No One Belongs Here More Than You

The following week, Evgeni went in for another check up. We were both nervous, anxiously awaiting the test results. The nurses and doctors all smiled reassuringly, but we only had each other to cling to for hope as the minutes ticked by. The ring on my finger felt heavy, reminding me of how much I loved Evgeni, and how far I was willing to go for him. He had left his hat at home, and as he walked out of the house with his head held high, I felt a burst of pride. He was no longer ashamed of being sick; he had finally realized that he had to make the most of the cards he was dealt, which was what I had been telling him all along. Not that cancer was a good thing; for lack of a better word, it sucked.

"Mr. Malkin," the doctor said, opening the door. Evgeni squeezed my hand and then followed the doctor into the office. I wasn't allowed in since I was related to Evgeni, so I had to play the waiting game as usual in the office. I sat there fidgeting, waiting to find out what new round of treatment he would have to go on, or what specialist he'd have to see next...the fear that he would be told to give up always lingered in the back of my mind. My heart felt permanently lodged in my throat as I waited, and nothing could distract me from worrying about Evgeni. Every single part of my body tingled in anticipation, and I began to pace after the first twenty minutes of the appointment. Suddenly Evgeni burst out of the office, and I felt tears bubble up in my eyes. That was until I saw the look on his face. His eyes were alight with a victorious glee, and he was smiling more widely than he had in months, with exception to when he realized I had said yes to his proposal. He immediately whisked me into his arms, and hugged me so tightly that I was lifted off of the ground.

"I'm in remission nadezhda (hope)! YA sobirayusʹ bytʹ v poryadke (I'm going to be okay)!" he cried happily, and I let out a happy squeal before flinging my arms around his neck and peppering his face with kisses. He had taken to calling me "nadezhda" after I told him I wouldn't leave him because I "gave him hope". Suddenly the tears that threatened to spill over did, but I was crying out of happiness for once. If Evgeni was in remission, that meant that he would slowly recover from his treatments. My heart sung with joy and he kissed my cheeks before kissing me slowly in the lobby of the doctor's office.

The next morning I woke up tangled in both Evgeni's limbs, and his sheets. He was sleeping soundly, a smile still spread over his face. My body was sore from his version of "celebrating", but a smile was plastered to my face as well. The fact that he was on the road to recovery, coupled with the amazing sex of the previous day had left me feeling giddy. Evgeni's arms tightened around my waist as I attempted to wiggle out of the bed, and he kissed the back of my neck.

"You're not going anywhere," he muttered before resting his head on my shoulder and going back to sleep.

"You're right...I'm not," I whispered, kissing his forehead gently. I loved how his forehead wrinkled and he smiled lightly when I kissed him in his sleep; it was precious. I traced my finger along his strong jawline and finally rested my hand against his chest, where I could feel his heart thumping strongly against my palm. This was where I was meant to be.