Hope in Progress

The bed is too soft. The blankets are warm, but let cold seep into them. I know I'm not in my bed. I remember last night, but I thought I would sleep on the couch. Turns out he moved me. Dizzie, I think his name was. God, he doesn't look like a Dizzie, but hey, his parent's name who they want. I pull the covers off and find myself in an oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants. Did he change me? Wait, did we- no we didn't. If we did, I don't think I would be standing. He probably got me out of my uncomfortable clothes and changed me into his. Surprisingly, I didn't smell like him. It smelled like, well, me. I guess I'm leaving my imprint behind.

I make my way to the door and pushed it open, hearing a deep voice singing a song somewhere in the kitchen. The apartment was well furnished, but nothing to write home about. As I was walking down the hallway, there were pictures of him with a woman and a small girl. More of him with this small girl than the woman. In fact, as I kept walking, the woman slowly stopped showing up. I scrunch my eyebrows; did something happen to her? Whatever happened, it wasn't any of my business.

Looking around, I got more curious about Dizzie's living space. It's clear that he doesn't spend a lot of time at home by the thin layer of dust covering everything. The grey couch against the back wall looked more grey, the bright yellow lamp beside it seemed more dead than the couch. I doubt if that thing even turns on. The coffee table in front of the couch had magazines, newspapers, and old food sitting on it. I am so, so lucky to not have a sense of smell.

What happened here? I decided to leave my questions in this dead space and finally head into the kitchen.

The kitchen had a ginormous island covering most of the kitchen, with stools wrapped around it, a fridge at the end of it, and the stove sitting next to it. His back was to me, bent over the stove cooking eggs. He was murmuring a song under his breath. I didn't recognize it at first but then realize it's Sober by Pink. He gets a bit louder during the chorus, going from a murmur to a normal singing voice. His voice was like honey, deep and smooth, with a hint of gravel. It was a voice that belonged to a blues singer or maybe even a rock singer. His voice draws me in, like tiny hooks pulling me. I walked closer to him, to try to lose myself in his voice. Before I could get to him however, my clumsy ass tripped on the edge of a random rug underneath the sink on the island. I crashed onto the floor, alerting Dizzie. He whips around and, after a few moments, landed his gaze on me. He quirked an eyebrow and smirked. The audacity of this asshole.

"Morning," I grumbled a short 'thank you' before getting up. I dusted off the flour that somehow landed on the sweatshirt. I went to one end of the island and plopped down on one of the stools. I rested my chin on my hands and allowed my gaze to soften on him.

His back muscles flexed as he plated the eggs and reached for some salt. Some dreads fell onto the back of his neck from the very loose bun on top of his head. I never thought that a guy like him would really fit dreads, but on him, they look normal. His calloused hands sprinkled some salt before brushing it off on his boxers- WAIT HE'S ONLY IN BOXERS. Boxers that gripped his ass perfectly...like damn, it's an ass awarded after spending months and years at the gym. In fact, everything looked amazing. He didn't have the big muscles that you'd typically see on a guy like him, but just muscles that fit...him. Not big, not small, just normal. I could ogle his muscles and body all fucking day, but he just had to turn around.

His cheeky smirk never left his face as he made his way towards me and placed my plate of really good fucking eggs and some cut up strawberries. I dig in, like the hungry bitch I am, and watch as he sits down and starts eating. Before he even touched his strawberries, I was already done. He cracks a smile at the sight. "We're you really that hungry?"

"They were just that good." I leaned over to grab a paper towel. While wiping my hands, I made the mistake of looking down at his huge package. Jesus H. Christ, what type of protein powder did this guy snort in order to get that?

I then realized I was staring at a guy's dick for longer than the friendly sizing, and the certain guy was watching me the entire time. As soon as I lock onto those oh-so-fucking-beautiful blue eyes, they seem to be smiling, his smile cracked into a smirk.

Fuck, he knew I was looking at his dick. Fuckfuckfuckfuc-

"We're you checking me out?" FuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCK.

How does one answer this? I mean, he obviously KNOWS I was checking him out, so I can't exactly lie and say, 'Oh, it was just in my line of sight man.' But at the same time, I don't know if he's gonna **** me, so I can't say, 'Hell yes daddy, take me on this countertop RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW.' Jesus, where's smooth February when you really need him?

"What did you say about countertops?" He heard me.

"Uhhhh, nothing countertop related left my mouth in this very...moment..." Smooth, as always. I felt heat flooding my cheeks all the way to the tips of my ears. I bit my lip as he still had that smirk on his face. He let out a long 'mhm' before grabbing both our plates and walking around to the sink, which was right in front of me. On the way through, he pulled his bun out, and all his dreads fell beautifully over his face. Like, he makes dreads fashionable. His cocoa biceps glisten in the sunlight framing him as he washes the dishes, and all I could do is watch. I forgot all about my doctor's appointment. The fact that I was possibly dying. All I could look at was the dark angel washing the dishes in front of me.

After he's done, he places his hands on either end of the sink and looks back at me. He is hunting in my eyes, trying to find something. As I do the same, we both found ourselves sinking...sinking...sinking... Him in molten gold, and me in an infinite blue sea.

You are going to leave soon.

He won't matter.

He doesn't care.

"I have to go." I walked out the door. He doesn't follow me. I walk out onto the long hallway to the elevator and bolted to it before he changed his mind. I have a promise to Niko. He's probably worried anyway.

God, do I have some explaining to do.

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He doesn't say a word. The entire drive there, not one little word. It scared me, typical Niko would probably be reprimanding me about staying at a stranger's house, wearing said stranger's clothes, having no fucking shoes on, but nothing. His eyes are blank and unfocused; he kept on biting his lips while looking for the hospital's sign.

"I'm fine, really, I didn't-"

"It doesn't matter. You promised me you'd do this." We pulled into the Riverside parking lot and walked up to the door. After waiting for a bit, Dr. Martinez walked out to greet us. I awkwardly shook his hand while he just hugged Niko and rubbed his back.

"Oh, sorry Feb, this is my primo, Alec." Right, I forgot his cousin was a doctor. I just didn't know it was him. I never got to see most of his family. He waved his hand while I just nodded shyly.

"Hey there. You must be February, right?" He pointed a finger at me as if to ask for confirmation.

"Yep, wouldn't be anyone else." I looked over at Niko, who seriously looked on the verge of tears. He was still smiling though; he knew cancer couldn't take away my charms. Alec walked ahead of us while we followed shortly after. There was zero fucking way I was getting lost in a hospital.

"So, February, I know you've had SCLC for a little over a year now, yes?" We reached an all too familiar room. It even smelled like a doctor's office.

"Yeah." I sat down in a leather chair to the left side of his desk, while Niko sunk into the right side. He turned to look at me and smiled a tight-lipped smile, grabbing my right hand. He squeezed it softly. He sensed I was shaking.

He pulled out my chart, something I've seen too many times. He flipped through it, probably seeing the multiple failed surgeries, the cancer growth over the past year, the multiple drugs I've been on. He just shook his head as he read it. A single tear fell down Niko's face, and I rubbed it off. This is our third doctor, and he was hoping his cousin would be able to help, considering this is what he specializes in. He ran a hand over his mouth before placing my file back down. He looked back up at me.

"Looking over your progress, the cancer cells seem to have multiplied more, now spreading to your brain. In all honesty, there isn't much we can do. The treatment plan your past doctors have put you on, it did little to nothing." Yeah, don't you think I know that jackass? "Formalities aside, I really don't know what else we can do. If we try more chemo, it might make the cancer more aggressive. We cannot operate until the amount of cancer cells decrease. All we can do now is try a lesser form of your old treatment plan. Less chemo visits and I will give you the immunotherapy drug Opdivo, see if that decreases the pain. Speaking of, have you felt any pain or shortness of breath?"

Every fucking day.

"Not too often, maybe like once a day."

Alec just shakes his head and murmurs, "How can this be happening to a kid like you? You're in such good health, how-?" He looks back up at me, determination in his eyes.

I've seen it before, and it never happens.

Just tell me when I die.

"Come back in a week, and tell me if there are any changes." He stands up and pulls Niko to the side, probably explaining the treatment into more detail. I walk out of the office and retrace my steps back to the front. I pull open the door, the idiot he forgot to lock it, and sit down into my seat. I put my head into my hands, willing myself to not think. Because if I do, I'll break, and I can't. Not to Niko. My phone buzzes on the dash. I grab it and turn it on. An unknown number flashed across my screen, again. I tap it twice and open my phone.

Unknown number: Hey February

Me: Who are you?

Unknown number: It's Dizzie

Me: Oh

Me: I don't remember giving you my number...

Dizzie: You practically shoved it down my pants

Oh.

I remember slightly how when we got off his motorcycle, I drunkenly wrote down my number and shoved it down his pants, complimenting his dick. I mean, don't get me wrong, he had a nice package, but he didn't need to hear that come out of my drunk ass mouth.

Me: Yeah, sorry if I groped you

Dizzie: Nah, it's good

Me: U sure?

Dizzie: Yep

Another message went through, but I didn't get to see it as Niko opened the car and started it. Tears were running down his cheeks, but he just looked dead ahead. I ruled out talking to him and looked out my car window.