The Wasted Days.

To make a long story short, Jared had told Lexa that if she left me, she was leaving him. That he wouldn’t take her back.

She had left bawling.

I wished deeply, that he wouldn’t have done that.

I wished that I didn’t love him.

I wished that I could make him go away.

“She wasn’t worth it anyway,” Jared mumbled. I could see in his eyes how badly he just wanted to cry. I could tell he wanted to break; that he wanted for this all to be a dream.

Because those feelings were mirrored in mine.

“Jared,” I whispered.

“What Sayers?” He asked, moving to sit on the bed with me and I waited for him to get situated against the pillows. So his left side was facing the bar, and the door, and his right was pressing gently into mine.

“You should have gone with her.” Tears fell down my face, carving rivers along my cheeks and soaking into the sheets. His arm wound itself around my shoulders and he pulled me into him so that I was crying into his smelly jersey.

I laughed.

“You should at least go change.” I smiled up at him. He looked confused. “I might just die of the stench.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Also not funny,” he pointed out, pulling me even closer for a second before climbing off of the bed, “but, fine, I’ll go change.”

I smiled gratefully at him as he left the room.

“I’ll be back before you miss me.” He yelled, already sprinting down the long hallway.

~~~

I paced across the floor, dragging the long stand for the IV along beside me. I’d already made up my mind. I just didn’t know how I’d tell the ones that would stay until the end. I didn’t know how to tell my parents, who had yet to make an appearance. I didn’t know how to tell him.

The door opened slowly and I looked up at him. He was wearing normal, and ripped, blue jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt. It was the one I’d gotten him years ago for Christmas, only to find it was three sizes too big. He took it jokingly as an insult. I smiled at the memory of him wrestling me to the ground, face red with faux anger. Him, straddling my hips as he held the huge sweat shirt above his head, yelling. Me, laughing the whole time and then him bursting as he rolled off of me.

That went on for hours, us just laying there, holding our sides in laughter.

“Did you miss me?” He asked mischievously.

“Of course,” I snickered.

“Well, I did make a pitstop.” He said, I hadn’t noticed until now, but his hands were behind his back. He pulled them around in front of himself as I stared, confused. In his hands he held a Dairy Queen cup. “Cookie Dough, just the way you like it.”

I gasped. “Can I… can I have it?” As soon as he nodded I had swiped that thing from his hands and had a spoon full in my mouth, moaning as the flavor hit my taste buds.

“I even asked a doctor.” He said, laughing as he pulled me back to the bed. “He, uh, he told me something Salem.”

I stopped eating and looked at him, suddenly all humor was gone. “Good or bad?” I asked cautiously.

“Depends on what you say.” My heart dropped. “He told me that you can get rid of it.” He whispered near my ear. He had his arm wrapped around me again.

I kept my eyes down and I found myself suddenly very interested in mixing my ice cream. He pulled it from my hands and unwrapped his arm enough to make me face him. His worried and sad eyes looked into mine and I couldn’t hold back the sob.

I didn’t want to tell him yet.

So, I shook my head.

“No, what?” Jared asked, scared. “No, you don’t want to talk about it? Or, no, you don’t want… please tell me it’s the first one.” Salt water dripped from one of his eyes and I saw myself reaching up to wipe it away. I nodded.

He could take this any way he wanted to.

“Salem…”

“I just can’t, Jare.” I whispered.

We sat in silence. I hoped he was confused. I hoped he hadn’t understood that I wouldn’t take treatment. That I was turning it down. That I didn’t want a cure. But I doubted that.

And that took a giant weight off of my shoulders. One down, two more to go.

I stole my ice cream back from him after what felt like hours of silence. He was too busy trying to burn a hole through the ceiling. “I’m sorry.” I mumbled around a mouthful of melting ice cream.

“It’s your choice… I guess.” In just those words his voice cracked. It was like the world was breaking in two. Earth shattering.

I couldn’t stand all the sadness.

I shoved a large spoon-full of my ice cream into his slightly opened mouth. He jumped before he realized what had happened. He smiled at me, forgetting for just a second about where we were and why, before snatching my spoon and doing the same back.

“Ew!” I shrieked playfully. “Jared germs!” I stuck my tongue out and squeezed my eyes shut. “That’s nasty.”

I peeked an eye open to see him smiling victoriously, filling another spoon-full. I imagined it was for himself, but soon enough he was shoving it into my mouth again. I pulled all of the ice cream off with my lips before rubbing my arm against them.

“I thought it was nasty?” He mumbled sarcastically, taking a bite for himself. I smiled. It was all I could do.

He offerend me another bite and as I was closing my mouth around the spoon, in my periphery, I saw two people soundlessly enter the room. I pulled away from it. “Not fair. You have to eat it now.” Jared objected. I glanced at him and took the bite before looking pointedly behind him.

“Oh! Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Harker.” Jared smiled and waved with the hand he held the ice cream in. For some reason, he left his other arm around my shoulders.

“I take it Lexa left already?” My mom asked.

I could see the scowl on Jared’s face. “Yes.”

“I was talking to the doctor, baby, and…” My dad started, but I cut him off by shaking my head. I didn’t want to know.

“I don’t want it. I want to just go home.” I said as strongly as I could.

“You’ll die!” My dad yelled.

And here I thought Jared would take it the hardest.

I flinched back. “I know,” I whispered.

“Then,” he sighed, running his hand through his thinning, dark hair, “then why?”

“Because I don’t want to,” I shrugged.

“You aren’t taking this seriously,” he muttered. My mom kept her eyes on the tiled floor and Jared was watching me steadily, I wasn’t sure if he was even blinking, as he tightened his hold on me. Maybe he thought that if he held on tight enough I wouldn’t go.

Maybe he thought I was a balloon. And that if he held the string tight enough I wouldn’t be able to float away; I wouldn’t die.

I wished that were true. “You could live, Salem. You could be okay!”

“I know.” It was a whisper.

“And you’d rather die than get treatment.” He stated more than asked.

“There’s a good chance of relapsing anyway,” I muttered.

My dad sighed and I watched as his head dropped. His hand found my mom’s as he slowly came over and ruffled my hair. “I better go find the doctor then.” He backed up a little bit, never taking his eyes from mine. I watched as his other hand crossed over to rest on top of both his and my moms. “So that we can get you out of here.”