Chapter Text
Bianca didn't need help. She did not need help. The sentence became a mantra. She was fine. She did not need help. She could get through this on her own.
She had repeated the sentiments daily since she got the news. She woke up with an aching body and repeated it. She was fine. She had repeated it after the Doctor gave her the news. She could do this on her own. She had repeated them when she had to go in for her first treatment. She didn't need anyone's help. She had repeated it as she crouched over the toilet, dry heaving senselessly since she couldn't eat anyways. She did not need help. She had repeated it with tears in her eyes as her hair began falling out. She was fine. She repeated it as she shaved her head since there was no point in trying to pin it under the new wig she had started wearing anymore. She could get through this. She could get through the Cancer. She could get through the Chemo Treatments. She could beat this all on her own. No one needed to know she was weak.
The news had dazed her. She had sat in silence as the Doctor went over the specifics with her. Breast Cancer. Stage Three. Several Options. Radiation possibly ineffective. Chemo more likely to help. Small bits of the information filed themselves away inside her brain, but Bianca herself was racing a hurricane in a completely different way than she had ever experienced before.
She had gotten second opinions, third opinions. and then the Chemo had started. Her mouth was dry, she would drink more water and laugh loudly with Courtney and Willam at lunch. She would call Adore from her touring and giggle and sigh and whisper words of love across oceans through phone lines. She didn't tell her girlfriend about it. She didn't need to be worried.
When Adore came back from touring, Bianca was already wearing a wig full time. She tried to sleep in them and woke up with Adore next to her in a panic to make sure it hadn't fallen off in the night. Eventually, she made any and every excuse to not have Adore stay the night, saying she had too much work to do, she was too tired, she wasn't feeling well, though the last was almost always true.
She missed her Dorey desperately, but she told herself it was for the best that her Rock Star Partner didn't have to worry about her small seamstress while she was trying to perform. It would be over eventually anyway. And then they could make up lost time.
So Bianca receded into herself. she focused on her work so she could forget how much her bones seemed to ache with no reprieve. She focused on her dogs, she focused on cleaning every surface in her apartment until she was too exhausted to do anything other than sleep. Then the day came when she woke up from another exhaustion induced nap to a text:
Dorey: i think we need to talk.