Jonathan stood quietly in Nadjia's bedroom doorway, studying her features.
His hair, and eyebrows were just starting to really fill in.
When Nadjia's hair fell out over the course of her treatments, Jonathan shaved his hair to the scalp, and his eyebrows to the skin.
Without asking his parents.
It made him none too particularly popular with other students in his private school, people who wouldn't - couldn't - understand. Not unless they were in the same situation.
Nadjia stared at an empty spot on the wall, blinking every so often, oblivious to Jonathan standing in her doorway.
"You look good." Jonathan smiled, and stepped into her bedroom from the doorway. Her blue-black hair dull, the regrowth was still very short, and growing out in tight ringlets, and curls. "You look really good."
"Thanks to you." She nodded weakly, mustering a smile only slightly stronger.
Jonathan rubbed his hip. "Yeah. Bone's still sore."
Nadjia giggled, trying to smooth out her voice over a rough, and raw throat. "I'm in full remission, Jon. The doctors say I'll be allowed up soon."
"Good, I'm getting tired of bringing you your homework, all the time." Jonathan sat on the edge of her bed, teasing a streak of gray - near white - curly hair just above Nadjia's ear.
Nadjia smirked. "Yeah, I'm getting tired of you bringing me my homework all the time, too."
"Then we're agreed." He put a hand on her shoulder. "No more homework."
"So silly." She sighed. "You're finally letting your hair grow out. It's nice to see eyebrows on you, too."
"Well, you started it. I'm just following your example."
Nadjia yawned.
"Tired?"
"Nah, you're just boring me."
"Of course." Jonathan made a contrite face.
"I have a gift for you. I was going to wait until it was back on my feet, but since I'm doing so well..." Nadjia pointed past Jonathan to her bookshelf on the opposite wall.
Jonathan looked over his shoulder. "You want a book?"
Nadjia rolled her eyes. "On top of the bookshelf, do you see that small metal vase with the lid?"
"Yes. Yes I do. Nadjia why do you have an urn?"
"Bring it here, please."
Jonathan obeyed, and returned to her bedside with the urn.
Nadjia reached for his arm, and pulled at him. "Closer, jerk."
Jonathan shifted closer to her.
"Open it."
Jonathan struggled with the lid.
"It unscrews."
Jonathan unscrewed the lid, and peered inside. The urn was filled with fine grey-black ashes. "Is that part of a zipper in there?"
"Nah, it's the whole thing."
"Why are you giving me an urn full of ashes and a zipper, Nadjia?"
She giggled.
"Nadjia..."
"Well. A year ago," she paused to clear her throat. "...I had a neatly folded pair of jeans you wanted to burn."
"You said your jeans made you sick."
"I said my genes."
Jonathan blinked. "Yeah, your jeans."
"Genetics."
"I don't think you're generic."
She punched him in the arm.
"Jon?" Nadjia began to doze. She looked him in the eyes, her eyelids heavy. "I can barely keep my eyes open..."
"You should get some sleep."
"Jon?"
"Huh?"
"Love'n'stuff."
Jonathan took her hand, and nuzzled it. "Love'n'stuff."
Nadjia was breathing slowly, steadly. Jonathan screwed the lid back on his urn, and stared at it very hard, and very seriously. It was nice, Nadjia trying to make him feel better... but the night he came to her at the hospital... well, he was still having nightmares. In those dreams, Nadjia didn't make it to remission. She didn't make it past the first night. He felt a cold knot in the pit of his stomach. "That'll teach you, blue jeans."
He slid off the edge of Nadjia's bed, and left her room, shutting the door behind him.