The Bucket List

? #6: Finish A Book Under An Hour

                “I like the cover,” she told him and he raised his eyebrows in amusement.

                “You have one hour.”

                “Please, I can finish this in way less than an hour.”

                “Fifty-nine minutes and forty seconds.”

                “Shut up.”

                “Fifty-nine minutes and thirty seconds.”

***

                Blue had been reading for exactly twenty-two minutes and forty seconds when Oliver froze and blink. She didn’t notice until he cleared his throat, forcing her to look up.

                “What? What’s wrong?”              

                “You have a little…” he gestured to his nose and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, only to rise in panic.

                “Blood?”

                “Yeah.”

Blue threw a hand over her nose, pinching it, while getting to her feet unsteadily. “Shit, shit, shit, you weren’t supposed to figure out.”

“That you get nosebleeds?” He looked at her in confusion and she wanted to laugh at how many levels of fucked up this entire situation was. “I think everyone does, Blue. Here, let me get you some water.” He started to reach out to her but she pulled away, barely registering the tiny flash of hurt that shot through his eyes. She felt terrible.

“No, no, I just…I just need the bathroom, that’s all,” Blue tried assuring him but Oliver didn’t look very assured. Still, he put a hand under her elbow gently, leading her to the bathroom. He lowered the toilet cover and sat her down on it, telling her to hold on while he got her some tissues. She grabbed them out of his palm, slapped them to her nose, and pinched the bridge of it. When she tilted her head back Oliver’s eyes seemed almost a bit green under the flourescent lights, though they were really blue-gray. Blue started rocking back and forth, a tiny bit of hysteria rising in her when the blood continued gushing out continually. It wouldn’t stop, it wouldn’t stop, it wouldn’t stop. Blue wanted it to stop. She wanted all of it to just stop.

After fifteen minutes even Oliver got concerned. “Is this normal, Blue?” he asked. “Do you get nosebleeds a lot?” He knew that it was stupid to ask questions seeing as that she wouldn’t answer, but he didn’t seem to care. Oliver kept handing Blue Kleenex and Blue kept snatching them.

Much to her relief, after twenty-four minutes, the amount reduced and then stopped completely. Blue’s nose was starting to ache. Throwing away the tissues, she leaned over the white sink, watching the red flow into the drain with the water. She could almost imagine that they were rose petals in a river instead of what they really were.

“Blue,” Oliver started softly. He hadn’t spoken for at least ten minutes and she knew that the need to say something had been gnawing at him.

“Hm,” she hummed, snorting water out of her nostrils.

“The first time I saw you, you said you didn’t have very long to live,” he said.

“Hm,” she responded.

“The third time I saw you, you said you were dying.” His voice got softer.

“Hm.”

Blue patted her face and hands dry on the yellow towel Oliver had given her.

                “Are you…are you sick?” His voice was hesitant; as if asking a question like this would break her. Blue cleared her throat and it hurt a little bit. She would try for humor, she reasoned. After all, wasn’t that what all the teachers said to do when she was in an uncomfortable position? Laugh it off?

                “In the slang sense? Hells, yeah, dude. I am sick.”

When Oliver stared down at her through lowered lashes he looked almost sad.

                “You are, aren’t you.”

                “What?” She tried for innocence this time.

                “Blue, come on. I know you act extra weird when you’re hiding something.”

He was right, of course. Lately it seemed as if Oliver knew Blue better than Blue knew herself. It kind of sucked.

                “Fine,” she sighed, giving in. “I have cancer. Boo-fucking-hoo,” she sneered and found that it was actually partly bitter: something she had thought that she had gotten past. She sighed. “Can we just—can I just finish the book now, Oliver? Please?” Oliver stared at her for a few more minutes before nodding a bit hesitantly. Despite what Blue had been expecting, his eyes remained the same. No pity, no nothing.

                “You have fourteen minutes left,” he said finally and Blue smiled. She smiled because Oliver knew when to leave something alone and she smiled because she thought that Oliver couldn’t get any more perfect. 

A/N:

Hey. Remember moi?

Yep.

SO I'VE DECIDED TO ENTER THIS INTO WATTPAD PRIZE EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO CLUE HOW IT WORKS SINCE I'M PRETTY NEW AT THIS. BUTUMYEAH.

This chapter was more of a serious one, I think? I kind of suck at this.

Dedicated to nostalgiia since her short stories are brilliant.

Vote? Comment?

-Nova