A/N. I own absolutely nothing. I present to you the complete third chapter. R+R please! =D Thanks!

Chapter 3

It's midnight already and I'm still awake. I've been on this bed for almost three hours now. I'm so damn tired; I want to rest already but my head won't let me. My mind is still firing up; it's driving me insane with all these thoughts about Iris.

The way Iris avoided the conversation earlier before heading to Pan Dre's was something I anticipated. She always has her ways of diverting conversations when she's afraid to tap on some topics. I could hardly juice out the reasons behind her every frown, let alone the thoughts she tries to mask with smiles. And that is why I was kind of glad when she opened up about the burden of witnessing things as they crash down. The matter about waking up disappointed was just a bonus.

I didn't dare to try getting her to open up again after that trip earlier. I wanted my Pan Dre's meal to be peaceful. Anyway, it was true that I had an awful time with that egg sandwich this morning.

5 hours ago...

"Raleigh! Dinner's almost ready!"

"Yeap! Coming!" I yelled from my room.

I threw my PSP on my messy bed before sprinting to the dining area. Oh gosh, Iris's pasta smells so inviting! I sat down at the table where an empty plate waits patiently. Iris sprinkled some pepper while the heat from the stove bombed the area with such reviving food scent.

She grabbed my plate to the stove and dumped on it my share of the meal. And as she did, she started speaking in foreign accent, "This is the special du jour, is pasta a la vegeta-,"

I broke it off before she made further failed attempts at being hilarious, "Um, okay wow. Iris um, that's a terrible Italian accent."

Still babbling French phrases, she walked across from the stove to the table, laying down my plate which is now decorated with Iris's specialty.

"And if it's French," I cut off. "Monsieur is not pronounced man sewer."

"Mon-see-yoor," she repeated.

"Iris, the first syllable shouldn't be as crisp as how you say 'Monday;' the '-n' sound shouldn't be that obvious," I corrected her.

"Mo-shooor," she tried.

I rolled my eyes and slapped a hand to my face in frustration.

She sang a familiar tune in a theatrical tone, "Look mo-shooor, where all the children plaaaay!"

Les Miserables? Seriously?

Iris has an awesome singing voice but right now she's goofing around and it's really just annoying.

She switched to a silly impersonation of a manly voice, "Be at peace. Be at peace evermore."

"Iris," I tried to snap her out of it.

She sang starting it with an A, "My Cosette-" Then she returned to the low keys, "-Shall live in my protection."

"Oh god no, Iris-,"

"Take her now..."

"Iris, why are you-"

"Your child will want for nothing..." But she could not be stopped.

I grunted in annoyance and focused on starting to eat instead. As I gazed at my plate, I noted something unusual. Ignoring her singing, I complained, "Iris, there's no chicken in here." Did she forget or, did she forget? Chicken crumbles marinated in Asian spices make up the very core of this dish. Why do I see only veggies and scant Parmesan?

She stopped singing and tried to regain her senses. "You already had eggs this morning so you have to pass tonight." She went to get a plate and utensils of her own.

"Seriously Iris, it's not going to kill me to have some protein every now and then!" I exclaimed in disbelief. How am I supposed to enjoy this pasta without the main ingredient?

She threw an 'it's for your own good' face at me.

I rolled my eyes. "I don't remember Doctor Barden saying anything about how I should watch out for protein." I tried to explain. She sat with me at the table and started eating.

"Protein is actually what I need exactly. I mean in between chemo sessions, my good cells will need all the aid it can get to repair fast." Thank you, WebMD.

She was about to reply when her phone buzzed. She got off the desk to pick up the call.

I stared at her as she walked pass the door to entertain it. I eavesdropped from my seat, of course.

"Hello? Uh, speaking... Uh-huh... Oh... Okay... Well, uh, wait. Um, what about the hostess-position that you, you... the other day you interviewed me... Oh... Okay well, thank you... Thanks again."

Again, fuck no.

So that interview she was talking about earlier at McKazee's turned out to be just another entry into Iris's long list of 'Things-I-Am-Unqualified-For'. Oh no, not again. Her ninety nine percent success rate once again got tainted with inconsistency.

She returned to the table and ate.

I tried to make her open up a little, "Iris, was that the-,"

"Doctor Barden said you should watch out for dirty meat or poultry," she interrupted in an attempt to steer away from her present disappointment. There was no eye contact at all. She's obviously pissed right now. She used the Alpha tone again. It was so superior that it sounded almost monotonous. "And I'm not taking any risk of getting you infected so easy." She chewed her food fast. "Groceries aren't really sterilizing those things, so it is best that you're exposed much less instead."

Iris, 'dirty meat or poultry' means meat or poultry from infected animals, and not necessarily 'autoclaved' loins or wings. She's in a bad mood again; I can tell. That is why I kept my mouth shut and ate my food in silence, - afraid to unleash the kraken inside Iris.

Present time...

Insomnia isn't really my thing. I had darker evenings but I always had managed to sleep before 1 am. Geez, it's already a quarter past one and I still don't have any hint of sleepiness inside me.

Fuck being a teenager. Fuck being a leukemic teenager. I know that in about ten years (if I even live that long), I'd laugh about all this being an issue. These are just simple life obstacles, yes I know, but just so the heavens forget - I'm just sixteen. Obstacles should be age-appropriate; mine obviously aren't. There are tons of teenagers out there who carry even heavier baggage on their backs, yes I know. Well did they also have big sisters who keep on setting all dilemmas aside as if they're just jigsaw pieces scattered on the floor?

Or maybe they are indeed just jigsaw pieces, you know? Maybe I only have misinterpreted the orientation of each puzzle piece; maybe there are other big pictures from it than what the puzzle box says it would become.

What if Iris got that job? That would've meant one less silent meal for both of us.

What if that dinner wasn't spent in total silence? I probably would be a little less bothered right now.

What if my mind was a little less bothered right now? Oh yes, I would've been snoring peacefully for about three hours and counting.

Ugh, why am I even in this crazy little circle of thoughts? Let me dig deeper.

What if mom and dad didn't die? Iris then, would've remained in college. Iris then, even would've made it through to the title 'Ervin's girlfriend'. Iris would be blushing to sleep instead of crying to sleep.

What if Ervin and Iris got together? Oh right, my sister would've been this smiling little 'okay-maybe-the-glass-can-be-half-full' type of bitch. Sorry sis, sarcasm's the new trend. Ervin made her better back then. Wait, strike that. Ervin makes her better 'till now. The way Iris's face bloomed when she recognized the guy back in Pan Dre's was magical. Everything was so gloomy then boom! Iris went into a deep shade of red.

I cannot say that a lot of things would've turned bright if it weren't because of the accident. The way I see it, either path offered rocky and muddy roads. It was just a matter of which one will give us the bumpier ride. So I guess it's just Iris that could have gone high to the skies if the accident never happened. Well it did, and now she's not the only who is getting damned while the boat sinks; obviously my ass too, is on board.

So is this my method of figuring out other big pictures from the jigsaw pieces? The world never works that way and we all know that. No matter how Sherlock-ly I try to manipulate the orientation of these puzzle pieces, the sides were carved in those certain curves so I cannot really force two pieces to jive in like Lego blocks if they weren't meant to behave that way.

The clock read that it's near three in the morning. That is it; I need air. Grabbing my favorite jacket and a bonnet, I tiptoed to our porch.

I stood still in the cold for what it seemed like twenty minutes. The thoughts didn't scoot; they remained stagnant and cloudy inside my head. And within those twenty minutes of stiffness, staring blankly at a distance, I was also preventing any of the thoughts that are desperate for contemplation, from getting hot on spotlight. But it would''t get me anywhere, would it?

I was about to let one in, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw two homeless boys walking, shivering on the street. I watched them as the taller one wrapped his arms around the little one while continuing on their walk. He removed the sweater he was wearing and let the small boy wear it.

Without much thinking, I went over to them. They paused when I went near.

"Hey," I greeted them with a smile, hoping it's going to make a cheerful impression. The taller boy just stared up to me while he rubbed his hands up and down the little one's shoulders.

"Hi," the small one said sheepishly.

I squatted to their eye level, "Where are you guys headed to?"

"Some place where we can sleep, I guess. We've been walking all night." The other boy answered.

"Is he your brother?" I asked, referring to the shy little one.

"Yes," he said, casting a smile.

I noticed his arms shiver. The noble thing to do right now is to give the boy my jacket, but I'm having second thoughts.

10 months ago...

"Raleigh, wake up." Mom said.

The nurse paid me visits every hour to check on me. I need sleep; maybe mom will get tired of asking me to wake up if I just ignore.

She playfully poked me as I kept my eyes closed. "Raleigh honey, wake up. I got you something."

I ended my pretense. Well who says 'no' to a gift, right? "For me?"

Mom nodded as she grinned. She handed over the package and when I opened it, my eyes widened. "The BlackStorm hoodie from Holcomb's?"

Mom smiled, "Merry Christmas!"

Oh hell no! Tell me this is not real! Tell me that I'm dreaming. Oh gosh, I've always wanted this jacket! Thank goodness for me, Christmas came a day earlier!

I didn't mean to be a kid, but I hugged the jacket while I blushed.

"Mom, I thought you needed the money for your phone's repair," my curiosity spoke. Last month when mom and I went to the mall, we passed by Holcomb's to buy dad something for his birthday. The Blackstorm was on the display; I was admiring it for like – ten minutes. When mom snapped me out of my trance, I told her that I wanted it but she broke it down to me that her phone drowned in the tub one time and she'll be using the extra money she had to have it fixed. I didn't know what she meant exactly by that but of course I understood that a phone is more important than some fabrics.

Mom shrugged her shoulders, "I don't need a phone that much. I mean, your dad's is still working fine so I can just – you know, borrow it in case I need to contact anybody."

I couldn't shake off my head that she sacrificed getting her phone fixed for this, "Mom, you really didn't have to do that. I can manage with some garage sale suit; it shields from cold just as good as Holcomb's cotton."

"You used to stare at the display every time we walked by that store, Raleigh. And you told me yourself that you wanted it so bad." She leaned in to hug me.

I smiled. "I did. Thanks mom."

She kissed me on the cheek before pulling out of the hug.

"Where's dad?" I inquired.

"Oh he is just following up on your lab results. He left his phone with me, though." She gasped, "Oh I almost forgot!"

"What is it?"

She stood and walked over across the room as she reached into the pocket of her denim, "I haven't called Iris yet!"

I rolled my eyes. "Didn't she call yesterday?"

"She didn't. I did the dialing." She punched in the digits of Iris's number. "Plus, she told me yesterday that she won't be coming home for tomorrow. But well, maybe I'll succeed with last-minute convincing." She chuckled as she held the device up to her ear.

Oh great.

Present time...

This jacket was mom's final Christmas gift to me. Since that 25th of December, this jacket has developed a sentimental value. It always reminds me of mom's love. I mean, for fuck's sake, she sacrificed the convenience of having a phone for this! It's my favorite memory of my mom; it's my favorite jacket.

"Sorry sir, but we really need to get going." The older boy politely said, his voice shaking in the cold.

"Oh. Uh, yea. Sorry I sort of slowed you guys down." I replied with a comforting smile.

They both smiled back before continuing walking. They have gone quite some steps away from me when I blurted out, "Wait."

The boys paused and turned to my direction. I took off my Blackstorm as I jogged toward them. When I reached them, I wrapped it around the older boy. "You should have my jacket," I reluctantly spoke, before forcing a smile.

"Thank you, sir." The older boy greeted back with a happy grin.

"Call me Raleigh," I told them, only because I was''t sure of what to say further and because I have no idea why I gave it away.

"Thank you so much Raleigh." They walked off right after.

I just gave away the most important thing in the world for me. Why? The last thought that rushed through me was that it wouldn't matter much longer. It surprises me that the act wasn't out of pity or anything of that kind.

I returned into the house short after; it was ice-freezing outside. As I closed my bedroom door behind me, I had a quick look at the panorama of my filthy, ugly room. "What a fucking mess," I muttered.

I figured, if I slam myself to my bed once again, these troubling thoughts will be the end of me, so I took a few steps hoping that I land on a spot in my room that is like a safe haven. Poof! I found myself standing before the vertical mirror beside my bed. I stared at the image I see in front of me. Months ago, every time I kept the same stance as this, I see an ill boy. But tonight, a lot has been modified on that ill boy. It's not just the leukemia that I see in the mirror; I also see disaster.

That's it. I am the cause of everything. I am the cause of Iris's destruction. I am the hurricane that shatters everything along the way and makes an awful mess out of it. Come to think of it. If I wasn't sick, Iris would still be in college and she would be less of a pessimist. If my blood weren't at all abnormal, even with the accident remaining real, Iris wouldn't be so close-minded - making things easier for us.

Tears pooled in my eyes. Fuck, no realization had been a tear-jerker to me!

I hate what I see in the mirror. That boy was the root of all this. I'm hating him; he ruins everything by his existence.

Sorry Iris, I did this to you.