Chapter Text
The cool eggshell white that coated the interior walls of every single hospital in the world was a rather poor choice of color to say the least. It was uninviting, anxiety-inducing, it was the same color that was used in padded rooms for psychological torture. Why would that be the universally accepted color for a place where you're supposed to receive the utmost care and comfort? They could've at least gone for a warmer white, something that didn't make your eyes feel like they were constantly burning. Perhaps beige would be more soothing. Or even a light grey would suffice.
These were the dull and dreary thoughts that Noel decided to distract himself with as he sat in his doctor's office trying to contain his shivering, wishing he had brought a thicker jacket. Amusingly, he wasn't even in a hospital, but if the results of the repetitive and mentally exhausting tests that he had to endure for weeks on end were what he thought they were, then his thoughts might as well have been mentally preparing him for what was to come.
Bouncing his leg to ignore the knot that was furiously tying itself in the pit of his stomach in anticipation, Noel was slightly startled when the doctor finally opened the door and let himself in. Noel tried to determine the results solely by his expression, but the stoic yet relaxed look on the doctor's face gave him nothing to conclude. Noel hypothesized that he was probably undefeated in poker.
"Mr. Gallagher," the doctor began before plopping himself onto his chair right across from Noel and placing the manila folder in his hands on top of a desk so comically messy, it looked like a movie prop more than anything. "Your test results are finally in."
"And?" Noel asked, giving his utmost attention to the doctor for fear that the beating of his heart in his ears would prevent him from hearing properly.
The doctor opened the manila folder, his wrinkled, sunspot covered hands grazing the very first page before he looked up at Noel with alert eyes. "I'm deeply sorry to say that the tests have confirmed that you have liver cancer. Stage 4."
Noel's breath hitched without him even realizing. As his brain processed the news, the knot in his stomach untied itself, his heart went back to beating in his chest, and his body temperature regulated. He was no longer nervous. He was just empty. He had no idea what emotion to feel. Sadness? Maybe, but the salty tears that usually spilled out when he was upset were too cozy in their ducts to come out. Anger? Maybe, but the usual fire that ignited in his chest whenever he was angry seemed to not have enough petrol to fuel it right now. Shock? Maybe, but his body felt as though it had been injected with Novocaine, completely numb from feeling anything at all. The words "liver cancer" and "stage 4" flashed on repeat in his head over and over again like a film reel. The more they played in his mind, the less real they seemed.
The doctor said nothing as he waited for Noel's inevitable follow-up question.
"How much time have I got left?"
"It's hard to say exactly. The average life expectancy for someone with stage 4 liver cancer without treatment is approximately 4 months. With treatment however, that number is bumped up to about a year and a half. There are even some cases where people have lived upwards of 5 years past their diagnosis with treatment." The doctor scanned the warm, freshly printed papers in his hands. "With you however, the cancer is very aggressive, and it's already beginning to spread to other parts of the body." The doctor hesitated, the smacking of his lips and his drawn out breaths were the only sounds filling the room when he wasn't speaking. "From the looks of it, with treatment I'd say you have a year left to live."
A year. 12 months. 365 days, 8760 hours. 525,600 minutes. 31,536,000 seconds. 31,535,959 seconds. 31,535,958 seconds.
In the 57 years that Noel had existed, he thought of life as a way to pass time. As a way to make something for himself out of what he was given and see what came out of it. But now, in the blink of an eye, Noel's perspective on life had completely changed. Life was now nothing but a ticking time bomb. A heartless, untouchable clock whose sole purpose was to count down the months, days, hours, minutes, and seconds until he became nothing but a cold lifeless corpse plopped into a box and thrown underground, envious of the lucky bastards with beating hearts and fresh blood coursing through their veins trespassing over his dirt filled, worm infested home each and every day to pay respects to their loved ones who all suffered the same ending, regardless of who they were and what they did when their lungs were still able to afford being filled with air.
Noel took a breath at last. If only he was able to calculate how many breaths he had left.
"Now, as far as treatment goes, chemotherapy would be our most suitable option, and since the cancer is spreading rather quickly, I'd like for us to begin treatment as soon as possible." The doctor scribbled something on a random piece of paper that he grabbed from the mountain of files atop his desk before averting his eyes to his computer screen and typing something unknown to Noel. "Would you be available two weeks from now to start the treatment?"
Such abruptness. Such urgency. Noel couldn't tell if this eager attitude declared that his cancer was so bad that treatment needed to be effective immediately or his life expectancy would be greatly reduced, or if the doctor was just simply looking out for him. Noel almost asked if they could start treatment even sooner, Heaven knows the last thing he wanted was to be in constant pain before he died, but he just gave the doctor a mere nod of the head, his mouth too dry to allow him to speak properly.
The doctor nodded back and typed on his computer once again, attempting to give Noel a smile of comfort, but Noel was far from comforted at this very moment.
The rest of the appointment and the drive home was all a blur to Noel and when he set foot into his house, while everything was the exact same as it was when he left, the atmosphere had completely changed. This was no longer the home where he could sit back, relax, and watch football when he wasn't on tour or making new music at the studio. This house was now just a small piece of his wealth that his kids were to inherit within the next year. A sharp pain pierced through Noel's heart when he thought about his children. His boys were still young. They needed their father. And how could he leave his only daughter before being able to walk her down the aisle? His poor mother would have no choice but to endure every parent's nightmare of watching their child pass away before their own time comes. His older brother, Paul, would have to face the heartbreak of losing a sibling. And. And. And...
Noel shuddered. Had it really come down to this? Did it really have to take him finding out he was going to die soon for him to finally do what needed to be done? Noel knew that this was something that needed to be done for a while. But neither him nor the other wanted to take initiative. The clock was ticking. He couldn't just not tell him. Noel wasn't that low. He would tell Noel if he was dying, right? This shouldn't have even needed to be done in the first place. He should've been there with Noel at the doctor's office for moral support. There should never have been a single day let alone 15 years where they refused to even be in the same room as each other. But doing this, he figured, would be the only thing that would bring him enough comfort to deal with all of this, assuming amends were willing to be made on both sides. And if not, then at least he knew where they both stood even in matters of life and death.
Noel picked up his phone, still in disbelief that he was really about to do this, and dialed his number. After 15 years, he still knew his number by heart, assuming he hadn't changed it by then. He would find out after 3 rings.
"Hello?" the voice called from the other side. A thick Mancunian accent with a slightly arrogant aura to it. He hadn't changed his number after all these years.
There was no backing out now. No place for fear, ego, conceit, disrespect. Only vulnerability and forgiveness. Noel's heart began to pound in his ears again. He turned up the volume on the phone, and spoke at last after taking the deepest breath of air that his lungs could afford.
"Liam?"