish soap opera.

I heard him sigh. "No reason."

"That's the stupidest thing I have ever heard. 'No reason'? It's me, your rival enemy thing! Why aren't you trying to torment me or something?"

"Rival enemy thing?" I couldn't see him, but I knew he was shaking his head. "And I do have my reasons. None of which you need to know, nor should you have any interest in them."

"But I do. So tell me."

"Demanding now, aren't we?" He tsked. "The main reason being I'm tired. And the others? Well, you really don't need to know."

I sighed. "…Can I just ask one more thing?"

"Depends... What is it?"

"What kind of cancer do you have? Like… your story, I guess."

He paused; would he tell me? Probably not. But I couldn't help but wonder. I wanted to know so badly that—

"Fine, but only if you tell me yours as well."

Oh, the joy. Well, we have all day. And night. And the next day. Unless something happens to one of us, which for me is likely. Him? Well, I guess I'm about to figure that out. "You first, or me?"

Well, it is shorter than the first, but their stories are next, so that will probably be a rather long chapter. Also, I know that on my updating schedule it says Saturday for this, but I'm so busy that day I don't even have time to like breath. So, here it is!

Please review? Please? –insert America's puppy dog eyes here-

Also, the book she's talking about it The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. GO READ IT NOW. Seriously, you will not regret it. (Alsom to any Nerdfighters reading- DFTBA!)

So, that's all for now!