brain cancer fic》jerrie version

s e v e n

Perrie's quiet lately. Not because she's shy or anything — it just takes her a little longer to process words and it's even more draining for her to speak in complete sentences all the time. She still talks, sure, but a majority of his communication most days is via smiles and nods and head shakes. She's been using their thumbs-up signal recently, too.

Jade doesn't mind. Sure, it's weird not having Perrie's sweet little voice filling up the halls, always an uncontrollable ball of energy, but. She's still soft and cuddly and cheeky and here, and that's all that matters.

She starts off every morning by asking Perrie, "What color are you today, boo?"

It's a system they've come up with, like traffic lights, because three colors are easier for Perrie to keep track of than individual emotions.

Green is a good day, when Perrie is alert and in the mood for company and cartoons and maybe even pancakes. Yellow means okay. Yellow means, "I'm okay, but I might not be later," or vice versa. On yellow days, Perrie is a little slower; it takes her a little longer to speak, a little longer to process Jade's words. Yellow means no company and quiet music and cuddles and lots of tea. Sometimes, on yellow days, Jade reads to her, keeping her voice low and even, fingers tangled with Perrie's.

Red is a bad day — red is when the pain in Perrie's head is almost unbearable, it's radio silence and Perrie taking as long as ten minutes to answer a single question, or sometimes not at all. Red is Jade spooning ice chips into Perrie's mouth because she can't handle anything else. Red is Perrie clutching onto Jade like he's a lifeline, like he's the only thing keeping Perrie here.

Today is a red day. Jade can tell right off the bat, because it takes nearly twenty minutes to get Perrie awake and somewhat responsive, and even then her eyes are fluttering like she's physically incapable of keeping them open and it makes Jade's heart aches, how terribly weak she looks.

By early evening, though, after the sky has shifted from blue to pink to purple, Perrie's red has dimmed to yellow. Jade can tell; Perrie is much more alert, she has the energy to walk to the toilet by herself (Jade escorts her anyway, despite Perrie's weak protests that she's not a child, Jade.) She's cuddlier, too, snuggling up closer to Jade when she reaches out to run a hand through Perrie's hair.

Perrie lays on her side, eyes trained on Jade's. Jade gazes back, unflinching — she knows from the look in Perrie's eyes that she's truly here, really looking at Jade. Just observing, like she's trying to remember every detail of Jade's face. Jade doesn't mind, though; after all, she's doing the same.

Feeling a sudden surge of affection, Jade smiles gently, placing a hand on Perrie's forearm to make sure Perrie is present, grounded, and holds out her other hand in a tiny wave, waggling her fingers. Hi, I love you. Warmth spills into her gut when Perrie nods — she saw, she's here, she's here with me, Jade's relieved mind chants over and over again — and gives Jade a little thumbs up, corners of her mouth quirking up and she doesn't have to speak for Jade to know what it means.

I know. I love you, too.

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This is such a short one :(