Okay, lets try this again.....
Apr. 12th, 2010 10:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
writefictionTitle/Chapter: Best Friends to The End (01/?)
Author: amanda: jaclyn’s twin sister
Pairing: Taylor Hanson / OFC: Kayla
Rating: R - for mature content
P.O.V.: First Person, switches back and forth but is clearly marked.
Word Count: 1,560
Notes: This was written for The Spark Inside Spring 2010 challenge. It’s a rewrite of a hanfic I wrote my senior year of high school (2002 - 03)
Warnings: Mentions of self-harming in this chapter.
Dedication: to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
scorpio_15 for the lovely advice during the beta of the first rewrite. I LOVE YOU BB! }}!{{
Summary: When Taylor finds out his best friend is having treatment for an unknown illness, he hops a plane and races to be by her side.
CHAPTER ONE
KAYLA’S POV
September 2002
I sigh and turn off the television. Daytime TV sucks. “Kayla!”
That sounds like… But it can’t be. He’s in Tulsa.
I look up to find my best friend of three months, Taylor Hanson. “Taylor!” I exclaim excitedly, jumping up from my chair. The last time we saw each other was at my sister’s wedding in July. We talk on the phone at least twice a week and email just about every day. But there’s nothing like seeing him in person. He makes me feel so warm and happy on the inside.
Flashback
Taylor comes back to our table with our drinks, setting one down in front of me as he sits in the chair next to me. “Why the long face?” he asks.
I sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I just kind of feel like I’m losing my sister. She’s starting a brand new life with this guy that I don’t like all that much and moving all the way to Connecticut. Do you know how many hours away that is?” I ask turning to face him. My friend shakes his head. “Four hours. Four hours!”
“Four hours isn’t so bad,” Taylor replies. “I mean, it’s not like she’s moving all the way to Tulsa, or further.”
I scowl at him. “I hate you.”
Taylor reaches out to brush his fingers down the side of my cheek. “I love you too,” he says softly. His touch sends a shiver down my spine, a warm feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. “You want to dance?” he asks just as “Crazy” by Patsy Cline comes over the speakers.
I smile gently at him. “Sure.” He takes my hand and leads me out on to the dance floor.
End Flashback
Taylor quickly strides over to me and wraps me in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” I ask, hugging him back just as tightly. I bury my face in his t-shirt, inhaling deeply the scent of his cologne. It’s a comforting smell, like aroma therapy.
“I called you but you weren’t home,” he says. “I tried your cell phone, your mom’s cell, even her work and they said she was off for the day. So then I called your sister and she said you were having your first treatment. I kind of freaked and she told me where the clinic was and I took the first flight out.”
Suddenly the machine I’m hooked up to begins to beep. “What’s that?” Taylor asks in alarm.
I rub his arm gently. “Don’t worry, Tay, my bag’s just empty. Now sit,” I command. Taylor sits down in a big green recliner identical to the one that I plop down in across from him. My nurse comes in just then and turns the alarm off. I introduce Linda to Taylor and she gives him a polite smile. Then she turns to me, a much larger IV bag in her hand.
“You’ve finished your inflammation drip,” she says. “Now I’m going to set you up with your Remicade. I just have to flush out your catheter first.” I nod and watch Taylor as he nervously watches Linda stick a syringe in to the tube coming from my left hand. She flushes the catheter with saline and hangs the IV bag up. She threads the line through the machine and then attaches it to my hand. She sets the drip amount and then turns to me saying, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to check your vitals.” I nod and she leaves.
Taylor glances at the IV machine nervously. I wonder if he even knows what I’m having treatment for, if my sister even told him. He looks so worried and there‘s really no reason to be. “Tay, are you okay?” I ask.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he replies.
I shrug. “It’s not so bad.”
“What’s not so bad?” he asks. “You didn’t even tell me you were sick.”
I take the warm blanket Linda had brought in earlier and spread it out over me, reclining my chair. “Taylor, I have Crohn’s Disease,” I tell him. “It’s an inflammatory bowel disease. Basically, my immune system is attacking my large intestine. The fastest treatment is steroids. But because of my mental health issues, I can’t take them. So this is the next best option, Remicade Infusion Therapy.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, which it really isn’t.
“How long does it take to work?” Taylor asks.
“Because it’s intravenous the effect is almost instantaneous. But the course of treatment is another in two weeks and then one more in four weeks. After that you usually come in every other month for a treatment,” I explain, yawning deeply.
“For how long do you have to do that? I mean, when will you be cured?” His words make my heart sink, but I try my best not to let it show.
“There is no cure. I’m stuck with this baby for life,” I tell him jokingly.
Taylor’s face is somber as he nods. “So how long does the treatment take?” he asks.
“Three to four hours.”
Linda comes back in and wraps a blood pressure cuff around my right arm and sticks a thermometer under my tongue. A few moments later she writes down my temp and BP in my chart and leaves saying, “Back in fifteen.” I nod, my eyes closing. It’s the same old routine. Every fifteen minutes it’s a blood pressure and temperature check.
Taylor reaches out and shakes my leg. “Mm, sorry,” I say sleepily. “They gave me Benadryl as a precaution for an allergic reaction. It knocks me out.” I hear Taylor stand and then he’s tugging me up from my seat. I groan but almost instantly he’s pulling me down on to his lap, which is just fine by me. He reclines the chair and covers me back up with my warm blanket. I snuggle in to his chest as he says my name gently. “Hmm?” I’m so close to sleep.
“What happened to your arms?” he asks. Now I know he’s seen the five red slash marks on my forearms.
I sigh. “I did it. I’m getting depressed again. Dr. Angelo had to up my antidepressants.” I feel Taylor nod and pull the blanket up over my shoulder. Now that he’s seen the cuts and knows they’re self-induced, I feel guilty. I always feel guilty when I have to explain to someone that I’m cutting again. But sometimes I just can’t help it. Cutting helps when the emotional pain is too much to bear. It’s like the emotional pain is seeping out along with my blood. It’s like a spiritual cleanse. But still, I always feel guilty when I have to tell someone. I always get that frown that means I’ve disappointed someone again. It especially hurts when that someone is Taylor.
“Sleep well,” he murmurs kissing my head. I’m instantly asleep.
TAYLOR’S POV
Once Kayla’s asleep, her mother walks in the room, obviously surprised to see me. “Hey, Taylor,” she says sitting down opposite Kayla and myself.
“Hey, Suzy,” I return the greeting.
“How’d you know we were here?” she asks.
“I kind of called around,” I answer with a shrug.
Suzy nods. “Did you get to talk to her before she conked out?”
“A little. She says it’s not bad, but it can’t be cured. I think that’s kind of bad. Don’t you?”
Suzy shrugs. “It’s really her choosing whether or not she thinks it’s bad. I think she’s just trying to stay positive.”
There’s a beat of silence. “I noticed the cuts,” I tell her quietly. Suzy nods. “All she told me is that she’s getting depressed again and her medication got upped. What’s going on, Suzy?”
Suzy reclines her chair and takes a deep breath. “With everything she has to deal with on a regular basis and now this, she’s just feeling really overwhelmed. That overwhelming feeling turns in to depression. She told me it feels like seventh grade all over again. And I know she’s told you about it, but, Tay, you really can’t understand how bad it was unless you were there.” I nod, noticing the weary look that’s come over the older woman’s face. This has to be hard on her, seeing her daughter sickly and dealing with emotional issues on top of it, harming herself because of it. It’s hard on me and I don’t have it in my face every day.
“Why didn’t she tell me any of this?” I ask quietly, almost to myself.
“Probably because she didn’t tell me till just a few days ago.”
I nod again and look down at my best friend’s sleeping form. She looks so peaceful like this and I can’t help but wonder how bad things really are. I can’t help wondering what kind of turmoil she’s feeling on the inside. It must be awful if she’s willing to resort to cutting. She once told me it was a sort of release, but I still don’t understand. I can’t understand why hurting yourself would make anyone feel better. I even looked it up one time for a medical reference. It said that cutting releases endorphins like the kind that make you happy. So maybe, in a scientific way, I get it.
I sigh and close my eyes, soon falling asleep myself.
& & & & &
Stay Tuned for Chapter Two!
As always, comments are greatly appreciated!
Author: amanda: jaclyn’s twin sister
Pairing: Taylor Hanson / OFC: Kayla
Rating: R - for mature content
P.O.V.: First Person, switches back and forth but is clearly marked.
Word Count: 1,560
Notes: This was written for The Spark Inside Spring 2010 challenge. It’s a rewrite of a hanfic I wrote my senior year of high school (2002 - 03)
Warnings: Mentions of self-harming in this chapter.
Dedication: to
scorpio_15 for the lovely advice during the beta of the first rewrite. I LOVE YOU BB! }}!{{Summary: When Taylor finds out his best friend is having treatment for an unknown illness, he hops a plane and races to be by her side.
CHAPTER ONE
KAYLA’S POV
September 2002
I sigh and turn off the television. Daytime TV sucks. “Kayla!”
That sounds like… But it can’t be. He’s in Tulsa.
I look up to find my best friend of three months, Taylor Hanson. “Taylor!” I exclaim excitedly, jumping up from my chair. The last time we saw each other was at my sister’s wedding in July. We talk on the phone at least twice a week and email just about every day. But there’s nothing like seeing him in person. He makes me feel so warm and happy on the inside.
Flashback
Taylor comes back to our table with our drinks, setting one down in front of me as he sits in the chair next to me. “Why the long face?” he asks.
I sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I just kind of feel like I’m losing my sister. She’s starting a brand new life with this guy that I don’t like all that much and moving all the way to Connecticut. Do you know how many hours away that is?” I ask turning to face him. My friend shakes his head. “Four hours. Four hours!”
“Four hours isn’t so bad,” Taylor replies. “I mean, it’s not like she’s moving all the way to Tulsa, or further.”
I scowl at him. “I hate you.”
Taylor reaches out to brush his fingers down the side of my cheek. “I love you too,” he says softly. His touch sends a shiver down my spine, a warm feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. “You want to dance?” he asks just as “Crazy” by Patsy Cline comes over the speakers.
I smile gently at him. “Sure.” He takes my hand and leads me out on to the dance floor.
End Flashback
Taylor quickly strides over to me and wraps me in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?” I ask, hugging him back just as tightly. I bury my face in his t-shirt, inhaling deeply the scent of his cologne. It’s a comforting smell, like aroma therapy.
“I called you but you weren’t home,” he says. “I tried your cell phone, your mom’s cell, even her work and they said she was off for the day. So then I called your sister and she said you were having your first treatment. I kind of freaked and she told me where the clinic was and I took the first flight out.”
Suddenly the machine I’m hooked up to begins to beep. “What’s that?” Taylor asks in alarm.
I rub his arm gently. “Don’t worry, Tay, my bag’s just empty. Now sit,” I command. Taylor sits down in a big green recliner identical to the one that I plop down in across from him. My nurse comes in just then and turns the alarm off. I introduce Linda to Taylor and she gives him a polite smile. Then she turns to me, a much larger IV bag in her hand.
“You’ve finished your inflammation drip,” she says. “Now I’m going to set you up with your Remicade. I just have to flush out your catheter first.” I nod and watch Taylor as he nervously watches Linda stick a syringe in to the tube coming from my left hand. She flushes the catheter with saline and hangs the IV bag up. She threads the line through the machine and then attaches it to my hand. She sets the drip amount and then turns to me saying, “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes to check your vitals.” I nod and she leaves.
Taylor glances at the IV machine nervously. I wonder if he even knows what I’m having treatment for, if my sister even told him. He looks so worried and there‘s really no reason to be. “Tay, are you okay?” I ask.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” he replies.
I shrug. “It’s not so bad.”
“What’s not so bad?” he asks. “You didn’t even tell me you were sick.”
I take the warm blanket Linda had brought in earlier and spread it out over me, reclining my chair. “Taylor, I have Crohn’s Disease,” I tell him. “It’s an inflammatory bowel disease. Basically, my immune system is attacking my large intestine. The fastest treatment is steroids. But because of my mental health issues, I can’t take them. So this is the next best option, Remicade Infusion Therapy.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, which it really isn’t.
“How long does it take to work?” Taylor asks.
“Because it’s intravenous the effect is almost instantaneous. But the course of treatment is another in two weeks and then one more in four weeks. After that you usually come in every other month for a treatment,” I explain, yawning deeply.
“For how long do you have to do that? I mean, when will you be cured?” His words make my heart sink, but I try my best not to let it show.
“There is no cure. I’m stuck with this baby for life,” I tell him jokingly.
Taylor’s face is somber as he nods. “So how long does the treatment take?” he asks.
“Three to four hours.”
Linda comes back in and wraps a blood pressure cuff around my right arm and sticks a thermometer under my tongue. A few moments later she writes down my temp and BP in my chart and leaves saying, “Back in fifteen.” I nod, my eyes closing. It’s the same old routine. Every fifteen minutes it’s a blood pressure and temperature check.
Taylor reaches out and shakes my leg. “Mm, sorry,” I say sleepily. “They gave me Benadryl as a precaution for an allergic reaction. It knocks me out.” I hear Taylor stand and then he’s tugging me up from my seat. I groan but almost instantly he’s pulling me down on to his lap, which is just fine by me. He reclines the chair and covers me back up with my warm blanket. I snuggle in to his chest as he says my name gently. “Hmm?” I’m so close to sleep.
“What happened to your arms?” he asks. Now I know he’s seen the five red slash marks on my forearms.
I sigh. “I did it. I’m getting depressed again. Dr. Angelo had to up my antidepressants.” I feel Taylor nod and pull the blanket up over my shoulder. Now that he’s seen the cuts and knows they’re self-induced, I feel guilty. I always feel guilty when I have to explain to someone that I’m cutting again. But sometimes I just can’t help it. Cutting helps when the emotional pain is too much to bear. It’s like the emotional pain is seeping out along with my blood. It’s like a spiritual cleanse. But still, I always feel guilty when I have to tell someone. I always get that frown that means I’ve disappointed someone again. It especially hurts when that someone is Taylor.
“Sleep well,” he murmurs kissing my head. I’m instantly asleep.
TAYLOR’S POV
Once Kayla’s asleep, her mother walks in the room, obviously surprised to see me. “Hey, Taylor,” she says sitting down opposite Kayla and myself.
“Hey, Suzy,” I return the greeting.
“How’d you know we were here?” she asks.
“I kind of called around,” I answer with a shrug.
Suzy nods. “Did you get to talk to her before she conked out?”
“A little. She says it’s not bad, but it can’t be cured. I think that’s kind of bad. Don’t you?”
Suzy shrugs. “It’s really her choosing whether or not she thinks it’s bad. I think she’s just trying to stay positive.”
There’s a beat of silence. “I noticed the cuts,” I tell her quietly. Suzy nods. “All she told me is that she’s getting depressed again and her medication got upped. What’s going on, Suzy?”
Suzy reclines her chair and takes a deep breath. “With everything she has to deal with on a regular basis and now this, she’s just feeling really overwhelmed. That overwhelming feeling turns in to depression. She told me it feels like seventh grade all over again. And I know she’s told you about it, but, Tay, you really can’t understand how bad it was unless you were there.” I nod, noticing the weary look that’s come over the older woman’s face. This has to be hard on her, seeing her daughter sickly and dealing with emotional issues on top of it, harming herself because of it. It’s hard on me and I don’t have it in my face every day.
“Why didn’t she tell me any of this?” I ask quietly, almost to myself.
“Probably because she didn’t tell me till just a few days ago.”
I nod again and look down at my best friend’s sleeping form. She looks so peaceful like this and I can’t help but wonder how bad things really are. I can’t help wondering what kind of turmoil she’s feeling on the inside. It must be awful if she’s willing to resort to cutting. She once told me it was a sort of release, but I still don’t understand. I can’t understand why hurting yourself would make anyone feel better. I even looked it up one time for a medical reference. It said that cutting releases endorphins like the kind that make you happy. So maybe, in a scientific way, I get it.
I sigh and close my eyes, soon falling asleep myself.
& & & & &
Stay Tuned for Chapter Two!
As always, comments are greatly appreciated!
