CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

"So, Mr. Redfox," Porlyusica began, pushing the glasses up the bridge of her nose as she lowered into the chair behind her desk, "I must say this is a first from you. For the last couple of years, you've been quite clear that the only time we'd see you was at your scheduled weekly appointment on Monday. So what, may I ask, brought you here on a Wednesday?"

Gajeel felt uncharacteristically nervous as he looked down at his lap. A lot of things forced him to pick up the phone and call to make an appointment that morning, but one thing in particular stood out in his mind. Since his relationship with Levy began, he found his attention shifting to that dreaded paper more than he'd ever thought he would. The list of chemotherapy treatment plans was something he'd shoved away in the darkest corner, only peeking occasionally to appeal to "what if" thoughts. After reading over the list, he'd come to his senses and angrily shove it back into its hiding place. But now that Erza had seen it, he couldn't help but consider her words.

Gajeel loved Levy. Every piece of his soul loved her, craved her. He couldn't imagine a life without her. And it wasn't until Erza told him she was worried about him that he stopped to consider Levy's feelings over his own. She deserved to know, but more than that, she deserved happiness. Gajeel wasn't stupid—he knew she was worried about him. It was probably scary to watch him go through an unknown ailment without any explanation. And Gajeel finally came to a devastating realization.

Levy loved him as much as he loved her. And if Gajeel put himself in her shoes, living after she was gone would be impossible. He'd rather die than live without her. And the thought that he would be forcing her to do that was sickening. It made him feel weak and angry and guilty, and the revelation left him numb and sick. He would be, unbeknownst to her, making Levy live with grief and suffering. If there was a way to stop that, he would. It wasn't about living for himself or curing cancer anymore—it was about making the woman he loved happy, and shielding her from a pain greater than any other.

With a sigh, he pulled the unruly mass of black hair over his shoulder, resting his elbows on the desk. "I'm in."

Porlyusica blinked. "What?"

"I said I'm in," he said. "The chemotherapy. I'll do it. Whatever it takes, I just want to beat this shitty disease."

He'd pictured her reaction in his mind nearly a thousand times on his way into the clinic that morning. Shock, definitely. Perhaps a rarely seen smile. Maybe even a little fondness in her gaze, or relief. Something, anything, but the devastation written all over her face. Gajeel's heart sunk when he studied her. That alone was a bad sign. Nervously, he shifted in his seat until she finally straightened and removed her glasses, carefully folding them and setting them on her desk.

"Gajeel, I… I don't know how to say this exactly."

Porlyusica was an abrasive woman, always spoke her mind. If you were offended by what she had to say, then tough luck. But for once, she was gentle and soft, and entirely at a loss for words. Gajeel felt the dread pooling in his gut, and he sat back with a guarded expression. "Just say it," he bit out.

Porlyusica didn't meet his eyes, and she sighed. "It's too late."

All the air left Gajeel's lungs until he felt numb. Of course. Every negative emotion flooded his system. Guilt for not telling Levy and for when he would leave her behind with his death. Anger because he was finally manning up to get help and it was too late. Remorse because he was dying. It didn't matter how badass you thought you were—dying is the scariest thing you'll ever go through. At least when it happened suddenly, you didn't have time to process the fear. Gajeel had two years to stew on all the fear and anger.

The hate he harbored for himself grew deeper with Porlyusica's words. His knuckles were white with how hard he was gripping the arms of the chairs. Now he really had to tell her. He couldn't keep up this charade much longer. Not like he'd really been fooling her. Levy was smarter than anyone he'd ever met, and she knew something was up. He just wished he didn't have to put her through the pain.

"What do you—" he swallowed thickly, "What do you mean?"

Porlyusica folded her hands together. "Your body has become so weak…the chemotherapy would kill you." For the first time, her gaze met his, and he was astounded at the pain in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Redfox. I'll do everything I can to help you, but I'm afraid chemotherapy just isn't an option anymore. At this point, the side effects would only be horrific, and it wouldn't be effective."

Gajeel felt numb, empty. He'd finally worked up the courage to get the chemo and it was too late. And he didn't even want it for himself, but for Levy. Knowing she would have to live on after him… Gajeel swallowed thickly against the guilt and anger, and the fear. He loved her—he didn't want to leave her. He tensed when a hand pressed to his shoulder, and his eyes slowly moved up to meet Porlyusica's. Her expression was sorrowful.

"I'm so sorry, Gajeel."

He nodded, standing and turning away to mask his own sorrow. "It's my own damn fault. Thanks for seeing me."

"Gajeel—"

"I'll see myself out."

And then he left. He didn't stop to talk with Wendy. Poor girl would know soon enough, and he couldn't handle hurting someone else today. Once Levy found out… Gajeel took a deep breath as he stepped outside. He needed air. He needed someone to talk to, for once. He'd never relied on talking to anyone, but he needed someone. He just needed to get all this off his chest. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and sent a quick text to Sting. He wasn't scheduled for work today, but Gajeel just needed to see someone.

A buzz signaled Sting's reply, and he looked at the message thread. Gajeel had only sent "coming to work, gotta talk." Sting must've understood, because he sent back "closing the shop now." That only meant that he knew whatever Gajeel had to say wasn't going to be good.


When Gajeel arrived at the shop, Sting had already switched the blinking "open" sign off. Gajeel stepped through the front door, the bell clanking noisily against the glass. Sting froze where he was pacing, and Rogue shot up from his chair in the corner. If their expressions were any indication, they knew what Gajeel wanted to talk about. It was also clear that none of them, Gajeel included, were ready to have this conversation.

"Hey, man," Sting said, forcing a smile. "Let's go back to the break room, alright?"

Gajeel nodded numbly and followed them into the break room. Off the lobby was a small room they used during lunch breaks. It had a small table in the corner by the tiny kitchenette, and a plush couch on the adjacent wall. It was patched and old, but the fabric was soft and comfortable. The small window gave enough light to make it comfortable. Gajeel winced at the pain in his lungs and slowly lowered onto the couch, his muscles protesting the movement. Sting bent over the mini fridge and pulled out three beers before pulling up a chair.

Handing one to Rogue, who sat near Gajeel on the couch, and the other to Gajeel, he smiled tightly. "Figured it would be necessary."

They all just sat there in silence for a few minutes. No one knew how to start this conversation, where to begin. This was a long overdue conversation, and it was one they'd all been avoiding. Sting and Rogue always told Gajeel they wanted to be kept in the loop, and got mad at him when he didn't tell them what was going on. But the truth was that they'd been avoiding it, too. And now that they were about to face everything, hear the entire story, it was tough. It wasn't until Rogue sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and taking another swig of beer, that anyone spoke up.

"So, talk to us, man," Sting said, cautiously. "What's going on?"

Loaded question, Gajeel thought. And just like Sting to get right to the point. Gajeel twisted the beer bottle in his hands, his jaw clenching as his mind fought for the right words. He didn't know how to say it gently. There was no way to come out and say that he was going to die simply, so rather than sugar-coating things, he started from the top. Honestly, simply, without keeping secrets. The time to keep things hidden had long passed. Sting and Rogue had been by his side from the start, and they were the best friends he had. They deserved to know everything.

He started by telling them about his symptoms—exactly what he was feeling, how they were getting worse and what was new. Gajeel even lifted his shirt to show them the bruise from the injections. He told them about his endless rounds of medications and how nothing was working, and how Porlyusica had set him on his final set of medication because they'd tried so many and nothing was working. He even told them about how she told him to simply enjoy the time he had left, and to treat every moment like it was his last. That hurt them more than anything.

Gajeel spoke of his unplanned appointment that morning. How he finally decided to fight for his life and get chemotherapy, and how Porlyusica had told him it was just too late. He told them about how on his weekly appointment on Monday, they discovered that his cancer had officially spread into his lungs, and how the time he had left now was cut in half, at least. How now that the cancer was spreading at such a fast rate, it was only a matter of time until he died—that could be anywhere from now to a month from now. Gajeel watched as their faces went from concern with tiny sparks of hope to devastation with each new admission.

So far, other than Sting and Rogue, Erza was the only person that knew about his secret battle. Gajeel knew his other friends had suspicions about his declining health—it was becoming too obvious. Even Dragneel was catching on. But he didn't want to tell them. For some reason, in his mind, telling them meant losing them. He couldn't quite make sense of the logic, but he just couldn't pluck up the courage to tell them. Every time he thought about it, every time he started to come clean to one of his friends, or Levy, the words just died in his throat. He hated himself even more for it. He hated that he'd become such a damn coward.

"Now you know everything," Gajeel said, tense. "No more secrets."

Sting and Rogue looked like they'd seen ghosts. They were both pale and wide-eyed, and the sorrow was well masked but still noticeable in their eyes. He heard one of them—he wasn't sure which—swear under their breath, and watched as Rogue roughly combed his fingers through his hair, eyes darting around unfocused. Sting was the first to react, placing his hand on Gajeel's shoulder. "You can't give up, Gajeel."

Gajeel blinked. "What the hell are you sayin'? I have no other options!"

"You can beat this," Sting said again, ignoring Gajeel's frustration. His voice was steady and certain, his eyes flashing with a fierce determination. "I have faith in you. You can do this, man. You have too many people counting on you."

This almost made Gajeel angrier. How could they not understand he was dying? "Look, Sting, I get what you're trying to do, but face the facts. It's done. I was a fucking coward and I refused chemo, and now I'm going to die."

"You aren't going to die!" Sting yelled. "You are not going to die, Gajeel Redfox! You can't give up now! Fight harder, damn it! Stop giving up!"

Gajeel stiffened. "Sting—"

A fist landed against his cheekbone, and he grunted. Gajeel blinked and hissed once the pain settled in. Rubbing his already swelling cheek, he turned murderous eyes over to Sting, who was staring back at him fiercely. The punch wasn't bad enough to do serious damage—Sting had made sure of that. But it hurt like a bitch, and there would no doubt be a bruise. The intensity of their staring contest only grew until Rogue stepped in and gently tugged Sting away.

"Stop giving me your shitty excuses and listen to me for once," Sting said, now much calmer. "I don't know where the hell you got this idea that you deserve to die, but it's ridiculous! You don't deserve this! Fight for your life until your very last breath. I'm not going to let you just throw your life away by giving up. Fight this!"

Gajeel could see the anger in his friend's eyes. The determination, the fear, but most importantly, the hurt. He was angry that Gajeel was giving in and scared that he'd lose him.

Gajeel sighed, speaking softer than before. "Sting. I get it, but even you have to admit this is bad."

"Gajeel." This time it wasn't Sting to speak. Gajeel looked over at Rogue, and the argument he'd prepared dissipated. Rogue was giving him an almost pleading look. "You're going to beat this," he said. "You can do it."

Gajeel looked between them and sighed. "Alright, alright."

"Good," Sting said, tense air clearing just a fraction, "because you have to be around so I can kick your ass in the spring. I've been learning a lot in my kickboxing class. I bet I can even take you on now."

This was good. Jokes were good. Jokes meant that despite the tense conversation, the admissions, the devastation they would all soon face, they could still carry on like normal. It meant they wouldn't give him the pity face when all was said and done. It meant Gajeel was still a human being. Just a regular guy who happened to have terminal cancer.

Sting and Rogue weren't stupid—far from it, actually. They both knew how serious the situation was. But they were also selfish and annoyingly determined, and both refused to accept that Gajeel's death was growing closer. Gajeel could accept it, though it hurt a lot more now that Levy was in the picture. But Sting and Rogue seemed to refuse to listen.

The laughter died away and the room fell silent again. There was no need in forcing fake happiness, so they all sat in mutual quiet, not knowing what to say. Gajeel raked his fingers through his hair roughly. It reached his pants now, which wasn't necessarily surprising. But how could he cut it when Levy loved it so much? Thoughts of Levy made his stomach flip all over again, and he exhaled through his nose slowly, eyes shut tight.

They'd been dating for how long, now? And he'd been in love with her for so long… Gajeel knew without a doubt she needed to know. Deserved to know. But every time he tried to tell her, the panic rose in his throat and his stomach dropped and the words just wouldn't come out. Telling her meant losing her, he knew that. As soon as she found out that he'd been lying to her, that he'd been hiding something so important, she'd be gone for good. And he didn't blame her one bit. But what hurt most of all was the pain he would cause her—the pain he was already causing her. Gajeel noticed all the looks she gave him when she noticed his health at its lowest. He saw all the worry on her face when standing to get out of bed was a struggle. If she was this concerned without knowing it was cancer…

Gajeel didn't know what Levy thought he had. Probably just some lifelong disease. He told her once that he'd had fragile health all his life, and that sometimes it got worse before it got better. That calmed her enough, but the lie was eating away at his gut. He'd said it in the face of fear. Not knowing what else to tell her, it was the only thing he could think of. He panicked. And it was the best lie he could come up with.

Rogue gave him a concerned look, and Gajeel couldn't stop the words spilling from his mouth. "Lev doesn't know."

Rogue blinked, and Sting's smile fell. "She doesn't… You haven't told her?" Sting asked slowly.

Gajeel swallowed. "No."

Sting looked to be processing this information. "How has she not noticed?"

"She knows something's up," Gajeel said, "but she doesn't know it's cancer. I don't know what she thinks it is."

Rogue took in a sharp breath and blew it out slowly. "Shit… Why haven't you told her? Don't you think that's unfair?"

"I know, it was stupid," Gajeel growled. "I don't need a fuckin' lecture, alright?"

Sting touched his shoulder and handed him another beer when he reached for one, shooting Rogue a look. "I'm not judging. Rogue isn't either. But why haven't you?"

There were so many reasons, Gajeel had lost count. The biggest was that he was scared. Of losing her, of receiving her pity. Damn, this was hard enough. Gajeel took a swig of beer, then another, and another, until the bottle was empty. Two beers in and he was already feeling a bit drunk. He wasn't supposed to be drinking—Porlyusica had scolded him when she found out. But it was a fast way to numb emotions that shouldn't be there. And with as sick as he was, it didn't take much alcohol to wreck him.

Sting and Rogue were patient as they watched Gajeel think over his words. This wasn't an easy topic. And it wasn't every day that he came to work unannounced and actually told them things. This was a first for all of them, so they were patient and understanding. After several minutes, Gajeel forced a laugh—it was humorless, empty and cold.

"I'll lose her."

Sting and Rogue both looked at him, shocked. That wasn't the answer they were expecting.

Gajeel growled and threw the empty bottle across the room, knocking over a vase of flowers on the counter. Rogue winced when the bottle collided with the wall and shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces, the vase crashing to the ground and scattering snow white flowers across the floor. He looked back at Gajeel, who was bent over, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair.

"Whoa—" Sting set his beer down. "Why the hell would you think that?"

"Open your fucking eyes, Sting!" Sting's mouth snapped shut, and Gajeel mentally slapped himself for losing his temper. Dickhead, it's not his fault. Quieter, he added, "I've been lying to her for months. I didn't plan on keeping it from her! But every time I tell someone..." Gajeel swallowed his words, looking away.

Sting's expression mirrored understanding, as if he read Gajeel's thoughts.

"The longer I waited, the harder it got," Gajeel grit out. "Don't you think that when she finds out I've been lying to her all this time she'll be pissed? Who would want to stick around with someone who won't make it another year? Who'd wanna stick around with someone who lies? Who will only hurt them in the end?" Gajeel slurred the last words, and Sting reached out and gently pried the third beer from his hands. He shouldn't have had two, but three… "I'm not worth her time if I'm dying!"

His friends were quiet, Sting desperately trying to find something comforting to say. But Gajeel knew—once he told Levy, she'd be out the door.

"This is ridiculous."

They looked up at Rogue, who'd stood and walked to the door. Sting looked alarmed. "Rogue?"

He looked over his shoulder. "You don't give her enough credit. She's crazy about you—she'll understand. Of course she'll be mad, wouldn't you?"

Gajeel looked dumbfounded.

"She'll be pissed, and she probably won't talk to you for a bit, but she's not going anywhere." Rogue flashed him a small smile. "I can guarantee that."

Sting looked over at Gajeel and sighed, standing. "Come on, let's get you home. You'll be sleeping for a week if you keep going like this."

Gajeel stumbled to his feet and let Sting navigate him to the door Rogue held open. When he passed through the threshold, Rogue called his name, and he turned his head just enough to see him standing behind him.

"Thanks for telling us all that," he said. "We'll support you every step of the way."

Sting looked just as dumbfounded, and after a beat of silence, he laughed and slapped Rogue on the back. "That's the spirit. Now come on, enough of this sad shit. Let's get you home. I'm sure if we ask nicely, we can get Rogue to stop and get you some coffee and a bite to eat."

Rogue rolled his eyes. "Of course it would be me… I'll get us all something."

"Then it's settled!" Sting said. "We'll just crash at Gajeel's place! Pizza sounds good! Maybe some burritos."

Rogue balked. "Both?"

"Sure, why not? And make that coffee for our little guy, here, a double shot."

Gajeel groaned as he was pushed forward, listening to their babbling. He felt like shit, his body hurt, his chest hurt with every breath, and he was more depressed than he'd ever been, but thank god for the friends he had. Because if he were being honest with himself, he could never get through this without them.


A/N: Guys, I really can't thank you enough for all the wonderful attention this story has received. I never expected such a great response. Thank you so much!

So...please don't be mad about this chapter? haha. This chapter hurt me to write, but it's a VERY important chapter, so I had to just power through it. Thank you so much for reading :) As always, leave a review and let me know what you think! I'll see you all on Monday! Take care :)