Work Text:
I have a tumor.
It berates me, chastizes me, antagonizes me. No matter what I say or do, it’s always there.
It lurks in the corners of my mind, the shadows of my apartment, in every fiber of my being.
Every day.
Every night.
I try my hardest to block it out, to keep myself from having to hear it, to listen to it, but it never works.
It’s a part of me.
It’s tiring, you know? Always being faced with the worst parts of me, constantly, day in and day out? Always being told what a fucking failure I am to everybody around me, and that I’ll never be anything better?
The only relief from it lately has been through Andrew.
It had been a few days since he moved into my apartment. Although it certainly felt strange to share my living space with someone else after spending so long on my own, I couldn’t deny that it wasn’t all that bad. I never realized how lonely I was until he moved in. Just having someone to relax and spend the evening with had been surprisingly pleasant.
But that’s not how it felt.
It stood behind me while I was washing my hands in the bathroom.
So he’ll accept help from you when it puts a roof over his head, but not for his game. Are you really just going to let this little parasite leech off you, for nothing in return? We’re better than this, Ivan. You deserve more than that. More than him.
I sighed. “He’s my friend. I want to help him, regardless of what I deserve or get in return.”
That answer didn’t work, of course. It never does. It doesn’t like when I try to fight it.
Helping people will only lead to you getting burned. You saw what happened to dad. That’s how this will go.
I narrowed my eyes towards it in the reflection. “I’m not pulling him out of a burning building. I’m giving him a place to stay. It isn’t comparable.”
You’re misinterpreting me on purpose. You know that. Why deny what it is?
My grip on the sink tightened as a heat began growing in my chest. “I’m not misinterpreting you, fucker. You don’t get to use dad’s death to make me feel like shit all the time. What he did has nothing to do with what I’m doing. I’m not playing with fire, I’m helping my friend.”
I’m only trying to help, Ivan. The sooner you realize that, the sooner we can get this ungrateful pest out of your apartment and move on to better things.
“HE’S NOT A GODDAMN PEST!” I swung a white-knuckled fist at where it was just standing behind me, but by the time I turned around, it was already gone. Instead, my hand slammed into the door at full force. I hissed in pain and tightly grabbed it, trying to constrict it as much as I could to keep it from hurting. “God, fuck…”
There was a knock on the bathroom door.
“Ivan? You okay in there?”
It was Andrew.
“Uh, yeah! Just… shit… I just hurt myself a little. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
“You sure? I can look at it if you want, see if you’re okay.”
Don’t patronize me. “No, I’m… I’m fine. Thank you.”
He didn’t respond right away, and I caught myself wondering if he was hoping for a different answer.
The sound of his voice stopped my train of thought. “...Alright. Well, I’m almost done with dinner. Patch yourself up, or… do whatever you need to do. Hope you’re alright.”
As I heard him walk away and return to the kitchen, I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. That hurt. A lot. That was definitely going to bruise.
By the time I finally left the bathroom after letting the pain subside, Andrew was already done cooking. Chicken breasts with sautéed vegetables, with some kind of sauce I couldn’t distinguish. One of the positives of Andrew moving in is that he’s a much better cook than I am. I can usually only manage heating up prepackaged or frozen foods, and even those sometimes don’t go to plan, unlike the stuff he makes which also seems way healthier than anything I can muster.
A thousand steps behind.
I should ask him to teach me someday.
“Well, help yourself! There should be enough here for leftovers, so have as much as you want.”
“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”
He finished loading his plate and sat down at the table. “You say that, like, every time I cook something.”
“Doesn’t stop it from being true!”
“I guess. You don’t need to thank me, though. I promise.”
“Well, I’m gonna keep saying it anyway! You deserve it.” I grabbed my food, albeit a little slow since my hand still hurt from earlier, and sat down across from Andrew. It’s nice to finally have someone else to eat with, especially since it means I finally have an excuse to eat at the table instead of just bringing it back to my room.
“So, um… are you alright?” he asked.
“Pretty much, I think. I don’t really feel it anymore.” A lie.
“What happened? Cut yourself or something?”
“No, no, I just kinda… turned too fast and hit my hand on something.” Another lie.
Andrew furrowed his brows. “And what about the stuff you were saying? Not judging, but the walls are pretty thin here. I heard you talking to yourself, but I didn’t catch much. Something-something pest?”
Shit. My hand froze, fork mid-stab on a sliced carrot. I was too loud.
Don’t say anything.
“I…”
Don’t say a single word.
“Ivan?”
He’s going to fucking leave if you say anything. Keep your mouth shut.
An unbearable silence filled the room. I felt a faint wetness on my cheek.
“Ivan… are you crying?”
What a joke.
I brought my hand up to wipe my eyes. Sure enough, there were tears. “Oh. I guess I am.”
“Seriously, are you okay? I’m really worried.”
Don’t listen to him. He’s lying. It’s just a courtesy.
“Can we… talk about this later?”
Andrew frowned a little, which only made my stomach sink deeper than it already had.
“Okay.”
The rest of dinner passed in silence, but my thoughts were as loud as ever. They’re rarely ever silent, of course, but especially then was the loudest they’ve been in a while. It kept telling me these horrible things about myself, about Andrew, everything. More than once they suggested horrible, horrible things.
I can’t.
I hardly even registered myself moving to sit on the couch after I was done eating, Andrew following shortly after. It wasn’t until he softly rested his hand on my shoulder that I was able to snap out of it.
“Ivan?”
I blinked. I could almost feel a vignette around my vision from how anxious I was.
“You wanna talk now?”
Don’t.
“I’m scared.”
“I hope you know I won’t judge you. I promise.” His hands gave mine a gentle squeeze, thankfully not enough to make it hurt, but enough to make my heart skip a beat. “I can’t force you to say anything, but… I do care about you, you know.”
He’s lying.
I tried not to focus on the feeling of his hands holding mine. “I… I know. I just don’t want you to think you have to fix me. That’s not your job.”
He frowned. “I don’t think that at all. I’m not asking because I think I have to, I’m asking because I want to.”
He was looking straight at me. Stop looking. I tried to meet his eyes, but I quickly looked away. It was too much.
“Please, just tell me, Ivan.”
I could see it in the corner of my vision. I could tell it was angry. Annoyed. Ashamed.
You’re making a mistake, Ivan.
“...Okay.”
Its vision bore a hole through me, but by the point I could feel it, I didn’t care anymore.
“There’s… a lot I need to say. You don’t have anywhere to be, right?” I half-heartedly joked.
He smiled softly. “No, I don’t think so.”
I knew it would’ve had to come out eventually— I was terrible at hiding it.
It still hurt, though.
But there was no use hiding it from Andrew. I wanted to trust him.
So I told him everything.
The tumor and the hallucinations, the constant self-hatred, self-doubt, and self-harm, everything. By the time I was done, I was barely keeping it together. Tears were streaking down my face, my eyes were red and puffy, and I was only a few words away from full-blown sobbing.
Andrew didn’t say anything at first. For a moment, I was scared that I did exactly what it said I would. That I was about to drive him away for good.
That’s when he pulled me close and hugged me.
It was tight, tighter than the grip the tumor tried so hard to keep me in.
And that’s when I couldn’t stop myself anymore.
I buried my face into his shoulder and sobbed. I held him tight, like he'd be pulled away at any second, and I cried. I cried for what felt like hours.
He wasn’t saying anything, he just gently maneuvered us until we were both laying down, him with his back against the couch’s armrest, and me draped over him like a blanket with my head held firm against his shoulder. He gently rubbed my back, which only made me cry even harder. God, I couldn’t even remember the last time I was treated so tenderly by someone.
By the end of it all, I felt like I used every last bit of water in my body on tears. Andrew’s shirt was stained with them, forming a large wet spot where I was crying into his shoulder, with streaks of wetness running down across the front.
When I pulled away, I was an absolute mess. It felt embarrassing to let him see me like this.
But he didn’t seem to mind.
He finally spoke, “I’m… so sorry, Ivan. I had no idea.”
I tried to respond, but another sob forced its way out instead.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, I’m here.”
I resorted to burying my face in his chest. He gently held his hand on the back of my head, while the other kept rubbing circles into my back.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that. That sounds terrible.” He paused. “I… do kinda relate to it, though. The self-doubt and stuff. I know how it feels and it sucks so bad. But… you’re still here, and that’s what matters, right?”
I try my best to nod, but it was hard in the position I was in.
“I… wish I was better with words. I don’t feel like I’m saying everything I want to. But I hope you understand what I’m saying. You’re not alone, Ivan. I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”
I noticed that I wasn’t hearing anything from it anymore. I wasn’t sure if it was just watching me, expressionless yet still disgusted by me, or if it was actually gone. Either way, it felt nice, regardless of if it was temporary or not.
God knows I needed a break from it all.
“Do you want some water?”
I nodded.
“Alright. I need you to get off of me real quick, though. I’ll be back, I promise.”
I… believed him.
I pushed myself off of him and sat up, wiping my eyes and my nose. Andrew gave me a pat on the shoulder before he stood up, and I heard him walk into the kitchen. He returned just a short minute later with a glass of water, which I emptied in a single sip.
“Damn, you were thirsty, huh? Do you need another glass?”
“N-no, I think I’m good. Thank you.” I looked at him, eyes still puffy. “Can… can I hug you again?”
He smiled. “Of course.”
I crawled over and hugged him again, quickly settling into the same position we were in previously. He felt so warm.
Everything was still disorienting, though. I hardly even noticed I was speaking again until the next three words slipped out of my mouth.
“I love you.”
My heart stopped.
Fuck, I couldn’t believe I said that.
I pushed myself off of him and looked him in the eyes, terror filling my own. “Shit, no, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-”
I was cut off by the feeling of his hand on my face.
“I love you too, Ivan.”