Faster Than the Speed of Chemo: Chapter Two
Title: Faster Than the Speed of Chemo (2/?) Author: manaisabasterd Word count: Warnings: PG13 for now. AU. Modern Times. Pairing: Erik/Charles. Summary: Charles has a brain tumor. And his roommate really needs his own TiVo. Notes: Alternating chapters have different authors. Chapter Two is by a friend. She does all the Erik povs.
Laughing at The Blind
There's only one entrance in this place. Of course there's the backroom entrance just behind the counter, but the effort to get there wouldn't be worth the revelation that it probably leads to a dead end. That just leaves the entrance in the front. No windows and far too many people. Probably somewhere around twenty in this cramped space. But that's just a guess.
Malls always did make my skin crawl.
What do you even buy a 21 year old that has it all? I just came to the bookstore out of habit. I don't even know Raven all that well. Just what Charles has told me and what I've gathered from our interactions. She's smart, but not obviously so. She's attractive, which she is very conscious of.
But her passions and interests? Didn't seem all that important.
I turn round a bookshelf and stumble into the medical section. The doctor pictures on the covers make me rub my jaw. But goddamn it because it shows weakness. And weakness is unacceptable. Scanning the merchandise, a title catches my eye. 50 Cocktail Recipes and Hangover Remedies.
Educational.
Practical.
Humorous.
Perfect.
I'm sure she'll appreciate it, and Charles, that faggot, will benefit from it as well.
My feet are tapping. I'm giving the people, about six in this line, annoyed looks. It's been a good ten minutes and I'm kicking myself for not allowing for more shopping time. I get up to the register and the cashier looks as annoyed as I do. Probably because he's the only one working in this damned store and it's packed. Probably because people have been giving him hell. His pose is completely defensive, his shoulders squared and face tilted downward.
"Hello sir would you like to apply for a store credit card and get twenty percent off your purchase?" It's mumbled.
"No, thank you."
"That'll be twenty, fifty-seven."
I hand over the cash. It's exact. I don't even wait for my receipt and stroll out hurriedly. I only have fifteen minutes to get downtown and class was going to start soon.
I love motorcycles. The pure adrenaline rush and power boarders on animalistic. It's intoxicating. So are the vibrations that travel up my arms from the internal combustion engine. So is weaving in and out of traffic at law-breaking speeds just so I can get to a biology class.
Ridiculous.
Luckily law enforcement seems lax in this city unless it involves life and death or anything overly dramatic that can become fodder for a rotten reality show.
Oh. Just ran a red light. Good thing traffic in this goddamned place never moves.
Thanks to that I'll get there with two minutes to spare. Adequate time to make a mad dash toward room 302. The flow of those numbers is soothing. 302. Just rolls right off the tongue.
Someone's parked in my spot. Gonna have to confront one of the neighbors.
Now I have to search for parking and cut off a good minute from my two. Good thing I've spent every morning since I turned fourteen jogging. My legs were built for situations like this. Three blocks in one minute? I always did love a challenge.
Sprinting feels good. Gets my limbs pushing their boundaries. Makes me stronger. Relieves my stress.
I'm actually quite impressed with myself. I made it three blocks, two hallways, and one corner in a minute and 15 seconds. Right on time.
"Hey Erik." Raven waves for me to sit to her right, what with Hank already at her left. "That was cutting it pretty close, what were you doing?" My panting's pretty heavy.
"Just getting in my daily exercise." She smiles, and it's absolutely beautiful. "Least I beat Charles. Where is he anyway?"
"Yeah, I don't know, usually he's here prepping for class a good thirty minutes prior, but, I don't know, wouldn't even give me a ride." She looked over at hank and smiled. "Hank had to give me a ride in his Honda."
The damn boy blushed. Actually blushed. It's disgusting. "No problem, you were on the way anyway."
Grow a backbone.
"Sorry, I'm late class I had some business to attend to." Speak of the devil. He looks shaken. Voice sounds tight. A little like last night.
Wonder what's eating him this time. Haven't seen him like this since I caught him watching Star Trek: The Next Generation in his boxers. That was embarrassing for both of us.
He rushes to put down his books and bag, his fingers shaking in their hurriedness. Looks like a cold animal. "Open your books to 154, and look at the second diagram illustrating the gene". The sound of pages turning fills the room and a picture of a double helix stares back up at me. "Delightful, isn't it?"
I snort. "Riveting, really."
"Please refrain from interrupting me, Mr. Lansharr. Oh, no. It's not like that. Go ahead Sean."
"I was just wondering what time you're doing the study group Wednesday?" I decide to ignore Charles's shortness at the moment. Most likely he's suffering from his girlish constitution. I know I am.
"Actually, we will have to move the day to Thursday if that can work with the majority. I have some unexpected things to take care of." That catches my attention. Far as I knew Charles had absolutely nothing to do Wednesday.
"What are you doing than, Charles? You've haven't mentioned anything."" Raven says. It's very frank of her. I like it.
"Nothing important. Some school stuff, need to finish a paper." Bullshit.
"We had a paper? I don't remember anything, oh shit, don't tell me-" I start cringing from the desperation in Hank's tone. Really, it's too much.
"Oh, no. It's for my seminar on how the apple in the Garden of Eden was most likely a pomegranate."
That's a lie. He was too hesitant, doesn't even look like he believes it himself. But Hank and the others aren't as perceptive as me. They haven't lived with Charles for three years. Except Raven, but like I said, perception is key.
"Sounds pretentious as fuck." Yes, yes it does.
"And irrelevant."
"That's graduate school for you." Now I'm sure he's lying. His manic giggles are like a polygraph.
"Well, let's finish up with the current chapter and then we'll end early." He's avoiding my eyes. I can feel the annoyance rise up, but it's soon sated with genetic jargon and alleles. Recessive alleles and dominant ones. Widow's peak and green eyes are recessive. Too bad for me. If I want offspring that will resemble me, the safest course would be to mate with a woman with the same attributes. But, a widow's peak on a woman doesn't seem all that attractive. That leaves out my hairline.
Too bad, would've made my children all the more attractive.
I walk with Charles out of room 302. The air's nice.
"God, I'm exhausted." I stretch up my arms, feeling the truth of the statement. Maybe that sprint was a bad idea. Maybe I should've actually sprung for a parking permit at the school. "Nap before work, I guess. What you up to tonight?" I figure I might as well start digging. I want to know what's up with the lying routine.
"Just going to look through some pap-oh, god-I need to buy Raven her birthday present still." He gets bumped by another student. No one ever bumps into me.
"Yeah, about that. Need help with that surprise party on Thursday?"
"What party?" That throws me. I'm pretty sure that's what this was all about.
"The one that's a surprise." I'm giving him a condescending look. He just looks confused. "What the hell are you doing on Wednesday then?"
"Oh, yeah the surprise party. Yeah, I'll need help." He looks away, brooding like the theatrical individual he is.
Our steps are almost match for match. His strides seem reluctant though. The conversations been dropped and he doesn't try to say anything more. Neither do I.
I have nothing to say.
I brush sweat off my face. The heat from the tungsten electrode is stifling. So is the slow pace that I have to work at for safety reasons. But that's the price you pay for being qualified enough to use a GTAW process.
Lorna's working a few benches away. "How long have you been here Lorna?"
"Uhh, since two I think." She's welding together two crossbeams.
"Take a break damnit. Don't need you collapsing on the torches. This place can't handle anymore workers' comp."
"I'm fine. Stop acting all fatherly. It doesn't suit you." She smiles and it lifts my heart a bit. She reminds me of Ruth.
"Suit yourself. I'm not squeamish. Perfectly fine with scraping your face off that metal."
She turns off the torch. "Ah, fine." She rips off her mask and gloves.
"Glad you saw it my way."
" Jesus, you manage us better than Arty." Joseph comes up from behind and hands me a bottle of water.
"I'm a natural leader, they should promote me." It's a joke. But I actually mean it.
"Don't get such a big head." He pats me on the back and goes back to work. "You're off in ten right? Have a goodnight."
"Yeah you too. Make sure Lorna doesn't run herself into the ground." I strip off my gloves and clean up the bench.
When I get home Charles is in his room. I walk over and open the door.
"Hey watcha-"
"Ah, your home." He jumps and quickly closes his laptop. That's suspicious.
"What are you looking at Charles?"
"Nothing of import."
I cross my arms.
"Goodnight, Erik." The tone is forceful. Very unlike Charles. I walk out and toward my own room.
Probably porn anyway. Or even worse.
One of Alex's research papers.
"A vicars and tarts party?"
"Yes. And I was thinking that it could be switched around, just to give it that extra zap." I roll my eyes.
"Figures you'd change up the gender norms."
"Well Erik, I am after all just dying to dress up like a tart." It's obviously sarcastic. Probably true on some level though.
"What bar are we getting? That Irish place down the street's pretty good, but I doubt they'd welcome a bunch of gussied up coeds."
"Thought of that already. I booked an alcove at a club on 2nd and West. Not too far, and the location promises an array of individuals for flirtation purposes." His brows are going crazy in an up and down motion that's supposed to be suggestive.
"They alright with the keg?"
"Yep, long as we pay a small deposit for it."
"You certainly are prepared."
"Well it is my sister's birthday. Can't let her down on the big two-one." His voice sounds strained again.
"….what'd you get for her?" It's a superficial attempt at keeping the conversation going.
"Hmm? Oh, that's a surprise." He chuckles.
"Can't wait." I settle back into the couch and let it go. I'm not going to indulge him with curiosity. Plus, it would imply that I actually care.
I search through the recordings on our TiVo, glad for this one luxury. Surprised at how I lived so long without satellite.
"Oh god Erik, not another WWII documentary."
"I deal with your obsessions." I gesture toward the poster of Albert Einstein that's framed above the fireplace. "Grant me the same leniency."
He huffs in annoyance, but drops the complaints. "The year is 1939, and war is rising within Eastern Europe…." I don't know why I love these programs so much. My dad collected Nazi memorabilia. I used to wear around the arm bands until mom caught me and started yelling. She told me never to do it again. Nazi's were terrible people.
I focus on the program. I hate thinking about her. It's sentimental, weak. And I am not weak.
"Erik, please turn that off? The genocide is starting to make me feel depressed."
I oblige. Didn't like where my thought were going anyway. I switch over to an episode of Expedition Impossible.
"With the gypsies ahead once again…."
"Why do you like this show so much?"
"You should give it a try Charles; take a break from the Amazing Race. This is infinitely better."
"Why? You like seeing men and women conquer the elements and persevere over odds? Sounds awfully inspiring. Sounds ….like it's been done."
"You mistake my reasons, Charles. I just like laughing at the blind guy."
Laughing at The Blind
There's only one entrance in this place. Of course there's the backroom entrance just behind the counter, but the effort to get there wouldn't be worth the revelation that it probably leads to a dead end. That just leaves the entrance in the front. No windows and far too many people. Probably somewhere around twenty in this cramped space. But that's just a guess.
Malls always did make my skin crawl.
What do you even buy a 21 year old that has it all? I just came to the bookstore out of habit. I don't even know Raven all that well. Just what Charles has told me and what I've gathered from our interactions. She's smart, but not obviously so. She's attractive, which she is very conscious of.
But her passions and interests? Didn't seem all that important.
I turn round a bookshelf and stumble into the medical section. The doctor pictures on the covers make me rub my jaw. But goddamn it because it shows weakness. And weakness is unacceptable. Scanning the merchandise, a title catches my eye. 50 Cocktail Recipes and Hangover Remedies.
Educational.
Practical.
Humorous.
Perfect.
I'm sure she'll appreciate it, and Charles, that faggot, will benefit from it as well.
My feet are tapping. I'm giving the people, about six in this line, annoyed looks. It's been a good ten minutes and I'm kicking myself for not allowing for more shopping time. I get up to the register and the cashier looks as annoyed as I do. Probably because he's the only one working in this damned store and it's packed. Probably because people have been giving him hell. His pose is completely defensive, his shoulders squared and face tilted downward.
"Hello sir would you like to apply for a store credit card and get twenty percent off your purchase?" It's mumbled.
"No, thank you."
"That'll be twenty, fifty-seven."
I hand over the cash. It's exact. I don't even wait for my receipt and stroll out hurriedly. I only have fifteen minutes to get downtown and class was going to start soon.
I love motorcycles. The pure adrenaline rush and power boarders on animalistic. It's intoxicating. So are the vibrations that travel up my arms from the internal combustion engine. So is weaving in and out of traffic at law-breaking speeds just so I can get to a biology class.
Ridiculous.
Luckily law enforcement seems lax in this city unless it involves life and death or anything overly dramatic that can become fodder for a rotten reality show.
Oh. Just ran a red light. Good thing traffic in this goddamned place never moves.
Thanks to that I'll get there with two minutes to spare. Adequate time to make a mad dash toward room 302. The flow of those numbers is soothing. 302. Just rolls right off the tongue.
Someone's parked in my spot. Gonna have to confront one of the neighbors.
Now I have to search for parking and cut off a good minute from my two. Good thing I've spent every morning since I turned fourteen jogging. My legs were built for situations like this. Three blocks in one minute? I always did love a challenge.
Sprinting feels good. Gets my limbs pushing their boundaries. Makes me stronger. Relieves my stress.
I'm actually quite impressed with myself. I made it three blocks, two hallways, and one corner in a minute and 15 seconds. Right on time.
"Hey Erik." Raven waves for me to sit to her right, what with Hank already at her left. "That was cutting it pretty close, what were you doing?" My panting's pretty heavy.
"Just getting in my daily exercise." She smiles, and it's absolutely beautiful. "Least I beat Charles. Where is he anyway?"
"Yeah, I don't know, usually he's here prepping for class a good thirty minutes prior, but, I don't know, wouldn't even give me a ride." She looked over at hank and smiled. "Hank had to give me a ride in his Honda."
The damn boy blushed. Actually blushed. It's disgusting. "No problem, you were on the way anyway."
Grow a backbone.
"Sorry, I'm late class I had some business to attend to." Speak of the devil. He looks shaken. Voice sounds tight. A little like last night.
Wonder what's eating him this time. Haven't seen him like this since I caught him watching Star Trek: The Next Generation in his boxers. That was embarrassing for both of us.
He rushes to put down his books and bag, his fingers shaking in their hurriedness. Looks like a cold animal. "Open your books to 154, and look at the second diagram illustrating the gene". The sound of pages turning fills the room and a picture of a double helix stares back up at me. "Delightful, isn't it?"
I snort. "Riveting, really."
"Please refrain from interrupting me, Mr. Lansharr. Oh, no. It's not like that. Go ahead Sean."
"I was just wondering what time you're doing the study group Wednesday?" I decide to ignore Charles's shortness at the moment. Most likely he's suffering from his girlish constitution. I know I am.
"Actually, we will have to move the day to Thursday if that can work with the majority. I have some unexpected things to take care of." That catches my attention. Far as I knew Charles had absolutely nothing to do Wednesday.
"What are you doing than, Charles? You've haven't mentioned anything."" Raven says. It's very frank of her. I like it.
"Nothing important. Some school stuff, need to finish a paper." Bullshit.
"We had a paper? I don't remember anything, oh shit, don't tell me-" I start cringing from the desperation in Hank's tone. Really, it's too much.
"Oh, no. It's for my seminar on how the apple in the Garden of Eden was most likely a pomegranate."
That's a lie. He was too hesitant, doesn't even look like he believes it himself. But Hank and the others aren't as perceptive as me. They haven't lived with Charles for three years. Except Raven, but like I said, perception is key.
"Sounds pretentious as fuck." Yes, yes it does.
"And irrelevant."
"That's graduate school for you." Now I'm sure he's lying. His manic giggles are like a polygraph.
"Well, let's finish up with the current chapter and then we'll end early." He's avoiding my eyes. I can feel the annoyance rise up, but it's soon sated with genetic jargon and alleles. Recessive alleles and dominant ones. Widow's peak and green eyes are recessive. Too bad for me. If I want offspring that will resemble me, the safest course would be to mate with a woman with the same attributes. But, a widow's peak on a woman doesn't seem all that attractive. That leaves out my hairline.
Too bad, would've made my children all the more attractive.
I walk with Charles out of room 302. The air's nice.
"God, I'm exhausted." I stretch up my arms, feeling the truth of the statement. Maybe that sprint was a bad idea. Maybe I should've actually sprung for a parking permit at the school. "Nap before work, I guess. What you up to tonight?" I figure I might as well start digging. I want to know what's up with the lying routine.
"Just going to look through some pap-oh, god-I need to buy Raven her birthday present still." He gets bumped by another student. No one ever bumps into me.
"Yeah, about that. Need help with that surprise party on Thursday?"
"What party?" That throws me. I'm pretty sure that's what this was all about.
"The one that's a surprise." I'm giving him a condescending look. He just looks confused. "What the hell are you doing on Wednesday then?"
"Oh, yeah the surprise party. Yeah, I'll need help." He looks away, brooding like the theatrical individual he is.
Our steps are almost match for match. His strides seem reluctant though. The conversations been dropped and he doesn't try to say anything more. Neither do I.
I have nothing to say.
I brush sweat off my face. The heat from the tungsten electrode is stifling. So is the slow pace that I have to work at for safety reasons. But that's the price you pay for being qualified enough to use a GTAW process.
Lorna's working a few benches away. "How long have you been here Lorna?"
"Uhh, since two I think." She's welding together two crossbeams.
"Take a break damnit. Don't need you collapsing on the torches. This place can't handle anymore workers' comp."
"I'm fine. Stop acting all fatherly. It doesn't suit you." She smiles and it lifts my heart a bit. She reminds me of Ruth.
"Suit yourself. I'm not squeamish. Perfectly fine with scraping your face off that metal."
She turns off the torch. "Ah, fine." She rips off her mask and gloves.
"Glad you saw it my way."
" Jesus, you manage us better than Arty." Joseph comes up from behind and hands me a bottle of water.
"I'm a natural leader, they should promote me." It's a joke. But I actually mean it.
"Don't get such a big head." He pats me on the back and goes back to work. "You're off in ten right? Have a goodnight."
"Yeah you too. Make sure Lorna doesn't run herself into the ground." I strip off my gloves and clean up the bench.
When I get home Charles is in his room. I walk over and open the door.
"Hey watcha-"
"Ah, your home." He jumps and quickly closes his laptop. That's suspicious.
"What are you looking at Charles?"
"Nothing of import."
I cross my arms.
"Goodnight, Erik." The tone is forceful. Very unlike Charles. I walk out and toward my own room.
Probably porn anyway. Or even worse.
One of Alex's research papers.
"A vicars and tarts party?"
"Yes. And I was thinking that it could be switched around, just to give it that extra zap." I roll my eyes.
"Figures you'd change up the gender norms."
"Well Erik, I am after all just dying to dress up like a tart." It's obviously sarcastic. Probably true on some level though.
"What bar are we getting? That Irish place down the street's pretty good, but I doubt they'd welcome a bunch of gussied up coeds."
"Thought of that already. I booked an alcove at a club on 2nd and West. Not too far, and the location promises an array of individuals for flirtation purposes." His brows are going crazy in an up and down motion that's supposed to be suggestive.
"They alright with the keg?"
"Yep, long as we pay a small deposit for it."
"You certainly are prepared."
"Well it is my sister's birthday. Can't let her down on the big two-one." His voice sounds strained again.
"….what'd you get for her?" It's a superficial attempt at keeping the conversation going.
"Hmm? Oh, that's a surprise." He chuckles.
"Can't wait." I settle back into the couch and let it go. I'm not going to indulge him with curiosity. Plus, it would imply that I actually care.
I search through the recordings on our TiVo, glad for this one luxury. Surprised at how I lived so long without satellite.
"Oh god Erik, not another WWII documentary."
"I deal with your obsessions." I gesture toward the poster of Albert Einstein that's framed above the fireplace. "Grant me the same leniency."
He huffs in annoyance, but drops the complaints. "The year is 1939, and war is rising within Eastern Europe…." I don't know why I love these programs so much. My dad collected Nazi memorabilia. I used to wear around the arm bands until mom caught me and started yelling. She told me never to do it again. Nazi's were terrible people.
I focus on the program. I hate thinking about her. It's sentimental, weak. And I am not weak.
"Erik, please turn that off? The genocide is starting to make me feel depressed."
I oblige. Didn't like where my thought were going anyway. I switch over to an episode of Expedition Impossible.
"With the gypsies ahead once again…."
"Why do you like this show so much?"
"You should give it a try Charles; take a break from the Amazing Race. This is infinitely better."
"Why? You like seeing men and women conquer the elements and persevere over odds? Sounds awfully inspiring. Sounds ….like it's been done."
"You mistake my reasons, Charles. I just like laughing at the blind guy."