Spinning.

Heading home for the first time from the hospital felt like Christmas came early.

Even though I had only been bouncing between hospitals for a little over a week, I had spent the month before that on the road in Europe, so the thought of my own bed was almost surreal. It also meant that I could afford the simple luxuries like walking across a room without anything connected to me, and hopefully without the chemo drugs in my system, I would be able to eat like a normal person.

I wasn't totally free from it all though, having scheduled a couple check-in appointments during my recovery period to make sure that my blood counts would be fine for the next round of chemotherapy, and still having a full regiment of drugs that I'd have to take when I was at home.

But as hard as the first cycle had been, when the last side effects of the chemotherapy drugs had worn off, I felt better than I had in weeks. I could breathe easier, my cough was improving, and I wasn't in as much pain. It made me hopeful for the future cycles, that as bad as the side effects were, the treatment was working. The post-chemotherapy treatments that I had been receiving the last two days made things much more bearable, and almost put things in perspective. Almost.

In my time at UCLA, my parents had done me a favor and cleaned out the guest room so it would be ready for Ava to move in, and according to the message I received from her when I woke up that morning, she was just arriving in Los Angeles and would probably be unpacking boxes when I got home. I was beyond excited to live with Ava-- she was my best friend since practically birth, so it only made sense. She practically spent her middle and high school years living at my house anyways, sleeping at my house more than her own. My parents treated Ava as one of their own, to the point where the only things separating us from being sisters were genetics and legal documents. The only person who knew me better than John did was Ava, and that's because she was there for everything-- every achievement, every failure, ever broken heart and every tough decision. I did my best to be the same for her, but no matter what I did, I knew that there was no way I could possibly be as good of a friend as she had been to me, especially now, with everything that was happening.

I woke up before John did, too ecstatic about the idea of going home to sleep any longer. I made sure to stay quiet when I first got up so I could let John sleep, dragging my IV stand behind me as silently as possible to the bathroom so I could freshen up for the day. The first thing I did was gently brush my hair before attempting to make it look presentable, noticing that it was already getting thinner from the treatments, though you couldn't tell just by looking at it.

Whether or not to get a wig was something I was still debating, uncertain if I wanted to put up with the process of getting one. On one hand, walking around bald might scare people into thinking that I'm not doing well, and I'd look weird, but on the other hand, I heard wigs weren't very comfortable. But it wasn't like I was trying to hide that I had cancer, especially since anyone who paid any remote amount of attention to pop culture knew that I was sick.

I hadn't been able to turn on a television or go on the internet since the announcement went out without being bombarded by stories about it, even though at this point there wasn't anyone who hadn't heard. Checking the text messages from my old high school and college friends had been hard enough, I didn't dare check my twitter replies or the posts on the Lady Says blog or facebook page. I kept telling myself that eventually I would get around to it, but at this point I didn't want to think about how many people were worried about me. It was easier to just push those thoughts aside.

Moving along from my hair, I hummed along to myself as I brushed my teeth, only stopping to spit and rinse, following it up by washing my face. It was nice to have a moment of solitude, not having to worry about people checking in or having to put on a brave face for company, even if it was just John.

As stubborn as it was, I hated the idea of people seeing me at less than my best-- boyfriend included. Maybe it was my pride, or maybe it was because it wasn't long ago that I had everything I could have ever wanted, but I felt like I was losing a war if I showed any sign of weakness. Every time I cried in front of someone, coughed in front of someone, or threw up in front of someone, the pitied stares would pile up. Even the most well-intended sympathies felt like reminders to how weak I had become. Every sorry look felt like it was taunting me, rubbing in that I was losing control of my body to a disease, and it was making me lose control of my life.

Because of this, the thought of being able to put on normal clothes, walk out into the real world, and act semi-normal was incredibly alluring. I craved normalcy like never before, the anticipation growing as I finished drying my face in the bathroom. At this point, there was nothing that would be able to get me down, knowing that home was a tangible thing that I would soon be returning to.

My train of thought was broken by a knock on the door, followed by John's voice. “Ber? You in there?”

“Uhh, yeah, be out in a sec!” I called, hanging the towel back up and opening the door, IV stand in hand.

John rushed past me, calling out good morning before shutting the door, leaving me to silently chuckle to myself as I could hear him using the toilet through the thin walls. Not even thirty seconds later he opened the door again, grinning at me as his hair stuck up every direction, a loose t-shirt and shorts draped from his thin frame.

“Sorry, I really had to pee.” He chuckled, kissing my nose before turning back around to wash his hands, the door still wide open.

“I figured that when you went flying past me that nature called.” I smiled, his eyes meeting mine through the reflection in the mirror.

“Ready to go home?” He asked, already aware of the answer.

“Is that even a question?” I laughed, passing him the towel so he could dry his hands.

“What are you most excited for?”

“What am I not excited for?” I countered, playfully raising an eyebrow at him. “I get to go home, my best friend is moving in, and I'll actually have some freedom. It doesn't get much better than that.”

“I feel like you're forgetting something here...” John trailed off, pouting.

“Oh yeah, you'll be with me for the next month.” I winked, moving so John could exit the bathroom.

“You know, I'm offended you forgot that.” John joked, walking across the room and grabbing his phone. “What's the plan for today?”

I hummed for a moment, thinking. “Well I know Kelly's bringing me real people clothes, since you apparently chickened out on picking an outfit for me...”

“Hey, I don't know anything about fashion sense. Have you seen some of the stuff I wear?” He defended, a flush rising to his cheeks. “I walked into your closet and just about had a heart attack- the thing's the size of my bathroom at home. How am I supposed to know what to pick out?”

I couldn't help but laugh at his face, appreciating how cute he was when he was flustered. The highlight of yesterday had been when Kelly came to visit and explained to me how John had called her from my apartment, full blown panicking because he was supposed to pick out clothes for me and he didn't want to mess up and pick something I wouldn't like, begging Kelly to help him. After trying to talk him through some ideas and failing, she finally told him that she'd just go over today and pick out some clothes herself. The story itself was worth a laugh, but it was even funnier when John came back and caught an earful from Kelly. I guess I trusted his fashion sense more than he did, but then again, maybe I was just a closet hipster.

“I was just teasing you. It's fine, I really don't care.” I chuckled. “But seriously. I think I have one last check-up and paperwork to sign before we can go, then Kelly and Andrew are bringing us home. Ava's going to be unpacking and my family will undoubtedly be helping her, so we'll see them when I get home... but I mean, once I get home, I'm home. I don't really know what we'll be doing after that, I guess.”

“Maybe we'll get some time to ourselves?” John suggested, wiggling his eyebrows at me and smirking. It didn't take a genius to know what he was implying, well aware that the last time we had sex or did anything sexual was over a month ago.

“We'll see.” I told him, not wanting to promise anything.

Honestly, as much fun as it sounded, and as excited as I was to go home, I was still exhausted. My body had been through physical hell in the last month, which had blatantly taken its toll. We had to be careful with things like kissing because my immune system was weak, and germs that might not have been able to get John sick could still wreak havoc on me, causing complications in my treatment.

On the other hand, there was the lingering thought that if we didn't do anything now, my interest would only decrease as I continued through treatment. Every cycle was going to kick the shit out of me, and soon I was going to be nothing but skin and bones, not to mention bald. I would be lying if I said that the thought of John no longer finding me attractive hadn't crossed my mind, because it had a few times. Actually, I was terrified that once he saw how much my body had changed from being sick, he would turn and walk out the door. Even with him staying with me in the hospital, I was always clothed around him. At the first hospital I had the benefit of the oversized hospital gown swallowing me up so it wasn't as noticeable, and then at UCLA I had loose t-shirts to cover my protruding ribs and jutting hip bones, even if my yoga pants showed that my legs had gotten thinner. I always managed to talk myself out of thinking that he'd leave over that, but the thought still wormed its way into my head when I wasn't careful.

John opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the door bursting open, Kelly and Andrew entering carrying a bag and grinning from ear to ear.

“Today's the day!” Kelly exclaimed, dropping her purse and the extra bag in a chair before coming over to hug me before waving to John.

Andrew stopped to shake John's hand before coming over to hug me. “How ready are you to get out of here?”

“Dude, I'm dying to get out of here.” I lightly groaned, grinning. “I'm also dying to get into real clothes. Kelly?”

“Gotcha covered, girl. Ava had just gotten to your apartment when we got there so she helped me pick your clothes out!” Kelly passed me the bag, pushing me back into the bathroom before closing the door. I wasted no time opening the bag and pulling out their wardrobe selection and a cosmetic bag, chuckling to myself at the predictability of Ava and Kelly's selections, knowing Kelly picked out the maxi skirt and Ava insisted on the accessories.

My head snapped up as I heard Kelly start talking again, focusing so I could make out what she was saying since her words were being muffled by the closed door. “Also we brought you some make-up because the paparazzi has been lurking outside the hospital since they found out what hospital you were in, so we figured you'd want to look nice!”

“Thanks!” I called out, slipping out of my old t-shirt before pulling the tank top over my head, adjusting it so it draped properly on my body. Slipping out of the yoga pants, I stepped into the maxi skirt and pulled it up, only to find it was too loose. As soon as I let go of it, the skirt fell halfway down my butt, barely hanging on. I knew I had lost weight, but I didn't realize how much weight I had actually lost. Looking up in the mirror, I thought about what to do for a moment before calling out.

“ Uhh... Kelly?”

“What?”

I opened the door, still holding the skirt up with my free hand. “So I got a lot skinnier since I wore this last, and it's gonna fall off if I don't get a belt...”

“Oh! Take mine.” She laughed, unbuckling hers before handing it to me. I gave her a funny look, which she waved off. “It's not like I need a belt to hold up a maxi dress. Besides, I'm pregnant, I don't have to try and belt shit to look skinny anymore.”

I chuckled, putting the belt on and bucking it. “You're a lifesaver. Good choice on the clothes by the way.”

“Thank you! John chose well when he made me pick out your clothes.” She giggled, earning rolled eyes from John and a snort from Andrew.

“I don't blame him.” Andrew commented, “Clothes are dangerous territory.”

“Thank you! Someone understands.” John practically shouted with joy, causing Kelly and I to laugh again.

“Finish getting ready! The sooner you're ready the sooner we're outta here.” Kelly instructed, turning back to me and shooing me back into the bathroom.

I went back, doing my best with the crappy bathroom lighting to make my make-up look okay, keeping it light so it simply looked like I was healthier and not a cancer patient.

When I emerged from the bathroom, both Andrew and John were so immersed in a conversation about music that they didn't notice me at first. Kelly had taken a seat on the bed, and she hopped to her feet to take my stuff from me.

“Lookin' great!” She exclaimed, causing both John and Andrew to snap their attention to me.

I stood there awkwardly for a second, suddenly very self-conscious about my appearance. It was the first time in a couple weeks that I had put in my contacts, and even though I knew the second I stepped outside the Los Angeles sun would make me thankful for the tank top, with my overly thin arms and my central line poking out above my shirt I felt a little vulnerable.

That feeling vanished though the moment I saw John's reaction, his eyes sparkling and his grin wide as he looked at me. Hopping up, he moved across the room to meet me, stopping in front of me and resting his hands on my hips before leaning down and gently brushing his lips against mine. Even with the simplest of gestures, John still managed to make me melt.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured, rubbing his nose against mine.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, coyly looking down in hopes of covering my furious blushing.

“Aww, you two are precious!” Kelly gushed, John and I suddenly diverting our attention to Kelly and her husband.

Andrew was smirking at us, his phone out as he looked between us and the screen. “Am I allowed to instagram you two being cute?”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Did you seriously take a picture of that?”

“Sure did.” He answered, grinning. “And it's a damn good picture for an iPhone, if I do say so myself.”

“Fine, but if you mention anything about me being discharged wait until we're out of here so we're not totally swamped.”

“On that note, are we ready to go?” Kelly asked, holding the bag of stuff she initially brought with.

“I need to put on shoes and we need the nurse to escort us, but otherwise I think so.” I shrugged.

“Yeah, I packed up all of our stuff so it's set.” John agreed.

“Oh yeah, shoes.” Kelly chuckled, pulling out another bag. “Shoes, a hat, sunglasses, and your purse. We figured you'd want the sunglasses and hat since the sun is pounding down and you're whiter than the snow on Mount Everest, and the purse has your key that you loaned to Ava in it. She got a copy made so she's set.”

I thanked her before sitting at the edge of the bed and putting on the sandals she brought, grabbing my phone off the table and slipping it into the purse before taking the hat and sunglasses from her. While I did that, John poked into the hallway to get the nurse so we were ready to go. When she returned, she gave me the clipboard with the form to sign for my release. The second I finished signing, I passed the nurse back the clipboard, which she hung onto while she walked us to the main doors. As we reached the entryway I could already see paparazzi outside, watching intently for any familiar faces to walk through the doors. I finally put the hat and sunglasses on, thanking the nurse for walking us down before I braced myself to head back into the real world.

“Are there always this many of them here?” I pointed out at the photographers, surprised by how many there were.

“There are a couple more here today than usual, but usually it's about that many.” Andrew shrugged. “They've seen us go through plenty of times and have gotten pictures. They've also got pictures of your bandmates from when they visited, and your family...”

“What do they even do with all of those pictures? I mean, there's nothing really exciting about people walking into a hospital.”

“Well, they ask us how you're doing. I think some of them are video guys for TMZ.” John answered. “They still put the pictures on gossip sites, since they have to do with you and how you're doing. And besides that, there are enough of us visiting you that are famous that we have our own pull I guess.”

“Weird. Whatever.” I nodded. I don't think I'll ever be able to understand the obsession of hollywood with celebrities' daily lives.

'You ready?” Kelly asked, slipping on her sunglasses as we stood in front of the last set of doors.

“Alright, let's get the hell out of here!” I told them, Andrew cheering as the final set of doors opened for us to go through.

In some ways it felt like walking on the red carpet, the cameras rapidly firing while people called out at you to look at them for a picture. Except instead of being dressed to the nines, I was in casual summer clothes, hiding the bags under my eyes with giant sunglasses and hiding my thinning hair with a giant floppy hat. I waved politely when we first walked out and smiled, but after that I ducked my head and tried to show that I didn't want my picture taken, even though I knew it wouldn't be successful. We made a point of moving quickly to Andrew's car, the photographers beginning to follow us as we paced our way through the parking lot. They were all shouting questions at me that I didn't bother trying to answer, instead asking them to stop before moving closer to John so he could block me from their sight.

“Hey guys, can we please lay off the photos? We really just want to get home without having our picture all over the internet.” John called out, doing his best to be polite to the photographers while still making our wishes known.

As soon as he finished speaking the clicking stopped, and I looked at him with pure shock. They had listened to him, putting down their cameras and wishing me well before leaving us to go home in one piece. The second we got in the car, I turned to him, my mouth still hanging open.

“How the hell did you do that?” I asked him, completely amazed.

“I've been buttering up to them all week.” John answered proudly. “I would pass them every time I left or came back here, and I'd bring them food while they were camping out and talk to them about things unrelated to you. It helps to be friends with the paparazzi.”

“Damn, that's impressive.” Andrew remarked, also impressed by John's power over them.

The drive home felt like it took forever and no time at all, my excitement about getting home almost unbearable. But soon enough we were in the elevator up to my apartment, my heart skipping beats as I pulled out the keys and unlocked the door.

When I got inside, Ava's boxes were scattered throughout the apartment. The door was closed to her room, muffled voices inside chattering away while someone was hammering on something. I went up and knocked on the door, the voices cutting off as footsteps came closer, the door swinging open.

I was expecting to see Ava or one of my parents, but instead I found myself staring at a pair of golden eyes.

“...Kennedy?”

“Beret! Hey!” He grinned, hugging me. “Welcome home!”

“Thanks!” I returned the grin, turning to see Ava frantically climbing over a pile of boxes to greet me.

“Ber! I'm coming I swear! I just don't want to trip over this shit, it took forever to pack up!” She called out, carefully squeezing between two stacks of boxes before finally reaching me, pulling me into an overly cautious hug.

“Hi!” I laughed, unfazed by her frazzled expression. “You know you can hug me harder than that, right?”

She chuckled nervously, slowly tightening her arms around me. When she finally reached a normal hug, I hugged her back.

“Sorry, didn't want to risk hurting you.” She sheepishly replied, letting go.

“Don't worry about it. It's fine.” I waved her off, smiling. “Where's my family?”

“They're bringing up boxes, as are the guys.” Kennedy casually answered, picking up a piece of whatever furniture they were assembling.

“The guys?” I inquired, looking between them confused.

My answer came a couple seconds later, when the front door opened and the twins came through with more boxes, Jared and Garrett following behind.

“Holy shit everyone's helping you move in!” I exclaimed, laughing as they saw me and practically dropped the boxes they were holding.

Our reunion kept growing as more people came up carrying the rest of the boxes, adding Pat, David, Ian, and Mason to the mix. Soon all of Ava's stuff had joined mine in the apartment, and we were all scattered in the living room, casually talking about everything that had been going on over the last two weeks.

Eventually though, our spontaneous gathering had to come to an end, people trickling out in order to take care of other business in their own lives. It left Ava, John, and I alone in the apartment, John dozing off with his head in my lap while I sprawled out across the couch, and Ava lounging comfortably in one of the other chairs. We both spent a moment surveying the living room, which after having been unoccupied for over a month, was now overflowing with boxes and odds and ends from being re-inhabited.

“I, uh, I should start putting all of this stuff away.” Ava abruptly stood up, smoothing down the fabric of her pants. “I know you always keep the place immaculate and--”

“No, you don't have to do that right now.” I waved her off, unconcerned.

“Are you sure? I mean, you just got home from the hospital today and the house is already a mess and--”

"Ava-- Ava. Stop worrying. Seriously, it's fine. You just drove across the country, take some time to relax before you unpack your stuff- you live here now, you may as well make yourself at home and enjoy it." I cut her off as she rambled, not wanting her to stress out. "Besides, if you don't sit down you can't tell me all about you and Kennedy, since that has already been put off for way too long." I joked, wiggling my eyebrows at her. She grinned, and for a moment life felt normal between the two of us-- like cancer wasn't an issue, and we were just catching up on a normal day.

“Well, there isn't much to tell...” She shrugged, sitting back down in the chair and getting comfortable.

“But obviously there is still stuff to tell.” I smirked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, where do you want me to start?” Her lips curled up, signaling that I won-- she was going to spill on Kennedy.

“The beginning would be great.”

“Okay, so remember when you had that party for the billboard nominations?” She asked.

“Yeah... Oh wait! I remember seeing you two talking to each other!” I exclaimed, thinking back to that night.

“Yeah, well we went back to my place after a short conversation.” She smirked, the devilish glint in her eyes catching my attention. That alone told me what was coming next.

“And?” I prompted, just waiting for the bomb to drop.

“Best sex I've ever had.” She declared,

“Wait, Ava the casanova has a new pick for best sex? No wonder he's still around, otherwise he'd be old news.” I teased, Ava rolling her eyes at me.

“Not all of us can fall madly in love with Mr. Perfect-disguised-as-a-ridiculously-attractive-bad-boy.” she playfully scoffed, “Some of us are happy with a just having a lot of sex. It's never left me lonely.”

“Oh please, you wouldn't know love if it hit you in the face.” I giggled, earning a glare from my best friend and removing the humor from my comment. “Sorry, too far. Anyways, what happened next?”

“So after a hot night of jumping each other's bones, we got up and did it again in the morning. Then we got each other's phone numbers so if we were in the same place at the same time, we could do it again.”

“And obviously you have?”

“Oh yeah,” she snorted, as if it weren't completely obvious. “While you were galavanting around Europe, I managed to squeeze in quite a bit of time with that hot piece of guitarist.”

“Time spent only between the sheets?” I inquired, tempted by the details.

“And in the bathroom, and on the kitchen counter, and out--”

“Oh Jesus Ava!” I cut her off, not wanting to hear anymore. “I was just wondering if you two, y'know, talked about things? Like normal people?!”

“You just want me to get a boyfriend.” She observed, nailing my intentions on the head. I nodded, figuring I had nothing to lose by being honest with her.

“Well, keep dreamin'!” She chuckled, standing up and getting herself a glass of water.

“But seriously, how do you maintain a relationship that consists entirely of screwing each other without it getting weird? This is a mystery to me.” I persisted, hoping for some sort of an explanation.

“It's pretty simple, really. One of us gets turned on, calls the other one to see if they're free, in the area, and down to fuck. If so, you get together. If not, then you call someone else. No hard feelings.”

“But like, what about when you wake up in the morning and you're stuck next to him? Then what?”

“Then you go for a round in the morning.” She shrugged.

I was tempted to ask her about the phone conversation I heard back in London, or John's comment about the two of them when I was first hospitalized, but I didn't know how to bring them up without it being awkward.

“But you've never had a conversation with him? Like, ever?” I pushed, looking for a specific answer.

“Well, there have been a couple...” she caved, my silent cheering unnoticed. “The first night we got together, we talked about knowing you and John. And a couple times when one of us has called the other we couldn't get together, but it turned into a conversation. I mean, with me knowing you and him knowing John, we've talked about the two of you a few times. But other than knowing his name's Kennedy Brock and he plays guitar for the Maine, I don't know a damn thing about him.”

“Wait, you only talk about John and I?” I clarified.

“Well yeah, really that's it. I mean, talking about anything else breaks the code.” She answered, unfazed.

“What code?”

“The 'only-using-each-other-for-sex' code.” Ava chuckled, noting my confusion. “You're clueless sometimes, you know that?”

“You're strange.” I countered as I shook my head, unsure what to think.

On one hand, I was glad that Ava was getting what she wanted-- because if Ava was happy, that was the important thing: as her best friend, I only wanted her to be happy. But I couldn't help but wish she could find someone who could she could see as more than just a way to have sex, and appreciate them; at times I felt like Ava was missing out on a lot of the beauty in life simply because she refused to put her heart out there and feel it. Sure, Ava could act. And she was great at acting like she was in love. But just because she could act like she was in love didn't mean she actually knew what it was like, and maybe I was just a hopeless romantic, but I thought it was one of the most exhilarating feelings in the world.

“What ever, to each their own.” She shrugged. “Got any plans for tonight?”

“A date with my bed?” I chuckled, looking down at my sleeping boyfriend and toying with his hair. “I'm guessing that John will also be on that date as well.”

“Someone's getting some sexy time,” Ava winked, causing me to blush.

“That's not what I meant!”

“I know. I just like making you squirm.” She giggled, sipping her water as she plopped down in her chair again. “Glad to be home?”

“Oh Ava,” I smiled at her, knowing she had no idea about how hard my first cycle of chemo was. “You have no idea.”



The morning I woke up to the first big clump of hair on my pillow, I cried.

I swore I wasn't going to. But the shock of seeing so much hair on my pillow was too much to process: it was happening. I was losing my hair.

I tried to stay quiet, swallowing my sobs, but I could feel myself shaking as I stared down at the flaming pile of hair on my pillow

“Beret? What's going on?” John rolled over, his voice thick with sleep and his eyelids drooping as he looked up at me.

I tried to tell him, but the words came out as a giant, sputtery, incoherent mess. All I could do was point at the pillow and try to wipe my eyes, feeling ashamed that I was crying over it.

I watched as John's eyes followed down to the pillow, settling on the fiery locks of hair. He opened and closed his mouth a couple times, as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he just sat up and pulled me close to him, hanging on as tightly as he could without hurting me and burying his nose in the hair I still had.

“What do you want to do about it?” John finally asked, his voice shaking. I looked up at him, realizing he was as freaked out by the sight as I was.

“I don't want to watch all my hair fall out.” I whimpered, trying not to cry.

“I know you don't,” he soothed, his voice hardly above a whisper. “But it's happening, Ber. It'll come back, we've just gotta get through this.”

“Can't we just cut it all off?” I asked him, desperate for some way of avoiding another morning like this.

John looked at me seriously, thinking about what I just said. “Is that what you want to do?”

I thought about it for a moment before finally nodding. “I can't wake up like this again.”

He pursed his lips, looking back to the hair-covered pillow. “When do you want to do it?”

“Today. I don't care when, but today.”

“We'll need to get a clippers.”

“We can go to the store.” I quickly answered, not wanting to lose the moment of courage I was having.

“Are you sure you feel up to going out?” His eyes returned to me, worried.

I nodded slowly. “It won't take long, right?”

“If you feel like it, then we can go. If not, I'm sure I could get one of the guys to pick one up.”

I pried myself from John's arms and stood up, moving to the closet to find something to wear that was appropriate for going out in public. Changing clothes, I turned around to face him.

“Didn't the guys want to hang out today?”

“I'm sure they'll understand if we cancel on them.” John shrugged, sliding on a pair of jeans.

“Well no, I was thinking they could come over. It might be nice to have a little moral support while I'm shaving my head.”

“If you want me to, I can invite them over.”

“We'll see once we get back from the store.”

I made my way out into the kitchen, where Ava was sitting with a cup of coffee and reading a magazine. I could tell right away it wasn't one of her filming days, her hair thrown up into a loose ponytail and a casual dress covering her thin frame.

“Hey Ava,” I half smiled at her as I searched for a water bottle, popping my pills before taking a big swig of the cool liquid.

“Hey Beret.” She looked up from her magazine. “Why the long face?”

“I'm shaving my head today.” I swallowed nervously, pursing my lips.

“What?” She almost dropped her coffee, looking at me in disbelief.

“I can't do it Ava. I can't watch my hair fall out. I woke up this morning and there was a hu--”

“Beret.” She stopped me, taking a deep breath. “It's totally okay if you want to shave your head. Take a deep breath before you hyperventilate. Do you have the stuff to do this?”

“We're about to go get them.”

“Do you want me to come with?”

“I, uh, sure. We can have three of us go I guess.”

Ava closed her magazine and stood up, leaving to get car keys. John walked in while she was gone, fully dressed.

“Is Ava up?”

“Yeah, she's getting car keys.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Is she coming with?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

The drive to the nearest Target was virtually silent, John and I sitting in the back seat while Ava navigated the streets of Los Angeles. John watched me as I watched out the window, our hands loosely intertwined on the middle seat. We tried to keep a low profile walking through the store, a beanie covering my head and hiding my hair loss while the baggy t-shirt I wore covered the weight I had already lost from treatments.

“So what exactly do we need for this?” Ava finally asked, turning into the aisle that had razors and shavers and other hair removal options.

“One of these?” John picked up a trimmer, looking over at me.

“I think that's it.” I shrugged.

“Do you want something to cover the floor? Then it won't be a total mess?” Ava suggested.

“What would we get for that?” John asked, confused.

“Just a cheap tablecloth.” She shrugged.

“Sure, why not.” I sighed, rubbing my temples.

“You okay?” John's eyes darted to me, focusing on where my fingers had just been pressed.

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

I nodded. “Where are the tablecloths?”

Ava led us through the store, not stopping until we were faced by tablecloths in every shape, color, and pattern imaginable.

“Um, do you have a preference?” She asked, her eyes trailing down the shelves.

“I don't really care. Just get a big one.” I shrugged, putting my best effort into not freaking out about the morning's events.

“We should maybe get a plastic one so the hair doesn't stick to it when you try to empty it off...” Ava trailed off.

Processing that thought, I was shocked when a chuckle escaped my lips.

“What's so funny?” John asked, sharing a bewildered glance with Ava.

“I just-- I don't even know!” I told him, “I can't believe we're having this conversation. Like, it's so unreal. 'We should get a plastic one so the hair doesn't stick to it'-- what? Who says that? When else would that even be a relevant thought?”

Ava nodded. “She does have a point.”

“I suppose so.” John tentatively agreed, grabbing one of the options and holding it up. “So... getting a plastic one?”

“That looks fine.” I shrugged.

“Then we're set!” Ava took the tablecloth from John, the three of us paying for the items before making our way home.

Just as we were getting out of the car, John's phone began to ring. He slid the phone out of his pocket, glancing at the screen before answering.

“What's up? ... umm, I don't know.” He pressed the phone to his chest, looking up at me. “It's the guys.”

“And?” I answered, fiddling with the shopping bag between my fingers.

“They were wondering about hanging out.”

“Um, sure, they can come over.” I answered quickly, Ava opening her mouth to respond but closing it once I beat her to it.

“Hey Pat? Yeah, she said it's cool. Just give me a call when you're here and I'll come down to get you guys.” John paused for a moment, listening to the response on the other end. “Okay, yeah, see you soon.”

I took a deep breath, taking the bags from John before we made our way up to the apartment.

Once we arrived, Ava unlocked the door, pushing it open so we could all step inside. “So, where do we want to do this?”

“Dining room?” John suggested, looking around.

“Sure, why not?” I shrugged.

Ava dropped her purse on the counter before grabbing the first bag from me, pulling out the tablecloth before laying it out on the floor. While she was working on that, I opened the package that the shaver was in, taking off the plastic before popping open the box and removing all of the pieces. My hands were starting to tremble with nerves, having been attached to my long hair for my entire life. There were no pictures of me with hair shorter than my chest-- I never had the guts to go short. Now I didn't have a choice: sooner or later, I was going to be bald.

“Nervous?” She asked, grabbing a chair and setting it in the middle of the plastic.

“I've never had short hair, much less no hair, so... yeah,” I answered, turning back to face Ava.

“It'll show off your beautiful face, think of it that way.” Ava sat down on the chair, watching me assemble the shaver. “Also, I was going to get lunch with Kelly and Andrew, but since you're shaving your head I'm going to stick around... when I reschedule, want to join us?”

“Just invite them over.” I turned, looking at her. “I mean, if the Maine guys are coming over, we may as well make it a party. It'd be nice to have all the support I can get.”

While she went to grab her phone, I pulled out mine, following my own words and texting my bandmates.

“We're having a head shaving party. Want to come over?”

It only took a couple minutes for the responses to come in, alerting me that my apartment would be very full in a very short amount of time. John had returned from downstairs, bringing in his bandmates as well as a petite blonde that I hadn't seen in a while.

“The guys are here!” He called out, pushing open the door and ushering everyone inside. I looked up from my phone, having seen the last message from my own bandmates before looking at the group standing in my kitchen.

Among them, Tessa was carrying a giant bag filled with tupperware, which I could only assume contained food so I would actually have things worth eating while I was at home.

“Tessa?!” I practically shouted, brushing past Ava and heading straight for the chef, skipping past the guys in the process. She rapidly handed the bag off to Jared before excitedly hugging me, not bothering to be gentle (which I greatly appreciated).

“Beret!” She squealed. “I missed you!”

“I missed you too! What are you doing in California?? And why the hell didn't anyone tell me you were coming!?”

“I've been working on a new cookbook, and there are talks to turn it into a show!” She grinned, pulling back to survey me. “Girl, we've gotta get better at this whole keeping-in-touch thing, it's been too long!”

“It has! But whatever, you're here now, let's make the most of it!” I told her, stepping away so I could hug the others.

It hardly took any time before everyone else had joined, my bandmates, Andrew, and Kelly joining Tessa, Ava, and the Maine in my apartment, everyone moving furniture so the make-shift barber chair was front and center. As soon as everyone had grabbed their seats, Ava turned to me, grabbing the clippers and looking me straight in the eyes.

“Ready?”

“It's time,” I anxiously smiled, earning cheers of support from my friends. Ava gestured to the chair, letting me take a seat before she pulled back my hair and began braiding it.

“I have to admit Ber, it's going to be interesting to see you bald.” Alex commented, my bandmates nodding their heads in agreement.

“Yeah, you have so much hair! And I thought Pat had a lot.” Garrett added, earning laughter from from the group.

“No kidding, your head is going to be five pounds lighter.” Ava joked, her fingers swiftly moving as she kept braiding. I noticed John had snagged my camera from our room, the shutter clicking as Ava tied off the braid, strolling into the kitchen and grabbing the scissors.

“Beret, would you like the honor of cutting off your own braid?” She asked, holding out the scissors for me.

“I won't be able to see what I'm doing,” I told her, assuming she was crazy.

“Nonsense, I'll make sure you don't hurt yourself.” Ava smiled, gesturing to the scissors in her hand.

I took a deep breath, the others nodding their heads as they egged me on. “Okay, fine. But you're guiding the scissors.” I told her, taking the scissors from her and sliding my hand in before reaching back.

“Somebody better be getting this on video.” Ava called out, adjusting my hand so the scissors was lined up.

“Gotcha covered!” Andrew called out, his own camera focused on my head from where he was perched on the couch.

“And we're cutting it in 3..2..1!” I called out, closing my eyes and shutting the scissors as I reached the one.

There was cheering as I felt the braid separate from my head, my heart pounding and hands shaking as my head suddenly felt much lighter. I brought both of my hands back in front of me, looking at the long braid that moments ago had been attached to my head. Setting the scissors in my lap, I reached back, feeling the very short crop of hair on the back of my head, some of the longer pieces falling in my face as I turned my head.

“Holy shit, that's so short!” I laughed, rubbing my hand over the fuzzier part on the back of my head.

I passed the braid to Ava, who after some internal debate, laid the braid on the counter.

“Just wait, it's going to get even shorter.” Kelly commented, standing up and stealing the scissors from me, moving behind me to survey my head. “We've gotta shorten the long stuff before you can buzz it, or you'll jam up the shaver.” She explained, beginning to trim the hair around my face. “We tried it with Andy and that didn't end well. We had to buy a new shaver.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that!” Andrew exclaimed, chuckling to himself. “That nurse was pissed, we made such a mess.”

“Oh dear.” I rolled my eyes, smiling to myself as Kelly worked.

“Are you getting a wig?” Andrew asked, watching as his wife worked on my head.

I thought about it, finally making my decision.

“Not unless I look ugly when I'm bald.” I shrugged, “I've heard they're uncomfortable.”

“You'll look just fine when you're bald,” Ryan assured me, chuckling. “If anyone can pull it off, it's you.”

“Thanks the faith,” I giggled.

Kelly finished, setting the scissors on the counter before grabbing the clippers, flipping them on so a buzzing sound began to fill the room.

“No going back now!” I lightly commented, running my fingers through my hair, which was now an inch at the longest.

Kelly grinned, turning to John. “Would you like to do the honors of buzzing her head?”

“Beret?” He asked, taking the clippers form Kelly and passing the camera to Ian.

“Go for it.” I told him, returning my hands to my lap. He nervously stepped forward, taking a deep breath before taking the first pass over my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to get any hair in my eyes as the clumps began to fall, the room erupting with cheers as he finished the first past. I opened one eye as he shut the clippers off, feeling one finger slide across the skin on my scalp.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, my laughter filling the room. “That tickles!”

“It's so smooth!” John replied, the smile evident in his voice as he flipped the clippers on again. “Alright, let me do the rest.”

I shut my eyes again, the sensation of the shaver sliding across my head becoming less foreign as he continued to work. As he finally took off the last bit, everyone began to cheer again.

“All done?” I asked, my head feeling drastically different from even an hour ago.

“Yup!” John smiled, leaning down and resting his chin on top of my head. The scruff against the smooth skin was a strange new sensation, my face screwing up from the tickling sensation.

“I'm grabbing a mirror!” Ava called out, running into her room and emerging moments later with a handheld mirror in her hands. “Want to see what you look like?”

“Of course!” I told her, my heart pounding. I was a little anxious, hoping that even without my hair I still looked like myself.

“Alright, take a look!” Ava passed me the mirror, my eyes averting the glass while I prepared myself for what I was about to see.

“Here we go!” I called out, finally holding up the mirror to study my reflection.

I gasped, trying not to drop the mirror rom shock: my green eyes looked even larger than usual without the red hair to balance them out; my cheekbones more prominent without their usual frame. I had to try not to drop the mirror, absolutely astounded at how different I looked without my hair.

John bent down and kissed the top of my head, looking into the mirror and meeting my eyes through the reflection.

“Looks a little different.” He murmured, smiling at me.

“Just a little,” I chuckled, surprisingly content with my new appearance.

I reached up, letting my fingers glide across my scalp, still enthralled by the new tactile sensations on my head.

“Guys, this feels crazy! Rub my head!” I told them, everyone chuckling to themselves.

Mason and Ian were the first to stand from their chairs, moving over and tentatively placing their hands on my head.

“Holy shit!” Mason shouted, “This feels so cool!”

“No kidding! Damn, this is awesome!” Ian agreed, laughing as he moved his hands around my head.

Soon enough, the others were taking turns putting their hands on my head as well, everyone laughing at each other's reactions and at my own as numerous hands began rubbing my head.

I had started the day terrified and crying, but only a couple hours later, here I was laughing with my friends over the changes that my fear had resulted in. I really didn't know if my mood shift had something to do with side effects from medication, or if it was just the weight of it all, but I knew that if my friends hadn't been there, the outcome would have been very different. I couldn't help but be thankful for the people filling my apartment, knowing that without them I would be powerless to fight the disease that had changed everything.

It really was like the Beatles said: “I get by with a little help from my friends.”