For Trope Bingo: 24 Hours to Live
Jun. 29th, 2020 03:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
insomniaccoffeeTitle:It's So Cold Today, So I Get Away, And I'm Left Behind With Nothing
Prompt: 24 Hours to Live
Fandom: Metalocalypse
Relationship:Charles Foster Offdensen/Pickles the Drummer
Words: 3,930
Rating: Teen
Summary:Pickles' 'last few days to live'. Loosely follows Dethhealth
Warnings:Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Death
I'm dying, apparently. The doctor said that plain and simple. Not even the fucking common decency to talk to me in private. Just air it out in the waiting room with the rest of the guys and random jackoffs. Sure, that'll save Charlie the time to make a press statement!
The doctor took too long to know he made a mistake. After all, it was so fucking quiet after he said that. People probably began recording just so TMZ can jack off to it later or something, "Would you like to discuss more in private?"
I was still in shock 'cause can anyone blame me? Being told you're gonna rot may sound brutal but it's terrifying. The only thing I could honestly feel was anger, "Are you sure you don't wanna just discuss my whole medical history out to the public while we're at it?"
"Pickles." Charlie approached me closer, "Just go talk with him in private. Do you want me to go with you?"
I looked at the other guys and God, I wish I hadn't. They looked...sorry for me. It felt like being a kid and getting in trouble over something that I didn't do. I hated that. Even if Charlie could be as emotional as driftwood when he was at work, at least he wouldn't be looking at me like a dying Make a Wish kid.
"Okay," I answered and the doctor took us to some private office.
He explained all sorts of things that didn't make sense to me. It was full of medical terms and things that I couldn't wrap my head around and I wasn't alone in that either. All I could gather was that I got some rare illness, something that only so few people in the world have. There were already enough people who had the disease to have a name for it. Which kinda sucks because I'm pretty sure a disease named after me would be pretty cool.
"I understand that this is a lot to take in, Pickles, and I give my sincere apologies we didn't catch this sooner. Do you have any more questions?"
I had a lot of questions but I couldn't find a way to actually ask them, "Just one, I guess. How long do I have left?"
The doctor flipped through his clipboard and turned as pale as the walls behind him, "You have about 72 hours left, give or take."
I cursed under my breath at that. I could've died of a heart attack right then and there and I wanted to. 72 fucking hours? How does a doctor look at those blood and piss samples and decide that time limit on someone's life?
"Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch shortly to discuss more about this. Let's go, Pickles." Charlie stood up, ending the conversation before the doctor could speak again. He grabbed my arm before I could even make a comment too and led me out of the room.
Man, have you ever seen Charlie so mad? 'Cause I have before. But the thing about him is that you have to know him pretty well to know he's mad. If you don't know what you're looking for, you'll miss it. He'd stiffen more than usual, clench his fists and his voice would carry that small hint of malice. His anger isn't like the rest of us where we kinda just react on the spot and lash out on almost anyone. He's more calculated I guess. His anger is carried out in revenge and God, it's kinda hot.
______
Apparently, the doctor broke a rule-something called HEPA? Or was it HIPAA? Yeah, one more reason those medical shows are complete shit. A doctor isn't supposed to tell your bandmates, manager, and the rest of the damn public about it. Charlie offered to put up a lawsuit against him but I didn't see a point. I was dying either way so not like I would see the money that would come from the lawsuit. It just wasn't worth it. He talked about things on the ride home but I didn't listen. I was busy drinking whatever bottle of beer that we had in the limo and he got the hint and stopped saying anything after that.
I didn't say anything to the guys when we got back to Mordhaus and they didn't either. I wanted to pound everything I had in my room to absolute oblivion and then more. Forget everything, forget who I am, maybe even forget where I am. That'd be nice.
Charlie wouldn't give the dying man the decency and let him begin dying alone. He led me to his office and for the first time since the news broke, we were alone. He didn't have to play up that professional shit for the public and could actually be as human as the rest of us. He showed it, alright, holding me and kissing me like it was the last day on Earth because it might as well be, "I'm sorry, Pickles. I wish I could do more."
"It's okay. You can't do anything about this," I answered. I only held him because that was the only thing that felt safe to me at the moment. It felt like for just those moments I was actually safe and nothing more would happen. I wanted to cry, and scream until my voice was hoarse but I don't think I even had that energy at the moment. I felt numb. Maybe I just wasn't processing it right.
"I'm gonna try and see what I can do regardless. But I can't promise there would be a cure found in time."
I wasn't even gonna die because of the drugs I had been taken or the fact I was drinking since I was a kid. That's the funny part. I'm dying because of some rare illness that I just happened to be lucky to be born with. That's it. I had expected myself to die of anything but natural causes. ODed in a shitty motel room floor was honestly how I expected to be found dead. But no, it wouldn't be that. I'd be dying as slowly and painfully as everyone else.
"That-That's okay," I said but it wasn't. It felt like something just consuming every single thought I had; I was gonna die, "...I think it's too late, anyway. God, I should've just taken the tests earlier."
"I should've made you guys take them earlier. I'm sorry," He said apologetically and I hated that he did.
"You have nothing to say sorry about, Charlie."
"I know, I know...I just wish there was more I could do, "He sighed softly, "The most we can do for now is get your affairs in order."
"God, I have to call my family, don't I?" I groaned.
"Possibly. You don't have to, you know. It's already on the Dethklok Minute. They most likely know by now."
He had a point. I checked my phone and there weren't even any texts or missed phone calls, "I know...but..."
"It's about your nephew, is it?"
"Yeah. He's the only one in my family I care about honestly."
"Well, he's only a child so you can't legally give him money until he's 18. But that's still something you can do about your will."
"Yeah...there's another thing I can do-or well, you can do. Just hear me out."
______
I had to call my folks and Seth. I know I shouldn't have. But they're my family and I guess some part of me had that hope that maybe they would finally show me that they cared. That they don't see me as an ATM or just another story to tell to their friends or whoever. Maybe even an apology and saying those 'if only we had more time to realize you were actually a good son' type of scenes. I was just a bit too hopeful.
My folks gave me an earful. No sympathy or anything like that. They simply yelled at me like the disease was my own damn fault. I shoulda gone to church, shoulda not caved in to the rockstar style, all that fucking bullshit they've been screaming at me since they contacted me again.
It's kinda hard to realize how little you matter to people. I already knew they didn't but I didn't think it would actually end up going as far as carrying that to my own deathbed. If I was gonna die, I suppose it meant I didn't need to be polite. My last words to them were, "Go fuck yourselves." and it didn't make up for the years of torture 'cause of them but it made me feel a little better.
Calling Seth wasn't that much different. I had to be polite for the sake of a chance of getting to talk to my nephew one last time.
"That's rough, bro. I'm sorry." Honestly, compared to my parents, that was the nicest thing to come out of his mouth in years.
"Uh, thanks. Can you put me on the phone with Dillon?" I asked, my mouth dry.
"You're gonna put me on the will, right?" The son of a bitch asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going over the will through Charles. Just let me talk to him. Please."
"Fine. Remember; you owe me." I could hear him shout in the distance, "Hey Dill, come over here. Your uncle wants to speak to you!"
Talking with the kid was the only family member who made it tolerable to keep in contact with my family. He was quiet, nice, and definitely not someone who belonged in our family. In other words, he was treated almost the same as I was, and the fact he might get treated worse after I'm gone honestly terrifies me. I can try and make sure he's safe but I don't know to what extent. There's only so much I can do.
"Hello? Uncle Pickles?"
"Hi, Dillon. How are you?" Yeah, that was the worst way to start up a conversation.
"Everyone at school and the news are saying you're dying! Is that true? Are you really gonna die soon?"
I really underestimated the fact that maybe Seth didn't have the common decency to tell Dillon his uncle was dying in a conversation rather than figuring it out somewhere else. So much for telling the kid in a sugar-coated way, "Yes, I am. I'm sorry you had to figure that out through that way. I should've called earlier."
"But you can't die! Can't they find medicine or a cure?"
"I'm afraid not or if they did it'd be too late for me. I'm actually dying," I spoke and I swear I could already hear him begin to cry.
I can't comfort the kid through a damn phone line. I can't talk with him what happens when I die and about heaven or whatever the fuck his parents are raising him to believe in. I had such a limited amount of time left. I couldn't do anything to help him and I wish I had earlier. Though, I had tried before. I just 'legally' couldn't do anything else while Seth and Amber were still alive (and might I add that at least Amber is decent). I couldn't remember the last time I saw Dil that wasn't in photos and that's what ended up hurting the most. I wish I got a chance to see him one last time.
"I'm sorry, Dil. I wish I had told you this stuff earlier; I know that this hard for you to hear through the phone and not in person. I can't say anything to make this better but the most I can do is leave you with something."
"Like what?"
"Is your father in the same room?"
"No, he went to his office."
"Listen, if anything happens, I don't want you to stay at that home if you don't want to. If you need to, please try and call your Uncle Charlie, okay? He's gonna help you if you need anything. Do you have a pencil and paper?"
I gave Dillon his personal phone number. Not even Seth knew it so as long as it was kept safe, Charlie would know that it's actually him calling and not Seth using him as a front for something.
"Now memorize that number and throw out the paper or keep it safe. Don't let your parents see that. Promise me you'll call him if you need anything. No matter what anyone tries to tell you, he's going to be there for you. Will you promise that?"
"I will. I promise." He answered. He was still trying not to cry. There was never a family member I ever loved more than him and I hated the idea that I possibly was the only family member that actually loved him and not saw him as an accessory to Seth.
"Good, Dill. Thank you. That's all I could ever ask of you." There was no wave of relief as I had expected. Only a small weight lifted off my shoulders. And then fifty pounds more loaded on my back when I realized this was the last conversation with him. I had to make it count, "And Dill? Don't let anyone bring you down. You're worth a lot more than our own family. People might be just...assholes about you but don't let that bother you at all, okay? That's their problem, not yours. You're gonna do great things." For the love of all things, do not turn out like me.
"Okay," He managed to say. He sobbed on the line for a few moments as he tried to speak, "I-I'm gonna miss you, Uncle Pickles. I love you."
"I'm gonna miss you too and I love you too, Dil." I said and then hung up. I tossed the phone to the side and didn't see if it had broken or not. Phones could be replaced but I couldn't be nor could Dillon. The poor kid.
I cried. This whole death thing...it was harder than I could've ever imagined. It was easier wanting to die when you didn't realize how many people actually care about you. Now that you have and you can't do anything about dying...God, I'm so fucking selfish! I should've done more with Dillon. The kid's too good. At least he won't be entirely alone when I die.
______
The guys kinda didn't really say much at breakfast. I didn't really expect them to because even in my deathbed, the not caring rule is probably still held up higher.
Well, not to one person.
Toki eventually broke the silence by sobbing and hugging me so tightly I couldn't breathe. I had to calm him down but I didn't know how else to do it. It was hard comforting the guy who already had been through so much hell and was now seeing one of his bandmates die. He calmed down enough eventually but now that Toki cried, it had somehow given permission for the guys to look all sad and shit and it was getting rather intense.
I expected them to talk about replacing me. To ask if I had known anyone who could even replace me but they didn't really bring it up at all. They just continued looking sad, not eating their breakfast and nothing I could say really could make things better so I didn't say anything.
We didn't say anything for the rest of that breakfast. I had to tell them I had to go and that I would see them later. It felt odd saying that though. I don't even know if I'll see them later.
______
"Fuck it, let's get hitched," I said when I got to his office and Charlie looked like I had asked him to snort crack with me.
It was funny almost. I could say the stupidest things and I somehow always surprise him with it. This was no different to him and it took him a few moments to collect himself, "Pickles-"
"I mean it," I answered, "You can just officiate our wedding, can't you?"
"First, I'm not ordained for weddings. And second, I can't officiate my own wedding even if I was ordained. And third, why do you wanna get married? We had gone over the will; there's really nothing else getting married would provide more security for regarding your assets as we discussed everything possible. "
"Okay yes but consider this; we love each other, I'm dying, so why not? It's gonna be as romantic as a Shakespearean tragedy."
"It's not just a bucket list thing is it?"
"No, not at all! I'm being completely serious with you."
"Pickles, I understand-"
"You don't! Do you even understand what it's like to die?!" I paused for a moment before remembering that, yes, he actually died for nine months, "Okay, you did, sorry. I'm sorry I'm just-I'm scared, Charlie. You at least got to die without knowing you were gonna die in the first place. That's all I can think about now. All I can think about are things I wish I did when I thought I had all the time in the world. Marrying you is one of the things I always wanted to do. And I'm serious about that.”
Charlie looked at me and knew I had meant it. Did we talk about marriage a few times? Yeah, in the past but I can't remember how the conversations ended. I don't remember feeling upset by it so most likely it was one of those 'wait 'til the perfect time comes' type of things.
"When I had to disappear for those nine months, I did think about that too. About how I wished that I had married you or at least told you I loved you before I left." He admitted. He rarely talked about what happened when he left. The fact he even thought about me was something he had kept secret until then.
It was basically something we both had wanted in the end. Something he had hoped would happen at a good time but it seemed like time was no longer an option, "So you'll marry me?"
"Yes, of course, I will. The only thing we can do is a quick ceremony though and I can-"
I had to laugh at that and kissed him to make him shut up, "It's okay. I'm fine with those shotgun weddings. It might be a bit too tacky for your tastes, though."
"Well, I'm marrying you so I'd say I'd get used to it." He answered and it felt like everything was normal for once.
Of course, Charlie would probably want to plan out a wedding and stuff but most likely it would just be as simplistic and rushed as our lives were. And I think that was a perfect way to describe our relationship.
______
We ended up getting married the next day. Which wasn't much of a shotgun wedding as I had expected but it was definitely rushed. We decided to not leak this to the public at all. Of course, it would raise suspicion when they find what I changed my legal last name to but that would be a problem I most likely wouldn't see.
Outside of the guys, only a few of our outside friends attended and it honestly felt so much better had we gotten enough time to have a lavish wedding and invite jackoffs we barely know other than knowing enough to invite out of obligation. If it weren't for the guys and our friends insisting on at least making it as memorable as possible, it wouldn't have been as more put-together than we had originally planned. They got the florists and chefs and wedding planners and whoever else you needed for the wedding.
I was already happy enough with that. Although, something about the guys (and even Charlie to an extent) is that they tend to go overboard with gifting. If you matter that much to them, they'd give the world if they mean it.
"There's, uh, one person who wants to see you now if it's okay," Nate said.
"Yeah, that's fine with me," I said with a shrug. I wasn't sure who else wanted to see me as we had already greeted everyone beforehand. (fuck traditional weddings, dude).
"Uncle Pickles?" I looked up to see Dillon standing there.
Neither of us could really keep ourselves as professional for a wedding as possible and we hugged tightly for the first time in-years?-he had grown up though the last time I saw him. I honestly don't know how they managed to get Dil to visit me without Seth figuring it out but they did and God, I was so thankful.
The ceremony went off as mundane and un-brutal as normal ceremonies do but I was glad for it. We got to say our vows, listened to the minister give a quick speech and we officially got married. There was the reception which was mainly just food and telling stories. And it was normal and I honestly loved it for that. It felt nice to pretend that night that I wasn't gonna die soon and that the vows would be said for nothing. I don't even know if Charlie would ever remarry, honestly. I told him it was okay but I hope he does. I wanted to make him happy, but I wouldn't be able to soon and I hope someone else will do that for me.
The night eventually ended and I had to say goodbye to the guests. The hardest part was saying goodbye to Dillon a second time. It's painful going over it the second time but I was glad we got to say a proper goodbye. A klokateer would take him afterward back to Australia and I had to hope that things would be okay for him.
Charlie and I went to his room afterward after the rest of the guys said good night. We didn't know if it'd be the last time I ever said good night to them but if it was, it was at least a good way to say goodbye. No tears or sadness, just still being drunk off a good night and hoping that there was some tomorrow or something.
And to be blunt, yeah we did fuck but that was beside the point. We laid in bed afterword with his arms around me and we didn't say anything. It's not that we ran out of words because we definitely could talk about a lot of things for hours. I just didn't want to say anything else and neither did he. It was our mutual agreement and for the number of goodbyes I had to say, it was my personal favorite.
______
I woke up earlier than expected. I laid there with Charlie's arms around me for the longest time. I didn't want to leave or do anything. I wanted to believe that it was just the first day of the rest of our lives together rather than the last days of the end of my life.
I didn't want him to wake up to me lying dead and it would probably be much easier to find my dead body anywhere that wasn't his bed. Who knows when I'd be found dead on the floor?
I quietly pulled myself from him and looked at him for possibly the last time. I kissed him softly, put on my clothes, and left the room.
I'm sorry, guys. I'm sorry, Dillon. I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm so sorry.
Prompt: 24 Hours to Live
Fandom: Metalocalypse
Relationship:Charles Foster Offdensen/Pickles the Drummer
Words: 3,930
Rating: Teen
Summary:Pickles' 'last few days to live'. Loosely follows Dethhealth
Warnings:Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Death
I'm dying, apparently. The doctor said that plain and simple. Not even the fucking common decency to talk to me in private. Just air it out in the waiting room with the rest of the guys and random jackoffs. Sure, that'll save Charlie the time to make a press statement!
The doctor took too long to know he made a mistake. After all, it was so fucking quiet after he said that. People probably began recording just so TMZ can jack off to it later or something, "Would you like to discuss more in private?"
I was still in shock 'cause can anyone blame me? Being told you're gonna rot may sound brutal but it's terrifying. The only thing I could honestly feel was anger, "Are you sure you don't wanna just discuss my whole medical history out to the public while we're at it?"
"Pickles." Charlie approached me closer, "Just go talk with him in private. Do you want me to go with you?"
I looked at the other guys and God, I wish I hadn't. They looked...sorry for me. It felt like being a kid and getting in trouble over something that I didn't do. I hated that. Even if Charlie could be as emotional as driftwood when he was at work, at least he wouldn't be looking at me like a dying Make a Wish kid.
"Okay," I answered and the doctor took us to some private office.
He explained all sorts of things that didn't make sense to me. It was full of medical terms and things that I couldn't wrap my head around and I wasn't alone in that either. All I could gather was that I got some rare illness, something that only so few people in the world have. There were already enough people who had the disease to have a name for it. Which kinda sucks because I'm pretty sure a disease named after me would be pretty cool.
"I understand that this is a lot to take in, Pickles, and I give my sincere apologies we didn't catch this sooner. Do you have any more questions?"
I had a lot of questions but I couldn't find a way to actually ask them, "Just one, I guess. How long do I have left?"
The doctor flipped through his clipboard and turned as pale as the walls behind him, "You have about 72 hours left, give or take."
I cursed under my breath at that. I could've died of a heart attack right then and there and I wanted to. 72 fucking hours? How does a doctor look at those blood and piss samples and decide that time limit on someone's life?
"Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch shortly to discuss more about this. Let's go, Pickles." Charlie stood up, ending the conversation before the doctor could speak again. He grabbed my arm before I could even make a comment too and led me out of the room.
Man, have you ever seen Charlie so mad? 'Cause I have before. But the thing about him is that you have to know him pretty well to know he's mad. If you don't know what you're looking for, you'll miss it. He'd stiffen more than usual, clench his fists and his voice would carry that small hint of malice. His anger isn't like the rest of us where we kinda just react on the spot and lash out on almost anyone. He's more calculated I guess. His anger is carried out in revenge and God, it's kinda hot.
Apparently, the doctor broke a rule-something called HEPA? Or was it HIPAA? Yeah, one more reason those medical shows are complete shit. A doctor isn't supposed to tell your bandmates, manager, and the rest of the damn public about it. Charlie offered to put up a lawsuit against him but I didn't see a point. I was dying either way so not like I would see the money that would come from the lawsuit. It just wasn't worth it. He talked about things on the ride home but I didn't listen. I was busy drinking whatever bottle of beer that we had in the limo and he got the hint and stopped saying anything after that.
I didn't say anything to the guys when we got back to Mordhaus and they didn't either. I wanted to pound everything I had in my room to absolute oblivion and then more. Forget everything, forget who I am, maybe even forget where I am. That'd be nice.
Charlie wouldn't give the dying man the decency and let him begin dying alone. He led me to his office and for the first time since the news broke, we were alone. He didn't have to play up that professional shit for the public and could actually be as human as the rest of us. He showed it, alright, holding me and kissing me like it was the last day on Earth because it might as well be, "I'm sorry, Pickles. I wish I could do more."
"It's okay. You can't do anything about this," I answered. I only held him because that was the only thing that felt safe to me at the moment. It felt like for just those moments I was actually safe and nothing more would happen. I wanted to cry, and scream until my voice was hoarse but I don't think I even had that energy at the moment. I felt numb. Maybe I just wasn't processing it right.
"I'm gonna try and see what I can do regardless. But I can't promise there would be a cure found in time."
I wasn't even gonna die because of the drugs I had been taken or the fact I was drinking since I was a kid. That's the funny part. I'm dying because of some rare illness that I just happened to be lucky to be born with. That's it. I had expected myself to die of anything but natural causes. ODed in a shitty motel room floor was honestly how I expected to be found dead. But no, it wouldn't be that. I'd be dying as slowly and painfully as everyone else.
"That-That's okay," I said but it wasn't. It felt like something just consuming every single thought I had; I was gonna die, "...I think it's too late, anyway. God, I should've just taken the tests earlier."
"I should've made you guys take them earlier. I'm sorry," He said apologetically and I hated that he did.
"You have nothing to say sorry about, Charlie."
"I know, I know...I just wish there was more I could do, "He sighed softly, "The most we can do for now is get your affairs in order."
"God, I have to call my family, don't I?" I groaned.
"Possibly. You don't have to, you know. It's already on the Dethklok Minute. They most likely know by now."
He had a point. I checked my phone and there weren't even any texts or missed phone calls, "I know...but..."
"It's about your nephew, is it?"
"Yeah. He's the only one in my family I care about honestly."
"Well, he's only a child so you can't legally give him money until he's 18. But that's still something you can do about your will."
"Yeah...there's another thing I can do-or well, you can do. Just hear me out."
I had to call my folks and Seth. I know I shouldn't have. But they're my family and I guess some part of me had that hope that maybe they would finally show me that they cared. That they don't see me as an ATM or just another story to tell to their friends or whoever. Maybe even an apology and saying those 'if only we had more time to realize you were actually a good son' type of scenes. I was just a bit too hopeful.
My folks gave me an earful. No sympathy or anything like that. They simply yelled at me like the disease was my own damn fault. I shoulda gone to church, shoulda not caved in to the rockstar style, all that fucking bullshit they've been screaming at me since they contacted me again.
It's kinda hard to realize how little you matter to people. I already knew they didn't but I didn't think it would actually end up going as far as carrying that to my own deathbed. If I was gonna die, I suppose it meant I didn't need to be polite. My last words to them were, "Go fuck yourselves." and it didn't make up for the years of torture 'cause of them but it made me feel a little better.
Calling Seth wasn't that much different. I had to be polite for the sake of a chance of getting to talk to my nephew one last time.
"That's rough, bro. I'm sorry." Honestly, compared to my parents, that was the nicest thing to come out of his mouth in years.
"Uh, thanks. Can you put me on the phone with Dillon?" I asked, my mouth dry.
"You're gonna put me on the will, right?" The son of a bitch asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm going over the will through Charles. Just let me talk to him. Please."
"Fine. Remember; you owe me." I could hear him shout in the distance, "Hey Dill, come over here. Your uncle wants to speak to you!"
Talking with the kid was the only family member who made it tolerable to keep in contact with my family. He was quiet, nice, and definitely not someone who belonged in our family. In other words, he was treated almost the same as I was, and the fact he might get treated worse after I'm gone honestly terrifies me. I can try and make sure he's safe but I don't know to what extent. There's only so much I can do.
"Hello? Uncle Pickles?"
"Hi, Dillon. How are you?" Yeah, that was the worst way to start up a conversation.
"Everyone at school and the news are saying you're dying! Is that true? Are you really gonna die soon?"
I really underestimated the fact that maybe Seth didn't have the common decency to tell Dillon his uncle was dying in a conversation rather than figuring it out somewhere else. So much for telling the kid in a sugar-coated way, "Yes, I am. I'm sorry you had to figure that out through that way. I should've called earlier."
"But you can't die! Can't they find medicine or a cure?"
"I'm afraid not or if they did it'd be too late for me. I'm actually dying," I spoke and I swear I could already hear him begin to cry.
I can't comfort the kid through a damn phone line. I can't talk with him what happens when I die and about heaven or whatever the fuck his parents are raising him to believe in. I had such a limited amount of time left. I couldn't do anything to help him and I wish I had earlier. Though, I had tried before. I just 'legally' couldn't do anything else while Seth and Amber were still alive (and might I add that at least Amber is decent). I couldn't remember the last time I saw Dil that wasn't in photos and that's what ended up hurting the most. I wish I got a chance to see him one last time.
"I'm sorry, Dil. I wish I had told you this stuff earlier; I know that this hard for you to hear through the phone and not in person. I can't say anything to make this better but the most I can do is leave you with something."
"Like what?"
"Is your father in the same room?"
"No, he went to his office."
"Listen, if anything happens, I don't want you to stay at that home if you don't want to. If you need to, please try and call your Uncle Charlie, okay? He's gonna help you if you need anything. Do you have a pencil and paper?"
I gave Dillon his personal phone number. Not even Seth knew it so as long as it was kept safe, Charlie would know that it's actually him calling and not Seth using him as a front for something.
"Now memorize that number and throw out the paper or keep it safe. Don't let your parents see that. Promise me you'll call him if you need anything. No matter what anyone tries to tell you, he's going to be there for you. Will you promise that?"
"I will. I promise." He answered. He was still trying not to cry. There was never a family member I ever loved more than him and I hated the idea that I possibly was the only family member that actually loved him and not saw him as an accessory to Seth.
"Good, Dill. Thank you. That's all I could ever ask of you." There was no wave of relief as I had expected. Only a small weight lifted off my shoulders. And then fifty pounds more loaded on my back when I realized this was the last conversation with him. I had to make it count, "And Dill? Don't let anyone bring you down. You're worth a lot more than our own family. People might be just...assholes about you but don't let that bother you at all, okay? That's their problem, not yours. You're gonna do great things." For the love of all things, do not turn out like me.
"Okay," He managed to say. He sobbed on the line for a few moments as he tried to speak, "I-I'm gonna miss you, Uncle Pickles. I love you."
"I'm gonna miss you too and I love you too, Dil." I said and then hung up. I tossed the phone to the side and didn't see if it had broken or not. Phones could be replaced but I couldn't be nor could Dillon. The poor kid.
I cried. This whole death thing...it was harder than I could've ever imagined. It was easier wanting to die when you didn't realize how many people actually care about you. Now that you have and you can't do anything about dying...God, I'm so fucking selfish! I should've done more with Dillon. The kid's too good. At least he won't be entirely alone when I die.
The guys kinda didn't really say much at breakfast. I didn't really expect them to because even in my deathbed, the not caring rule is probably still held up higher.
Well, not to one person.
Toki eventually broke the silence by sobbing and hugging me so tightly I couldn't breathe. I had to calm him down but I didn't know how else to do it. It was hard comforting the guy who already had been through so much hell and was now seeing one of his bandmates die. He calmed down enough eventually but now that Toki cried, it had somehow given permission for the guys to look all sad and shit and it was getting rather intense.
I expected them to talk about replacing me. To ask if I had known anyone who could even replace me but they didn't really bring it up at all. They just continued looking sad, not eating their breakfast and nothing I could say really could make things better so I didn't say anything.
We didn't say anything for the rest of that breakfast. I had to tell them I had to go and that I would see them later. It felt odd saying that though. I don't even know if I'll see them later.
"Fuck it, let's get hitched," I said when I got to his office and Charlie looked like I had asked him to snort crack with me.
It was funny almost. I could say the stupidest things and I somehow always surprise him with it. This was no different to him and it took him a few moments to collect himself, "Pickles-"
"I mean it," I answered, "You can just officiate our wedding, can't you?"
"First, I'm not ordained for weddings. And second, I can't officiate my own wedding even if I was ordained. And third, why do you wanna get married? We had gone over the will; there's really nothing else getting married would provide more security for regarding your assets as we discussed everything possible. "
"Okay yes but consider this; we love each other, I'm dying, so why not? It's gonna be as romantic as a Shakespearean tragedy."
"It's not just a bucket list thing is it?"
"No, not at all! I'm being completely serious with you."
"Pickles, I understand-"
"You don't! Do you even understand what it's like to die?!" I paused for a moment before remembering that, yes, he actually died for nine months, "Okay, you did, sorry. I'm sorry I'm just-I'm scared, Charlie. You at least got to die without knowing you were gonna die in the first place. That's all I can think about now. All I can think about are things I wish I did when I thought I had all the time in the world. Marrying you is one of the things I always wanted to do. And I'm serious about that.”
Charlie looked at me and knew I had meant it. Did we talk about marriage a few times? Yeah, in the past but I can't remember how the conversations ended. I don't remember feeling upset by it so most likely it was one of those 'wait 'til the perfect time comes' type of things.
"When I had to disappear for those nine months, I did think about that too. About how I wished that I had married you or at least told you I loved you before I left." He admitted. He rarely talked about what happened when he left. The fact he even thought about me was something he had kept secret until then.
It was basically something we both had wanted in the end. Something he had hoped would happen at a good time but it seemed like time was no longer an option, "So you'll marry me?"
"Yes, of course, I will. The only thing we can do is a quick ceremony though and I can-"
I had to laugh at that and kissed him to make him shut up, "It's okay. I'm fine with those shotgun weddings. It might be a bit too tacky for your tastes, though."
"Well, I'm marrying you so I'd say I'd get used to it." He answered and it felt like everything was normal for once.
Of course, Charlie would probably want to plan out a wedding and stuff but most likely it would just be as simplistic and rushed as our lives were. And I think that was a perfect way to describe our relationship.
We ended up getting married the next day. Which wasn't much of a shotgun wedding as I had expected but it was definitely rushed. We decided to not leak this to the public at all. Of course, it would raise suspicion when they find what I changed my legal last name to but that would be a problem I most likely wouldn't see.
Outside of the guys, only a few of our outside friends attended and it honestly felt so much better had we gotten enough time to have a lavish wedding and invite jackoffs we barely know other than knowing enough to invite out of obligation. If it weren't for the guys and our friends insisting on at least making it as memorable as possible, it wouldn't have been as more put-together than we had originally planned. They got the florists and chefs and wedding planners and whoever else you needed for the wedding.
I was already happy enough with that. Although, something about the guys (and even Charlie to an extent) is that they tend to go overboard with gifting. If you matter that much to them, they'd give the world if they mean it.
"There's, uh, one person who wants to see you now if it's okay," Nate said.
"Yeah, that's fine with me," I said with a shrug. I wasn't sure who else wanted to see me as we had already greeted everyone beforehand. (fuck traditional weddings, dude).
"Uncle Pickles?" I looked up to see Dillon standing there.
Neither of us could really keep ourselves as professional for a wedding as possible and we hugged tightly for the first time in-years?-he had grown up though the last time I saw him. I honestly don't know how they managed to get Dil to visit me without Seth figuring it out but they did and God, I was so thankful.
The ceremony went off as mundane and un-brutal as normal ceremonies do but I was glad for it. We got to say our vows, listened to the minister give a quick speech and we officially got married. There was the reception which was mainly just food and telling stories. And it was normal and I honestly loved it for that. It felt nice to pretend that night that I wasn't gonna die soon and that the vows would be said for nothing. I don't even know if Charlie would ever remarry, honestly. I told him it was okay but I hope he does. I wanted to make him happy, but I wouldn't be able to soon and I hope someone else will do that for me.
The night eventually ended and I had to say goodbye to the guests. The hardest part was saying goodbye to Dillon a second time. It's painful going over it the second time but I was glad we got to say a proper goodbye. A klokateer would take him afterward back to Australia and I had to hope that things would be okay for him.
Charlie and I went to his room afterward after the rest of the guys said good night. We didn't know if it'd be the last time I ever said good night to them but if it was, it was at least a good way to say goodbye. No tears or sadness, just still being drunk off a good night and hoping that there was some tomorrow or something.
And to be blunt, yeah we did fuck but that was beside the point. We laid in bed afterword with his arms around me and we didn't say anything. It's not that we ran out of words because we definitely could talk about a lot of things for hours. I just didn't want to say anything else and neither did he. It was our mutual agreement and for the number of goodbyes I had to say, it was my personal favorite.
I woke up earlier than expected. I laid there with Charlie's arms around me for the longest time. I didn't want to leave or do anything. I wanted to believe that it was just the first day of the rest of our lives together rather than the last days of the end of my life.
I didn't want him to wake up to me lying dead and it would probably be much easier to find my dead body anywhere that wasn't his bed. Who knows when I'd be found dead on the floor?
I quietly pulled myself from him and looked at him for possibly the last time. I kissed him softly, put on my clothes, and left the room.
I'm sorry, guys. I'm sorry, Dillon. I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm so sorry.