Fighting Dragons With You

Cora sat patiently in the uncomfortably itchy hospital gown, her mother squeezing her hand so hard Cora could see her skin turning purple. She smiled lightly, tentatively, as if afraid that if she smiled it would all be a dream. Her mother looked up at her with teary eyes & a shaky smile. A doctor sat before them, a smile on his face as well as he told them the good news.

Remission.

That one word lifted a weight, that Cora had gotten so used to she hardly knew was there, off her chest, making her take a deep breath of air in and out. Finally, she could let loose and live life normally like any other 22 year old girl could. Finally, she could go for a while without wondering if tomorrow would be her last day. Finally, she could dream, really dream, and achieve more than just living to see another day. She could be somebody.

"She.... she's really okay?" my mom choked out, tears falling from her face and onto her and her daughter's clasped hands.

"Yes. She fought a hard battle and she's won, for now. We'll keep having regular check-ups to monitor your progress and you'll still be taking some medication, but otherwise you're good to go, Cora," the doctor said brightly as he addressed Cora and her mother, getting up from his chair and tucking her thicker-than-average file under his arm as he prepared to leave.

"Can I live?" Cora asked quietly, making the doctor stop short of the door and turn around, confused.

'I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean. Of course you can live, Cora. You're in remission," he said slowly. Cora smiled softly, her eyes meeting his and he saw a look of pure innocence in them, making him smile.

"What I meant was, can I be normal? Can I go to parties and make out with guys and get drunk and then regret it the next morning and all that? Can I live, doctor," Cora asked, smiling as her eyes looked into space, wandering the possibilities of normal, a word she had rarely ever heard used in context with her since she was diagnosed at 12.

"Yes, Cora. You're free," he said, chuckling a little at her enthusiasm. he walked out of the room without another word, leaving behind a silence.

"Don't do things you'll regret, sweetie," her mother pleaded, her eyes still red from the happy crying. Cora laughed at her mom, rolling her eyes playfully.

"Don't worry, Mom. I won't regret a single thing," Cora replied, her eyes alight with mishief.
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Cora had just finished off her 3rd cup of- well, actually, she had no fucking clue what she was drinking, but she loved it! For once, she felt like people didn't look down on her for her disease. She felt empowered and confident.

"You dance?" she heard a deep voice ask, even in her tipsy state she could hear his voice perfectly clear and she smiled before she even saw him, because his Russian accent was completely sexy.

She turned quickly, stumbling a bit as she did so. His big hand caught her elbow and balanced her out, smiling a cute, dimpled smile and showing off a set of sweetly crooked teeth. She would've fallen down right then and there had he not been holding her steady. She took in his deep, dark eyes and his curly, somewhat messy hair and that smile- oh god, it gave her the chills.

"Okay?" he asked cutely, his smirk prominent as he looked into her sea-green eyes. She stared right back into his own eyes and smiled.

"I'm fine. Yeah, I'm up for dancing," she found herself saying, even though everything in her fogged up brain told her that she was getting into something she really would regret.

The Russian stranger took her hand and led the petite brunette out onto the dance floor. His hands fell to her hips as they danced in sync, grinding into each other as he placed feather light kisses on her neck. She leaned to expose her neck to him completely, and he nipped at it sharply, marking her and grinning wickedly as she looked up at him.

After a few songs, they both retreated back to the bar. Cora found herself sitting next to the big man she had just been dancing rather intimately with in an awkward silence, which the man soon broke.

"Name Evgeni, but call Geno," he introduced lightly, smiling that beautiful crooked smile and holding out his hand for her to shake. She placed her relatively tiny hand into his as she smiled too.

"Cora, Cora Jones," she said sweetly, smiling as his eyes flickered on her lips, which were glossy and perfect.

They talked for a while, about their jobs and their lives. Cora learned he played hockey for the Pittsburgh Penguins and was from Russia originally, go figure, and that he thought she was beautiful(that discovery making her blush to her roots). Geno learned that Cora had been sick for a while, but now she was better, and that she didn't know a single thing about hockey, but she loved the Pittsburgh Steelers.

For the first time since Cora had been diagnosed, she felt wanted and pretty. She decided then and there that she certainly wouldn't mind feeling like that more often.