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*Before I Say Goodbye: Antonia Stokes*
One
When Mark Read woke up, a wave of dizziness hit him. Reeling slightly, Mark collapsed back against his pillow. Having just slept for twelve hours, he had to wonder why he was tired.
It wasn't the first time he'd experienced it. For nearly a month now he'd been constantly tired, and when he was awake his was plagued by constant headaches. For someone who usually had such a fire for life, it was more than a little depressing. All Mark could do at the moment was drag himself through his work with his boyband a1 and try and nap between interviews and appearances. Even fans had begun to notice, so many of them had commented on how tired Mark looked these days.
"I'm fine," Mark muttered out loud, glancing at his alarm clock and realising it was nearly midday. Realising he had a blissful day off, Mark lifted his head off his pillow once more.
The dizziness hit him again, and was soon accompanied by a throbbing headache. The pain was almost unbearable. It hit him right in the back of his head, just above the nape of his neck. It was a throbbing pain at first, that soon became a painful wave of just constant pain. He knew how the headache would hurt, because it'd been there for so long.
Mark naturally swiftly moved forward and grabbed the Nurofen off his side cabinet. Downing two tablets quickly, Mark swallowed quickly and tried to put his worries to the back of his mind.
"It's a bug," he told himself out loud. "I'll be over it soon."
Although inside, Mark knew it was something more serious. 'Bugs' didn't go on for a month, they hurt like hell for a few days and caused terrible discomfort but then they cleared up - they didn't carry on for a month.
Mark lowered his tender body out of bed. Everything ached as he moved, resulting in Mark moving slower than he normally would do. Dressing slowly, lowering his tee-shirt over his head and not bothering with a jumper for the sake of pain, he grabbed his duvet off his bed and curled it around him.
Mark's early morning routine was the same as it had been since the pain and tiredness had started. Get up, dress in as few clothes as possible and wrap his duvet around him. Then he walked downstairs, his parents would have already left, and he'd put two pieces of bread in the toaster. Then he'd make a Lemsip, and down it in one, which made him even more drowsy. He'd then take his breakfast and curl up on the sofa, and then fall asleep in front of Richard & Judy.
Mark's routine was interrupted that morning though, as his doorbell rung. Mark, not being able to walk through in to open the door, yelled "it's open!"
The door opened and Christian Ingebrigtsen stepped in.
"Hey Chris," Mark smiled. "What brings you here?"
"Concern." Christian said, not returning Mark's friendly smile. His green eyes were etched with worry as he looked Mark up and down.
"Hey," Mark said, backing away and holding his hands up. "I'm fine."
"Lie." Christian said simply, waving his car keys in Mark's faced. "I called the doctors this morning, you've got an appointment and you're going. Even if this is a bug you can be dosed up with antibiotics and be as good as new. Grab your coat, come on."
Mark gaped at Christian, but knew from the look on Christian's face he didn't need to bother arguing. Christian was going to get him in to that doctors, even if he had to drag Mark there kicking and screaming.
"Alright," Mark said tiredly.
A grin spread over Christian's face. "I'm glad I don't have to fight you. I'm doing this for your good you know, not to make me feel better."
"I know." Mark said, grabbing his house keys and pulling his coat on. He followed Christian out of his house and ignored the sudden dizzy spell that had encaptured him. He found himself in Christian's passenger seat, grasping for air. It felt like he was being starved of oxygen, like someone was gently pressing on his lungs, making each breath harder.
"This can't go on," Christian said, watching Mark gasp for breath like a fish out of water. "If just walking out of your house does this to you, how can you do dance routines? You'll kill yourself."
Mark nodded, too breathless to respond. As the countryside rolled by, Mark concentrated on his breathing. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, he managed to stabalise his breathing and inhaled longingly.
Walking to the doctors surgery from the car park was a task in itself. Mark felt exhausted and weak, and he clung on to Christian.
"C'mon man," Christian muttered. "Sit down," he said indicating to a chair. "I'll say you're here."
As Christian left Mark, now gasping again, in the waiting room, he couldn't disguise his worry. Mark was acting like an old man who was in the last months of his life. Mark had been a picture of energy when Christian had first met him, but something had struck him down. Something serious.
When Mark's name was called, he stumbled up the stairs and in to the surgery. The doctor was young, around 30, and smiled warmly at Mark.
"Hi Mark, I'm Doctor Green. Come on it, have a seat."
"Do you want me to go?" Christian asked Mark worriedly. Mark shook his head, again unable to speak for lack of breath.
"And you are?" The doctor asked, rifling through his notes.
"Christian Ingebrigtsen, I'm Mark's bandmate."
"Band mate?" Dr. Green asked, narrowing his eyes at the pair. "Oh! I recognise you now, a1 right? My daughters' a fan."
Even Mark managed a smile at this.
"Well Mark," he asked. "What seems to be the problem?"
Mark described his problems and the lack of breath. The doctor sat with his hands knitted together, nodding occasionally to tell Mark he understood.
"Any pain anywhere?" he asked when Mark had finished.
Mark glanced sidewards at Christian. He hadn't told anyone about the shooting pains in his stomach that sometimes kept him awake at night.
"Erm, I've had some pain in my stomach..."
Christian's eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Soz I didn't tell you Chris... but the pains aren't that bad."
"Well, I don't mean to worry you but unexplained pain can never be good. Where are these pains?" Dr. Green asked in his soothing medically-clipped voice.
"My stomach." Mark muttered, vaguely indicating the area.
"Well, hop on the bed and I'll see if I can feel anything. This is probably a stomach bug. That would explain the lack of breath and drop in weight."
Slowly, Mark climbed on the the surgically clean bed on the left of the room. He laid back and naturally shut his eyes. He felt the doctor lift his tee-shirt up, but he was beginning to fall asleep...
"Mark stay with me," the doctor muttered.
Watching, Christian couldn't believe the change in Mark. He watched the doctors face as he prodded and examined Mark, asking when it hurt. His face was smiling gently, and then it suddenly changed. The doctor looked worried and it showed.
"What?" Christian asked. "What's wrong?"
"Mark, your pancreas is a little inflamed. I'm going to have to see about this, are you busy today?"
Mark shook his head. He didn't know what his pancreas was but he had a vague idea that it produced insulin.
"Okay, well hop up. I'm going to refer you to the hospital for scans. Have you eaten anything in the last 24 hours?"
"No." Mark shook his head, thinking back to the toast in his toaster he hadn't eaten.
Christian stared at the doctor as he helped Mark off the table. Something was wrong, very wrong. The look on the doctors face had said it all.
After a few moments Mark and Christian were out of the surgery, Christian intent on driving Mark to the hospital. Once seated in the car, Mark laid his head back and shut his eyes. After a moment, he sat up and looked at Christian.
"It's bad isn't it?" he asked Christian. "The doctor seemed worried."
"It'll be fine, Mark." Christian said. "Don't worry."
Although Christian knew it wasn't going to be fine. Not by the look on Dr. Green's face.
*Chapter Two*
Mark sat in the hospital bed, the smell of starch making him feel slightly sick. He'd had a stressful day full of scans and tests, and now he was tired. All he wanted to do was sleep, but the doctors had promised him his results before the day was out.
Christian had made the vital calls. His parents, the rest of a1 and so on. He's been great, Mark sighed, reminding himself to thank Christian at a later date. Mark closed his eyes but tried to keep himself award.
"Mark?"
Mark's eyelids fluttered open and he focused on the figure in his doorway. He recognised the hospital doctor, but didn't recognise the second figure. A young woman dressed in a hospital coat, holding a formal looking clipboard.
Behind them, tears running down his cheeks, stood Christian.
Shit, this is bad, Mark realised with a terrifying thump.
"What's wrong with me?" He demanded off reflex.
"Mark, this is Doctor Smith, she's..."
Mark cut the male doctor off. "I don't care, tell me what's wrong."
Christian walked over to the bed and strode to Mark's side. This is really bad, Mark realised, seeing the look of defeat in Christian's eyes.
"Okay Mark," the doctor receeded. "We've had your test results back, and I'm afraid it's not good news."
I can fight it, Mark told himself.
"I'm afraid you've..." the doctor glanced downwards. "You've got pancreatic cancer."
Mark's entire world caved in. The word hung in the room like a bad smell. Cancer. Cancer killed people. People died of cancer every day... and Mark had it.
"How?" he cried. "I've never smoked or drunk alcohol in my life, not excessively. How?" he demanded.
"It's a genetic thing," the female doctor put in. "You might not have abused your body, but these things happen..."
They don't happen to me, Mark thought franticaly. I'm 22 years old for Christ sake! I can't have cancer.
Mark realised he was in denial. He did have cancer, he'd just been told. Taking a deep breath and fighting tears, Mark nodded.
"Okay, so... chemotherapy right?" he asked, almost desperately.
Silence.
No one said a word, and Mark suddenly realised he wasn't going to be cured. There would be no chemotherapy. I'm going to die.
"I'm afraid treatment isn't an option, Mark," the doctor said, the pity clear in his eyes. Mark was so young and he had everything to live for. He'd lived a healthy active life, and like he'd said, had never abused his body.
"I'm afraid your cancer is very, very developed." The doctor began. "You've been experiencing the symptons for nearly two months now, which has given the cancer time to get hold. It's spread."
Mark couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Are you telling me that you're just going to let me die? Without even trying?"
"I'm so sorry Mark," the doctor sighed. "I see people like you every day, of all ages and all cultures, but I rarely let myself pity them - "
"I don't need pity!" Mark cried. "I need a cure! I'm 22! I can't die, I just can't."
You're going too though, a voice in Mark's ear told him. The doctors know you're going to die, for God sake come out of denial and deal.
It was strange that Mark felt more alive than he ever had before. He was suddenly aware of everything as the room spun around him. Slowly, he realised he had to deal.
Blinking back tears, and relishing the grip of Christian's hand on his shoulder, Mark looked at the doctors.
"How long?"
Silence once more. Oh God, Mark thought to himself, the tears finally coming. It isn't long, I'm going to die and it's going to happen soon...
"Christian knows," the doctor said, indicating to Mark's friend. "We'll let him tell you. We'll see you in the morning Mark."
As they began to leave, Mark startled himself by saying: "Thank you."
Thank you for what? Mark's mind raced. Thank you for handing me a death sentence? Mark didn't know, but he'd felt he needed to thank the doctors. For caring and for telling him what was happening. They could have kept him in denial, but they'd not.
"Chris, when am I going to die?" Mark whispered, frightened.
"Mark, you're cancer is in stage four... which means it's impossible to treat..." Christian broke off, sobbing in to Mark's shoulder.
"This shouldn't be happening to you," Christian muttered as he and Mark embraced each other. "You're a good person, you've never done anything wrong in your life..."
Mark's own fears were overtaken by needing to comfort Christian. He held the older man, and comforted him. He was doing it because when he had.... died... he wouldn't be able to comfort Christian, so he wanted to do it whilst he was alive.
"I need to know," Mark muttered after a few minutes. "How long?"
Christian looked up and Mark suddenly realised how attractive Christian was. Not in looks, but in love. Christian was a caring person who couldn't bear to see Mark facing his own mortality, his own love for Mark was shining in Christian's eyes.
I never realised how wonderful you are, Mark thought to himself, staring at Christian as he tried to make himself speak. I always joked about your sensitive side, but now it's just what I need. Mark studied Christian's green eyes. You've been a wonderful friend, Mark though to himself and knew one day he'd tell him. Now wasn't the right time.
"Oh Mark," Christian whispered. "They said weeks..."
Mark gulped and tried to refrain from yelling out in despair. "How many weeks?"
"Two," Christian whispered. "Possibly three."
*Chapter Three*
Mark was dreaming. He was dreaming he was running along a road, and then he had two turnings. One to life, and one to his death. Any other time Mark would have chosen life, but now he was being pulled towards the road to death. As he screamed out for help, everyone came to him. a1, his family, a few fans.... but none of them could help him. He was being pulled by a magnetic hand and dragged away from everything he loved...
Mark awoke with a sweat. He squinted at his watch and realised he'd only been asleep a matter of minutes. He glanced across the dark room where Christian was asleep on the window seat, having insisted on staying the night with Mark.
Mark laid back on the bed, curling the blanket around his fingers. He wasn't in pain, for the first time in a long time, his stomach didn't hurt.
Moving suddenly, he pulled up his tee-shirt to reveal his stomach. The skin was smooth and unblemished as Mark ran his fingers over it. What's going on inside? Mark wondered, staring at his tanned skin. Underneath there, raging inside him was the cancer.
Mark sighed and pushed his tee-shirt away. The day before, he hadn't even thought about his life, he'd just thought it was his right to be alive and to live on the earth. Now, with it all taken away so quickly, he realised there was so much he hadn't done.
I've never truly been in love, Mark told himself. Well, only with music, but I've never beared my soul to a girl and loved her so much it hurts...
Mark realised he was glad. Had he been in a relationship now, the girl would have been in more pain than any cancer could cause.
Mark thought of his family. His wonderful parents who'd supported him through everything.
Mark had never been a particularly reflective person, but all of a sudden he was. He'd been shown his mortality and made to realise he wasn't going to live forever. In three weeks time, he'd be gone.
He had a lot to be reflective about.
I won't see my 23rd birthday, he thought somberly. I won't see another Christmas...
It was all too much for Mark. If I'd known, Mark thought drying his tears. If I'd known last Christmas it was too be my last, I'd have made the most of it...
If I'd known the last time I performed live on stage with a1, I'd have experienced it all so much clearer...
He thought back to the tour he'd done with a1. The hundreds of fans, the banners with his name on...
Mark suddenly thought of the fans. How would they feel? Would they know? Should they be told?
They'll have to be, Mark reasoned.
Mark thought about Ben and Paul. Asleep in their beds, unaware Mark was going to die. So far, only he and Christian knew. The next day was going to be hard. How was he going to tell him family and friends? Could he deal with them all reacting the way Christian had?
Mark had so many thoughts whirring around his mind, he felt a headache creep in. Turning to click the morphine dosage on his left, he felt a sharp stab in his side.
No! Mark thought, finally bursting in to tears. I've got three weeks left alive and I'm going to be in pain! This can't be it!
Christian's shot up from his chair.
"Mark, are you okay?"
"Why?" Mark choked, sobbing in to his pillow. "Why has this happened to me?"
At that moment, Christian would have traded places with Mark. Holding his friend close to his stomach, Christian comforted him, but there wasn't a lot he could do. He couldn't stop Mark's cancer, he couldn't save Mark's life. In three weeks - or less - time, Mark was going to die and there was nothing Christian could do about it.
"You've got every right to feel badly done by," Christian said soothingly, fighting back his own tears.
"I'm not scared," Mark whispered. "There's just so much I wanted to achieve... like with a1..."
"You're so brave," Christian whispered, hugging him tightly. "And this isn't fair. There's hundreds of bad people in the world, but you - one of the good guys - has got cancer. It's enough to make you question your faith."
That made Mark sob harder. Knowing how dedicated to religion Christian was, Mark felt a rush of gratitude.
"In case I don't get the chance to tell you," Mark whispered. "You've been a wonderful friend, and I'm so glad a1 brought us together. I couldn't have gotten through - "
Christian cut him off.
"Don't say you're goodbyes Mark, not today, not now."
As Mark nodded, Christian wondered if he'd ever be ready to say goodbye.
*Chapter Four*
The next day was a complete blur for Mark. Family members came and were told, each sobbing and looking terrified for Mark. He didn't take a lot of it in, he didn't really want to know. His mother fussed around him, looking worried and devastated.
When the day was finally over and everyone had gone, Mark laid back on his hospital pillow.
They were all so scared for me, Mark thought. It's strange, because I'm not scared of dying... I'm scared of what's going to happen to everything I leave behind.
Mark stood up, ignoring the dizziness, and walked over to the window. He pulled his blinds apart and gazed outwards. The Redwood trees were blowing in the light April breeze, the sun beginning to fade behind a housing estate. People were driving in and out of the hospital, a young girl was hobbling along on crutches...
That's all going to continue, Mark thought, his head spinning and not from dizziness this time, but I'm not going to be here to see it.
It was a strange thought, how the world would carry on even when he wasn't there. His family would still move and be around... but without him.
It was a lot to accept.
Mark saw Christian's car pull in to the hospital, and recognised Ben Adams in the front passenger seat, Paul Marazzi in the back. Ben had his head on the dashboard and looked to be crying, Paul was just staring stonily ahead. He's told them then, Mark thought, relief filling him. No one in the world knew him better than his three bandmates, telling them would have been the hardest thing.
Mark went back to bed, pulling a tee-shirt on and running a hand through his hair. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. God I look so pale, Mark said, shock registering on his face. I look so drawn and tired looking...
Mark remembered the times he'd had a healthy tan and his eyes had been so bright they seemed to have a mind of their own. That was gone now... although, his eyes did still stand out from his face, probably because his skin was so pale.
What is this thing doing to me? Mark wondered, panic-stricken. How had some disease turned a usually energetic person in to someone who resembled a 60 year old?
Mark's thoughts were cut short as his door opened and Christian, Ben and Paul stepped in.
They didn't need to speak, they just stood there in silence, united together. Ben and Paul both looked upset and weak, but Christian looked a little more composed, possibly because he'd had the time to get used to it, Mark reasoned.
"Oh Mark," Paul murmured, finally moving from the doorway and throwing his arms around Mark. Tears were soon coarsing down Paul's cheeks. Nothing needed to be said. Christian moved forward and Ben followed reluctantly, like he was holding himself back.
"What's wrong?" Mark asked, when Paul finally pulled away.
"I can't believe this is real," Ben whispered. "I just don't understand."
"No one can," Christian said gently.
They were interrupted as a nurse appeared. "Mark, I need to take your blood pressure. Boys, would you mind waiting in the family room?"
Christian led the way. The room was stark and bare, much like the rest of the hospital. The three guys sat down and stared at each other.
"He looks ill," Paul whispered.
"He is ill, idiot." Ben snapped.
"I was just commenting!" Paul snapped back.
"He's bloody dying! In a months time - or less - Mark Read isn't going to exist anymore! Of course he looks bloody ill!" Ben yelled, standing up and clenching his fists.
"Hey!" Christian yelled, grabbing Ben's jacket and yanking him down. "This isn't going to solve anything, okay? Mark is dying for Christ's sake and all you can do is argue!"
That silenced them both.
"What we need to do is just keep calm and forget our own grief when we're around Mark," Christian said calmly. "He's scared. Not of dying, but of what's going to happen to everyone - including a1. He needs us to keep our heads."
"That's a point," Paul muttered. "What is going to happen to a1?"
"Mark'll want us to continue," Ben said. "I know he will."
"Do we want to continue?" Christian asked.
"I reckon if we take a good few months off, then start again. How about we just tour, see the fans and stuff and forget singles for awhile?" Paul ventured.
"Yeah," Ben and Christian murmured in agreement.
"But we'll stay together - for Mark," Christian whispered, tears prickling in his eyes again.
"I can't believe this is happening." Ben whispered. "In a few weeks time, we'll never see Mark again..."
They sat in silence for awhile, just thinking about it. About never seeing Mark's smile, hearing his voice or laughing at one of his corny jokes.
"Then let's make the time we've got with him good." Ben said suddenly. "Let's forget he's dying and just enjoy him..." Ben's voice faltered. "While we can."
Paul and Christian nodded, neither of them able to speak.
What was happening was uncomprehendible. Totally and utterly.
*Chapter Five*
"I've got to get out of here."
The nurse re-checked Mark's pulse then opened his file. "I'll check with the doctors." She said, before turning on her heel and walking away.
To Mark's right, Christian was waking up after spending his second night on the hospital chair.
Mark felt good. He'd been given a high dosage of medication which had erased his pain and he was probably being allowed to go home.
"G'morning," Christian yawned, stretching.
"You need a shower mate," Mark laughed, then sniffed. "And some deodorant."
Christian stood up and stretched again, running a hand through his greasy hair.
"Someone's feeling better," Christian smiled. "I'm glad."
"No point in glumming around. If I've only got three weeks, it's going to be the best three weeks of my life."
Christian ignored the thump of hurt in his chest, smiling for Mark's benefit.
"Good attitude." Christian smiled. "Any idea when they're letting you out?"
"Yeah, hopefully today." Mark nodded, indicating for Christian to sit on the foot of his bed. "You didn't have to stay last night y'know,"
"I know." Christian nodded. "But I wanted too - and me, Ben and Paul are moving in to your house."
"What?!" Mark cried, laughing.
"Yup, and your mother."
"Can I just die now? I'm going to be living in hell...."
Christian punched Mark lightly and broke in to his first real grin since discovering Mark's news.
Their friendly banter was interrupted when the oncology doctor walked in.
"Morning Mark, Christian. How are you feeling, Mark?" He smiled warmly.
"Really good," Mark answered truthfully. "A little tired but the pain has gone."
The doctor broke in to a geniune smile. "I'm glad to hear that, you look better too. Well, it'll take about an hour to sort your medication out and go through it with you, it's all pain relief, but then you can go."
Mark broke in to a grin.
"I'm glad you've taken this so well," the doctor said, suddenly serious.
"Well," Mark said, his grin fading. "Yesterday was a low day, but I've realised if I've only got three weeks - they'd better be good ones."
The doctor smiled again and nodded. "Good attitude."
"Chris said that," Mark laughed.
"Chris is right then isn't he?" The doctor laughed, winking at Christian.
"Don't say that! I'll never hear the end of it!"
Chuckling, the doctor walked away with the promise of Mark's medication. Spinning to face Mark, Christian grinned.
"So, what have the next three weeks got in store for me?"
"Bungee jumping, sky dives..." Mark grinned wickedly, then it faded. "Seriously though, I'd like to do one last gig."
Christian nodded, understanding completely. "I'll get on to it a minute. I can't use my mobile in here, but there's a pay phone down the hall near the coffee machine."
"Do that then," Mark nodded, "and get me a cup of coffee whilst you're there."
"Alright, alright!" Christian said, realising Mark wanted the gig organizing that moment. He stood up and walked away.
Mark relaxed on to his pillow, then reached in to his overnight bag and picked up a pad and his pen. He began jotting down the songs he wanted to play at the gig, putting down the one's that meant the most to him.
Twenty minutes later, Christian emerged holding two cups of coffee.
"Here ya go," Christian muttered, standing it on the table next to the bed.
"I've spoken to Tim and he says it can be arranged. He reckons we should tell the fans it's the last gig and why, and..." Christian paused for dramatic effect. "He reckons we can play Wembley."
Mark dropped his pad in shock.
"Wembley?" he squeaked. It was his childhood dream coming true.
"Yep. If the fans know it'll be the last gig we'll play as a foursome, Wembley won't be a problem."
Mark's face made Christian feel a hundred times better. For a moment, he looked like the old Mark. Full of hope and optimism for life, not someone who'd been handed a death sentence. A light was shining in Mark's eyes that Christian had only ever seen when Mark was on stage.
They began repacking Mark's bag and talking excitedly about the forth coming gig.
Christian watched Mark rattle on about "Take On Me", then paused for a moment. Mark's eyes grazed Christian's, and for a moment they both realised how terribly sad the gig would be. It was the shortest second of a glance, but a glance between friends. I understand, Christian said to Mark's eyes, but not aloud. He didn't need to. Mark nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes and continuing to pack.
When Mark arrived home, he couldn't help but stare at the outside of his house and wonder how many more times he see it. You have to stop thinking like this, Mark told himself sternly. Save your goodbyes until you're really ill.
When he walked in, his mum enveloped him in a hug.
"You look well Mark," she smiled. "I'm glad."
Mark walked in to his living room to see his brothers Colin and Gary sitting there. "We wanted to come," Colin muttered, hugging his brother.
For awhile they sat: Christian, Ben, Paul, Mark's Mum, Colin, Gary and of course Mark. They just talked, about every day things. No one seemed to want to approach the subject of Mark's cancer, no one seemed to know how. So they continued talking, just babbling about anything and everything - except the one thing they were all really there for.
When Christian's mobile rung, he excused himself and walked in to the kitchen.
"Hey Chris, it's Tim."
"Heya,"
"The details are all arranged. We've prepared a press statement and the tickets go on sale tomorrow morning. The gig'll be on Saturday."
Four days, Christian told himself. It was going to be a lot of work, but they'd just have to manage to pull it off.
"I'd like you all in London tomorrow, so rehearsals and things can begin. Throw some ideas around tonight, and a car will pick you up in the morning."
"Okay," Christian said finally.
"Oh, and Chris," Tim's voice said, dropping his business persona.
"Yep?"
"Tell Mark I'm devastated by the news. We all are."
"I'll do that."
Christian hung his phone up and returned to the living room to deliver the news. It was followed by whoops and cheers of delight, and then a1 retired to Mark's room to brain storm.
"I can't," Mark faltered. "I can't do routines, I get out of breath from running up the stairs."
They all considered this, each of them fighting their own wave of sadness. They could all forget for awhile, but the reminder was there and constant. This was going to be the last time a1 stepped out on stage as the same band they'd started out as, the last time they played to their fans.
"I've got it!" Paul decared suddenly. "Remember Five Night Stand? We did an instrumental set. We can do all the old hits, you know them right?"
Mark and Christian nodded.
"Then we can do that!"
"Paul," Ben said calmly. "I think for the first time in your life you've hit on a decent idea!"
*
Mark stared at the newspaper in front of him.
Boyband member has three weeks to live
Mark Read from boyband a1, who's number one's include Same Old Brand New You and Take On Me, has been told he only has three weeks to live.
The 22-year-old star has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, which has spread to his liver and stomach. He experienced the symptons more than two months ago, but put them down to signs of overwork. Bandmate, Christian Ingebrigtsen, took him to the doctors and then to the hospital where the cancer was discovered.
Mark's cancer is so advanced he will only survive another three weeks. a1 will play one last gig at London's Wembley Arena in what is being described as a "thank you" to the fans. The remaining members, Christian, 24, Ben Adams, 19, and Paul Marazzi, 26, will continue to perform after Mark's inevitable death, but Mark wishes to play one last gig. Tickets went on sale two days ago, and distraught fans sold the gig out in under an hour.
"It's a terrible tradgedy that someone so young has contracted this disease," Mark's manager, Tim Byrne, told us.
"Mark is a very talented young man, who will be sorely missed by friends and fans a like. Everyone at Sony, espescially his bandmates, are devastated by this news. Mark has taken it well and dealt with it in his own way."
We here at The Mirror would like to express our condolences to Mark, his bandmates and family and those a1 fans whom this will effect.
Mark let out the breath he'd breath he'd been holding. The world knew. For once, the tabloids had reported a story correctly, and shown they were humans underneath their thick skins.
For the past four days, Mark had thrown his every effort in to preparing for the concert. He'd ignored the fact he was loosing weight and loosing energy as every day went by. He'd just gotten on with the job. It hadn't been easy. His energy felt like it was being drained from him with a syringe, and even the simplest of tasks had become a mountain rather than a mole hill.
Closing the paper, Mark stood up and began to dress himself. He went on stage in an hour. He could hear the fans chanting and screaming.
Mark closed his eyes.
This is the last time
I'm going to be here
Doing what I love
I just needed you to see me one more time
See me as I am
Watch me bear my soul
Because this is the last time
I'll be doing this
Then after tonight, I'll say goodbye
I just needed to do this
Before I say goodbye
Mark wasn't entirely sure where the song lyrics came from. He'd heard them a long time before, although he couldn't place when or where... but suddenly they made sense.
Mark's life was being stolen from him. A week before he hadn't known he had. A week before he hadn't known he was dying. Things just passed him by, now he was savouring every moment.
"Before I say goodbye," he muttered to the mirror in his room. He was going to do everything, before he said goodbye. He had to remember everything, because a lot things he was going to do in the next few weeks would be the last time he did them. Like tonight.
Grabbing his stage outfit, Mark stepped out of his dressing room. In the corridor outside, Ben, Paul and Christian turned round to face him.
I love you guys, Mark thought to himself.
Christian, his friend from the start. His blond hair tucked behind his ears, his green eyes shining in a mixture of excitement and sadness, his hands wrung in his microphone wire. This must be killing you, Mark thought, acutely aware of Christian's sensitivity.
Ben, his roommate and friend. Brunt of the jokes about his popularity to with the fans. He was staring at Mark, tears in the rim of his eyes.
Paul, looking like a rabbit trapped in the head lights. A constant source of fun, who now looked terrified for Mark.
Mark knew it was the right time to say his goodbyes. This was what had united them, their love of music and this was the way he should say goodbye. They had to know how much they meant to him, how he appreciated them for sharing his dreams and ambitions.
He walked forward, his own mortality staring him in his face. Christian, Ben and Paul were going to live on. For so long they'd been united by the same dream, all in the same position, now they were different and it felt strange. Mark was leaving them.
They must have known it was the right time too, as they all hugged him. Each one of them sobbing. Christian, Paul and Ben crying because they would never do this again. Never would Mark be with them as they stepped out on to the stage. Never. Mark was crying because he'd never see his bandmates, and essentially friends, develop in to people. He'd never see them marry, have children or be with them as their career climbed.
They must have stood there for a long time, because the next moment they were being called on stage.
Walking on to stage, the curtain hung over the arena, Mark felt a wave of tears hit him again. Why did he have to fufil his childhood dream when he wasn't going to live to tell his children about it? Why?
Mark sat down on his seat behind his keyboard. He was centre stage, with Christian and his guitar to his left, and Paul and Ben standing to his right.
"On your call, Mark." Ben said as loudly at he could.
"Three, two, one..."
The lights behind them blazed out and Mark began playing the keyboard piece for "Take On Me". The fans screamed and cheered, but in a more subdued way than normal. Every eye in the huge arena was on Mark.
It was over all too soon. Exhausted, Mark sung the last note of "Three Times A Lady" accompanied by Ben, and then the curtain dropped down.
It was over. Mark had completed his final wish.
"Where are you going?" Christian demanded as Mark stood up.
"For a shower?" Mark croaked.
"Oh no you don't, sit your backside down."
"That was the last song," Mark argued.
"So you think, move." Ben chipped in, moving Mark from his keyboard. "Go to the front, the stand up mike."
"Does someone wanna tell me what the hell is going on?" Mark demanded, although he did walk to what had been Ben's mike for the show.
"Mark," Paul whispered. "This is a favour from us."
The curtain lifted once more, and Mark saw tears coarsing down Christian's cheeks. When he turned, Paul was too crying, and if Ben hadn't been behind him he'd have guessed he was too.
"Erm, I know I'm meant to be singing, but I don't know what I'm singing." Mark joked in to the microphone.
The fans were silent.
"We'll put you out of your misery then," Ben said behind Mark, and Mark knew Ben was too crying from his voice. Then he began playing.
Mark's heart caved in. He was swallowed in to a black abyss and he realised what the song was. I Still Believe.
Mark turned to Paul, who had tears running silently down his cheeks. He nodded to the microphone and Mark turned back to the mike and began singing.
My song, Mark thought painfully. He'd over looked it in rehearsals, but a1 hadn't.
Everybody's always asking me why
Why I did, what I did to make you cry
Please believe me when I say what I say
I didn't mean to go away
At the time I couldn't stay
It was all too much. The last verse struck such a strong chord with all of a1, they couldn't continue playing. Christian's fingers froze on his guitar strings, Mark's voice died and Ben's knowledge of how to play the piano evaporated. The lyrics had been written for a different reason, about love, but now they meant so much in a different way.
When the song ended, all of a1 stared out in to the crowd. They were acutely aware this was the last time they'd play together as a four. A rush of memories hit them all. The tours, the singles, the highs and the lows they'd shared over the last three years. a1 weren't breaking up, but they'd never be the same again.
Ben took the microphone.
"As you are all probably aware, this is the last time a1 will be complete," he had stepped out from behind his keyboard and was slowly walking to Mark. "This isn't a decision we've made volentarily, but it's a decision we've been forced to make."
The whole audience was silent.
"Tonight is one of the best nights in a1's history, but also the worst. I'll hand over to Mark Read..."
Mark hadn't prepared himself for this, but the words came so easily he may as well have.
"The past three years have been an amazing rollercoaster of a journey," he whispered, relieved he had a microphone to play his voice around the auditorium.
"But what I'm facing is the most difficult journey yet. It may seem strange that a guy with only two weeks to live wanted to perform, but I needed to say goodbye the right way. Thank you for your eternal support, and thank you to my three bandmates and three wonderful friends."
Everything was silent. The audience, most in tears, a1 on stage. Even the sound crew and engineers had stopped.
"Thank you," Mark repeated.
The curtain closed and a1 were left alone. None of them wanted to leave the stage, this was the last time they'd be together.
"Let's go home." Mark whispered.
*Chapter Six*
"Well, that was appallingly bad." Christian muttered a week later, flicking off the TV screen. He turned to Mark for his opinion of the movie, but in what was becoming a regular occurance, Mark had fallen asleep on the sofa.
He looks so young, Christian thought as Mark slept.
Anger ripped inside Christian. Mark was so young.
For the millionth time, Christian wondered; why Mark?
Christian suddenly noticed the pad beside Mark. It was a song, he could see from the format.
Picking the pad up, Christian realised it wasn't a song. Just a simple two lines jotted down.
I need to see everything
Before I say goodbye
Tears welled in Christian's eyes for the millionth time since Mark's diagnosis.
Mark wasn't going to see everything. The last week had seen his energy and appetite decrease so dramatically, everyone had been affected by it. . Mark was dying, right in front of Christian's eyes.
Helpless. Christian felt completely and utterly helpless. There was nothing he could do to save Mark, there was nothing anyone could do anymore. He'd have done everything in his power to say Mark's life, but there was nothing left to do.
Let me go
Christian suddenly noticed the writing at the bottom of the pad. Let me go.
Mark knew he was dying, and he knew he didn't have long left.
How long? Christian wondered, stroking Mark's hair back from his face. "Do you know?" Christian wondered aloud. "Do you know when it's all going to end?
"Is it days, weeks, hours?" Christian added the last word painfully.
Christian suddenly realised that even if he did know when Mark was going to die, he was never going to be ready.
*Chapter Seven*
Mark stared out in to the countryside outside his bedroom window. The sun was setting beyond the trees, casting an eerie glow across Mark's back garden.
How many more times am I going to be able to watch this? Mark thought sadly.
He'd lost. He'd lost his fight. It hadn't been much of a fight, Mark had accepted his forth coming death so rationally. Many would have been angry, hurt or so defeated they hadn't even lasted two weeks. Not Mark, he'd kept his head up and tried to forget.
But he was still scared to go to sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he wondered if he was going to open them again. Every time he made a cup of coffee, or turned his TV on, he wondered if he'd ever do it again.
I wish I knew, Mark thought to himself. I wish someone could tell me when I'm going to die, give me an exact date...
Mark knew it was soon. He could almost feel the cancer now, eating away inside of his body. This, this thing, had taken hold of him. It had invaded him, and wasn't just eating away at his organs, but it was eating away at his soul.
When Mark looked in the mirror, he didn't recognise the person anymore.
He'd lost so much weight, his skin seemed to hang off him now, not envelope him like it should. His green-blue eyes that had once been so clear, were suddenly dull and... lifeless.
I'm dying, Mark realised.
Although he'd known, he'd always held out a hope that maybe the doctors were wrong, maybe he wasn't going to die. Now he knew he was.
Soon, I'm just not going to exist anymore.
The thought was heartbreaking. What was he going to become now?
"You're going to be a memory."
Mark had realised he was speaking aloud, but he must have been, as Ben Adams had joined him by the window.
"Is it enough?" Mark asked, "one day you'll all forget me..."
Ben looked horrified. "Mark! We will never, ever be able to forget you! You're in here, and you will be until we all die. Think of all the fans you've touched, the people's lives you've impacted on. It's not just us three and your family, it's half the world. Some of our fans won't have experienced grief before, so they'll never forget you."
Ben placed his hand on Mark's arm.
"You're impossible to forget."
They stood in silence for awhile, Ben's words absorbing in to them both. Mark realised it had to be enough, being a memory had to be it. He didn't have any other choice.
"Mark?" Ben asked after a moment.
"Yes?"
"Are you scared?"
Mark looked at Ben, but felt for the first time he was really seeing him. In his blue eyes, he saw fear for Mark and a longing for Mark to live on. Would we be having this moment if I wasn't going to die? Mark wondered. No, he decided, probably not.
"No," Mark answered truthfully. "I'm not scared of dying. Obviously I wish it had come a bit later for me... I'm only 22, but this is all part of the plan. Maybe if I didn't die now, I'd have some awful problems awaiting me."
Mark broke off, looking wistful beyond his years.
"I'll never know."
Ben's heart hurt. Mark was so young, only three years older than Ben. Ben knew for certain that in three years time he wouldn't be ready to leave the world. How was Mark dealing with it?
"This is an obvious," Ben said gently. "But I am really, really going to miss you. I'm going to miss your personality, your sense of humour, your amazing song writing... hell Mark, I'm gonna miss it all."
Mark smiled weakly. "Thank you."
"You know, when I was first diagnosed, I suddenly wanted to do all the things I hadn't done. Y'know, see it all. But I've come to realise it's the small things that matter, my family, my home..." Mark stared at Ben pensively. "My friends."
They were both overcome by such a wave of emotion, they broke their eye contact and turned back to the window. The sun had gone down now, and the moon was lighting up the garden.
Mark suddenly realised he'd accepted his fate. He wasn't fighting his mortality anymore, he'd finally managed to accept it.
"Ben," Mark whispered. "There's some things you should know."
Ben turned to face Mark, his eyes shining with tears.
"My will, it's in my cupboard in a blue bag. There's some songs in there too, use them if you like them."
Ben nodded. "Oh God, Mark. This is going to sound so strange, but..." Ben paused, gazing at Mark for a moment. "I feel like I'm saying goodbye."
"You are," Mark whispered. "In a way."
"I'm still confused," Ben admitted. "This all came on so quickly..."
Mark shook his head. "It didn't, Ben. I've been feeling bad for four months... I just didn't admit it to myself."
"You're one hell of a guy," Ben commented, tears running silently down his cheeks.
Like with Christian, Mark wanted to comfort Ben whilst he could. He wanted to hold Ben and tell him not to worry, and to let Mark go and get on with his life. He wrapped his arms around Ben.
"You have a good life," Mark whispered. "I'm just sad I won't be there to see it."
They stood in silence for a long time, horribly aware this may be the last time they held each other. They might not get another chance.
Mark's death was rushing up on him. He could almost feel it, like the hand in his dream, magnetically pulling him towards eternity. He couldn't fight it even if he tried.
"Ben, I'm tired." Mark said after awhile. He was tired, exhausted emotionally and physically.
"I'll let you sleep then," Ben whispered, stepping away from Mark. As he walked out of the room, watching Mark lower himself on to his bed, he felt a tide of sadness hit him harder than anything in his life. Mark was over his three weeks, he was playing on borrowed time.
"Goodbye, Mark."
"Bye Ben," Mark answered. For a moment, their eyes met and somehow, they both knew. This was the last time they were going to see each other, the last conversational exchange they were going to have. Neither could explain how they knew, but they did.
"Sleep well," Ben whispered, trying to hold back his tears.
"I will."
Ben closed the door behind Mark and began to walk to the room across the landing he was sharing with Christian. He didn't make it. Slumping down on the wall, his head in his hands, Ben sobbed silently. It was over. Ben knew Mark was going to die, that night. He was going to sleep well, his pain and suffering would be over.
I know, and Mark knows, Ben thought to himself. But we can't say it.
It suddenly struck Ben than Paul and Christian didn't know. They were downstairs, unaware that Mark wasn't going to awaken in the morning.
Ben went downstairs. His face must have said it all, as Paul and Christian stood up and ran in to Mark's room, without a word being exchanged.
Ben followed them in.
Mark was lying under his bed covers, his eyes closed. Ben hated himself for doing it, but he glanced at Mark's chest to see if he was still breathing. He was, his chest rising and falling as he slept.
"It's tonight, isn't it?" Paul whispered, sitting on Mark's bed and staring at him.
"He knows," Ben whispered. "He knows."
"Let's stay with him," Christian suggested, sitting next to Paul and taking Mark's hand. "Let's just let him know we care."
Ben sat on the floor, sliding down the closed door with his head in his hands. It was like waiting for a comet to hit the earth, and in a strange way, it wasn't that different. A comet was hitting them all, but in an emotional way.
They didn't talk, and Mark slept on. They had nothing to say to each other; they were all feeling exactly the same.
After an hour or so, Mark's eyelids fluttered open.
"Guys?" he whispered.
"We're here," Christian said soothingly. "We'll be here until the end."
Mark managed a weak smile. He wasn't scared anymore, and he didn't feel any different to when he was usually going to sleep - but possibly more tired. Just tired of his suffering.
"It's over." he whispered.
They all understood. Mark's journey was over.
They were all flooded with memories. Their first meetings with Mark, the highs and the lows. That was how Mark was going to stay alive, even if he wasn't going to be there physically.
"Thanks guys," Mark whispered, his voice becoming more and more distant. "For sharing the dream, and for being my friends."
They smiled weakly, each of them fighting tears. They had to be strong for Mark, make sure he knew they'd be okay.
"Goodbye."
Mark closed his eyes again, and they all noticed the change. He wasn't sleeping this time, his breathing was irregular and short. Christian's grip on Mark's hand tightened.
"It's okay Mark, we're here." He whispered, aware that hearing was the last sense to go.
"You made us all happy." Ben whispered, leaning forward and taking Mark's other hand.
As he continued to struggle with his breathing, Mark managed a weak smile.
"You made a lot of people happy," Paul chipped in.
Mark didn't respond, but his breathing became shorter. Paul began sobbing silently, but Christian glared at him.
"There's every chance he can still hear us," he hissed in a hushed whisper. Christian turned to Mark.
"It's okay Mark, just sleep."
Mark closed his eyes again, but more relaxed. Heavy.... sleepy... warm. Lapped in ocean waves just gently taking him away. His body felt warm and controlled, like he was insulted in a warm blanket and slowly being lapped away. It was like he was a drop of water, merging in to a vast ocean. It didn't hurt and Mark wasn't scared.
Both Ben and Christian felt Mark grip their hands and heard his gasp for breath one last time.
"Oh God," Ben muttered, tears raining down his cheeks.
One last breath. Then, Mark's grip on their hands slackened. His hands fell loose in theirs.
"Goodbye, Mark." Paul whispered, stroking his hair gently. "We're still here."
But the chances he could hear them still had gone. Mark's skin was changing, loosing the vital shine. His essence had left him, and his hands were slack in Ben and Christian's - but not like the hand of a sleeping person.
After nearly an hour, with Mark slowly changing, they all stood up. Walking silently out of the room, once outside every one of their emotions was crushed in on them. It was like whilst they had been with Mark, their emotions and feelings had been suspended above them, and now they hit them harder than a ten ton weight.
"He's really gone," Paul sobbed. "He's really gone."
Paul was fighting the crazy idea of running back in to Mark's room and shaking him, trying to keep him alive. He hadn't had chance to say goodbye properly, unlike Ben and Christian.
"He knew we loved him," Ben whimpered through his tears. "He told me."
It was the smallest of comforts for Paul, and he felt his need to keep Mark alive fade. Mark was at peace now, it was only right to let him be.
Paralysed by their own feelings, the three guys stood together but they were unable to reach out to each other for help. They all needed to be alone, but there was things to be done...
Mark's Mum walked up the stairs and knew instantly what had happened. She opened Mark's door and didn't come out for ten minutes, tears running down her cheeks. "He looks at rest," she whispered. "Why don't you guys get out, get some fresh air? I'll do the neccessary."
They all left, and walked away from each other in separate directions.
Christian found himself on a park swing, gently swaying back and forth. He felt empty and hollow, and he knew he hadn't accepted it yet.
The sun rose and Christian was still there. He didn't want to move, how could he return to Mark's house and Mark not be there?
In the distance, he spotted two figures walking towards him. Ben and Paul. They joined him on the other swings a few minutes later.
"Look," Ben whispered, handing Christian a piece of paper with his own writing on. Christian's unfolded it and recognised the song instantly - after all, he had written it with Ben. Only one verse was printed, and it fit the moment perfectly.
After all we've said and done
Remains the memories of days
When life was fun
But now, when you are gone
I sit alone to watch the
Setting of the sun
They all looked up at the sky. The sun had already set, but the words still hit home.
"He's going to be missed," Paul whispered. "But we have to do this, for him."
Standing up and wrapping their arms around each other, they began to make their way slowly back to Mark's house. As they walked, the sun began to rose. Rising on a new day, even if it was a day without Mark, it gave them hope.
They began walking, slowly, not really knowing what the future held.
I didn't mean to go away
At the time I couldn't stay
End
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