Skin

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mrs. Witzigreuter said for the twentieth time since she, her husband, and her son had been brought into the small hospital room not even half an hour prior. “Maybe you just keep hitting the same place; you really are a clumsy one, Jordan, so I honestly wouldn’t doubt it.”

Jordan didn’t answer, too busy staring down at the IV that had been carefully stuck in his right arm before his gaze traveled across the midriff of the gown he’d been forced to change into and landing instead on the bruise that had been there on his left arm for nearly two weeks. It hadn’t started to fade, instead turning a blotchy black and purple with slight traces of a deep pink, but the scary part was the fact that, on top of it not going away, it had only seemed to get bigger.

Mrs. Witzigreuter continued to ramble on about how they shouldn’t be worried, how it was surely nothing, but Mr. Witzigreuter kept quiet, his eyes staring blankly at the wall across the room. Jordan didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t even bother. He knew there was something wrong with him, but he just didn’t know what. He really wasn’t that clumsy of a person, not as clumsy as his boyfriend, Zack, and said boy was rarely ever covered in bruises.

As Jordan’s eyes trailed back over to the IV, the door opened and a doctor with a name tag stating ‘Dr. Miller’ stepped into the room, clipboard in hand and sad smile on his lips.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked quietly, prompting Mrs. Witzigreuter to stop her incessant chatting.

Jordan shrugged, eyes moving from the doctor’s own and down to his sheet-covered legs. “Scared to death,” he finally answered, almost too softly to be noticeable.

The doctor nodded, looked to Jordan’s parents and gave them the same remorseful expression before glancing down at his charts, a sigh passing his lips. “There’s really no easy way to say this, Jordan,” he started, eyes meeting the worried, ice blue pair of the boy laying in the bed, “but from your test results, we’ve gathered that you have leukemia.”

Jordan didn’t totally understand, really. He was a completely healthy, normal, seventeen-year-old boy. There had to be a mistake. Or maybe it was a joke. That was more logical than him having cancer.

Mrs. Witzigreuter and Mr. Witzigreuter felt like they’d both just been hit with a tsunami. Tears immediately sprang into the young boy’s mother’s eyes as she buried her face in her hands, her husband’s arms pulling her in as he cooed quietly, only being able to hold his own tears back because he knew he had to be the strong one.

When Jordan didn’t say anything, merely watched on with concern clouding his features as he fought to figure out why his mother was in such distress (the doctor had to have had the wrong Jordan, after all), Dr. Miller realized that his patient was in denial about what was happening to his body at that very moment.

“You’re only in stage one right now. We feel you’re close to stage two, but we should be able to catch it before it gets any worse,” Dr. Miller explained. “Do you know exactly what cancer is?”

Jordan shook his head, thoughts racing to make sense of what he’d just heard. There was no way he had cancer, it was physically impossible.

Dr. Miller allowed him a moment to think before continuing on. “It has to do with your cells. Between your red and white, something just isn’t right. The odds of the treatment working on average are about six to every ten completely, which even I will admit aren’t the greatest, but we’re gonna take real good care of you, alright?”

Jordan nodded numbly after letting the information sink in. The important thing, he realized, was the fact that he still had a fighting chance; that he wasn’t too far along to be saved just yet.

“We’re going to put you on chemo starting first thing tomorrow morning, but you won’t have to stay in the hospital unless it starts getting too bad. A registered nurse will be sent to your house tomorrow morning—around seven, if that’s alright—and you’ll be given an IV. You’ll only have to do it each day for a week before you get three weeks of rest, and then you’ll have it for another week and so on. You can still go to school and be a normal teenage boy, but you’ll have to be much more careful with what you do and how you eat from now on. You’ll start losing a lot of weight, a—”

“Will I lose my hair?” Jordan blurt, more concerned about that single idea than anything else. His hair was a part of who he was, and he couldn’t remember a time where his precious locks had been any shorter than three inches long, swooping over his forehead just so. He treasured it more than he did his own life.

Dr. Miller looked a little confused for a moment before he shrugged, replied, “Some patients do, and some don’t. It’s not something I can give a definite answer to; it’s just something you’ll have to wait for and see yourself.”

Jordan nodded, teeth working at his bottom lip. He didn’t listen to whatever else was said, just stared down at his lap, wishing he could disappear somewhere with Zack by his side and no worries of cancer and hair loss to haunt him.

Before he even knew what was happening, a nurse was shaking his shoulder gently, telling him that she was going to take the IV out for him so that he could get dressed and go home. His parents were waiting out in the hallway when he was all re-situated, Mr. Witzigreuter already having gone and filled out the paperwork while Mrs. Witzigreuter leaned against a wall, hands working to dry her face of her tears.

Jordan smiled sadly at her before holding his hand out and taking hers, curling his fingers over the backs of the woman who’d given life to him—the woman who’d have to watch her son lose that life. She let out her own little shaky smile as he walked the two of them to the front entrance of the building, Mr. Witzigreuter only a few steps ahead.

The ride home was silent, save his mother’s muffled sobs, just as most of the night had been. Jordan was scared, confused, and tired. He wanted to sleep, to give himself a night to be alone with his thoughts. He was going to have that, too, until his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He slid the device out, unlocking the screen and then smiling when he saw he had a new message from Zack. The elder boy hadn’t known his boyfriend was going to the hospital, just as Jordan hadn’t known until he was halfway there, so he knew Zack—probably—wouldn’t be freaking out about anything. He was still worried to open it, though, because he knew he had to tell Zack at some point.

Figuring it’d be for the best to break the news in person, he opened the message, reading the text shining up into his eyes: hey, cutie, I didn’t see you earlier to tell you, but I got our prom tickets! There was a picture attached of the two black and teal slips of paper, and Jordan couldn’t help but smile again.

He’d forgotten about prom since he’d arrived at the hospital, which was saying a lot considering it was all he’d really been able to talk about since he realized he’d be able to get in this year because he was dating a senior, being only a junior himself.

He hit the reply button, typing out a quick text of his excitement for the day less than two months away and asking if Zack could come spend the night with him—he knew it was a school night, but it was really important. The older boy had just sent off another text with his agreement as Jordan and his parents pulled into their driveway.

“Mum, Zack’s gonna come spend the night, okay? I wanna... I should tell him as soon as possible.” He knew she wouldn’t say no to him, not after the news he’d been given, and he was right. All she did was nod in understanding.

The small family of three didn’t say a word to each other as they climbed from the car and moved into the house. It was only as Jordan began his ascent up the stairs to his bedroom in order to wait for his boyfriend, having sent a text telling Zack to just walk in when he arrived, did Mrs. Witzigreuter pull him back and wrap her arms around him. She wept quietly for a few moments before pushing him to about half an arm’s length away. The worn mother stared at her tired son for a good handful of seconds, as though to memorize him in that moment, and then she was pulling him back in to kiss his forehead.

“I love you,” she murmured, and Jordan nodded. He didn’t think he could speak, his throat clogging up on him, but he knew he had to do something.

“I’m gonna be okay,” he choked out as she gently tugged him back into another barely-there hug, not wanting to damage him externally any more so than he already was. “I’m gonna be okay, ma. I love you, too.”

A shaky smile was given, and he was released. Jordan attempted to send his father a wave before he disappeared upstairs, but Mr. Witzigreuter was walking closer and repeating the process his wife had previously demonstrated before the teenager could even turn around.

When all proclamations of love and promises of future health were out of the way, Jordan finally made it up to his bedroom. His jeans were peeled off, not being replaced with anything, and then he crawled into bed.

Minutes ticked by so agonizingly slow that Jordan zoned out and simply stared at the wall. He didn’t hear the car pull up outside, nor did he notice his door creep open. The one thing he didn’t fail to register was Zack’s weight jumping on him.

“Zack, get off!” he gasped, doing his best to wiggle from underneath his boyfriend.

“But I’m just so happy to see you, cutie!” Zack countered, slumping his body into dead weight as he felt the younger’s continuous struggle.

“Zack, please,” Jordan begged, and that’s when the tears finally started. The mere thought of how his body would look after the impact was enough to have his stomach churning.

Zack reacted immediately, hopping from the bed and staring down at his boyfriend in shock, confusion, and horror.

“Shit, shit, shit, are you okay? I swear I didn’t mean... fuck, I’m so sorry, Jo, fuck, I—”

“Zack, I have cancer.” Jordan couldn’t hold off any longer, and he was never truly the best with words or his delivery tactic, even if people thought he was.

“Great, now you’re gonna look like an abuse victim and people are gonna think that I—you what.”

It wasn’t a question. It would’ve if it hadn’t been the very last thing Zack expected to be told, but the surprise had his tone sounding too monotone.

A silent stare-down commenced as the couple gazed at one another. Jordan still had tears building in his eyes before spilling over the edge, and Zack had a slack jaw, his eyes wide.

After a few moments of gathering himself, Jordan was whispering out, “I went to the hospital. We just got home. They said I have cancer, and I start chemo tomorrow morning.”

Zack took a moment to allow everything to process before he laughed. “Alright, come on. What did you really have to tell me? Is this about prom? If you can’t pick out a tux, it’s not a—”

“Zack,” Jordan stressed, and he began to cry a little harder at the fact that his boyfriend wouldn’t believe him about such a critical topic. “I have cancer, Zack, and I’m being put on chemo tomorrow.”

Zack didn’t really know what to believe at first, but then the factor of Jordan having previously never cried in front of him kicked into play and he was slowly crawling onto the younger’s bed, pulling their bodies together.

It was serious. It was literally a life or death situation, and he’d laughed at it just moments after jumping on his easier-to-bruise-than-normal boyfriend. If he didn’t get an award for shittiest partner pretty soon, he would be damned.

“Please, don’t leave me,” Jordan begged, snapping Zack from his thoughts of how bad of a person he really was. That confused Zack further—at what point had he said he would be leaving Jordan? “I swear I’m gonna get better, just don’t leave me.”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” the elder cooed, maneuvering their bodies so that Jordan was in his lap and curled against his chest. “I’m not gonna leave, I promise. I’m never gonna leave.”

Jordan didn’t say anything, just allowed his tears to fall as Zack cooed quietly in reassurance. He felt bad, really. Not too much physically, but mentally. Not only was Zack dating the cancer-ridden freak, but that cancer-ridden-freak was shaking and crying like a child in his hold.

“Cutie, hey,” Zack murmured, lips brushing Jordan’s forehead gently. “I’m not gonna leave you to deal with this on your own. I love you, y’know? You’re my baby. You’re gonna get better, and we’re gonna go to prom, and someday, we’re gonna get married.”

Jordan shook his head. “I don’t wanna go to prom anymore,” he muttered around a sniffle.

“And why not?” Zack prompted, kissing Jordan’s hair. If Jordan didn’t want to go, it really didn’t matter, but he’d been so excited those past few months prior with just the knowledge of being able to go that the sudden decision change made zero sense.

“I’m gonna lose my hair,” he explained. He just knew he would. There’s no way the universe would be nice enough to let him keep it.

“And?”

“I’m gonna be ugly. I don’t want to go to a dance with no hair.”

Zack chuckled softly at that. “I don’t think you realize how gorgeous you are,” he retorted, squeezing Jordan’s waist as carefully as physically possible. “You’re still gonna be absolutely stunning.”

Jordan didn’t reply, and the couple spent the rest of their night in silence, basking in the feeling of holding onto each other when they were both at their weakest.

--- ---

The next morning, the young couple was sitting on the couch in Jordan’s living room, waiting for the registered nurse to arrive. Jordan was fidgety, not looking forward to having a needle shoved in his arm, and the thought bothered Zack—who had a... small... fear of needles—as well. He didn’t want to have to so much as look at one, never mind one that’d been stabbed into his precious boyfriend.

A knock on the front door drew their attention, but before either of the two boys could make a move to get up, Mrs. Witzigreuter was bustling out from the kitchen.

When formalities were out of the way, all three members of the Witzigreuter family (and Zack) having introduced themselves, the nurse began to go over the process. The elder boy was still too focused on the thought of what was to come instead of what was being said, and the next thing he knew, Jordan was squeezing his hand.

Zack snapped back into attention to see the nurse getting the IV set up on the other side of his boyfriend, and Jordan didn’t seem all too fond of what was about to happen. Before the woman with the needle could make another move, the taller boy was speaking up again.

“Do you have any extra needles?” he asked, and she seemed rather taken aback.

“I’m afraid I can’t disclo—”

“It’s just,” Zack started, cutting her off as his gaze flicked between the one in her hand and the boy connected to his. “It’s just, I don’t want him to have to, y’know, go through this alone. You don’t have to hook it up to anything, but, uh... y’know?”

The nurse seemed to deliberate it for a few moments, and with each second that passed, the stupider Zack thought his question sounded.

“Well,” she finally mused, nodding her head slowly, “I suppose I can allow that. We’re not necessarily supposed to since it ‘wastes’ needles, but many young people often can’t stand the thought of having to get stuck alone every day.”

Zack thought he was going to be sick.

His left arm was wrapped almost too tightly with a blue band made of rubber much like Jordan’s right. That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the fact that he had to go first.

“You’re trying to show him that it’s not too bad, right? So we’ll get you stuck first, and then we’ll do him. The needle will be taken out almost immediately and only a small tube will remain.” That should’ve made him feel better, but it just had the elder feeling impossibly more squeamish. “Don’t tense up because that’ll just make it hurt more—” funny, that certainly wasn’t the first time he’d been told something like that “—and remember to keep your breathing nice and steady. Jordan will be here to help you along, just like you’ll be here for him. Ready?”

Zack Merrick will forever swear on his great grandmother’s grave that he didn’t cry.

The first day was repeated that entire week, where the boys would sit on the couch (Zack having more or less moved in by that point) and wait for the nurse, let her stick both of them with a needle, and then get ready for their school day once all of Jordan’s medications had been pumped into his ever-weakening frame.

Something everyone had soon come to notice was the fact that Jordan was getting more tired and weaker, yet would sleep less at night. He also wasn’t as up for sex (well, blow jobs and hand jobs, since Jordan was still a virgin and wasn’t totally ready to give himself up completely just yet) as he’d been before, he wasn’t eating nearly as much, and his anxiety appeared to have gotten worse.

Zack would have to carry his books and bag to each class for him, but none of their teachers had a problem with it. If anything, they thought it was sweet. Another thing Jordan’s teachers didn’t mind was the fact that the young boy got sleepy and lost focus easier than he ever had before. He’d fallen totally asleep many times in his classes, only to stay that way until Zack walked in to wake him up for his next class.

It wasn’t only the books and bags Zack had to worry about, of course. There was also the fact that if someone bumped into his boyfriend too hard, he’d be knocked down and even more bruises would surely appear on his frail body. Zack had to be there to kick anyone’s ass if need be. He hadn’t at that point, but that’s not to say he wasn’t fully prepared to.

The three weeks of rest after that first week of chemo were pretty damn helpful, and both boys were a little more prepared for that second week of dosages. Thankfully, there had yet to be any extreme hair-loss, which was a welcome benefit to all of the other downfalls of the treatment.

Jordan, however, still hadn’t changed his mind about prom. Really, it had only made his depression get that much worse. He swore he was fine without it (“We can just go next year, Zack, really, don’t worry about it.”), but the elder knew better than that.

“I want to go with you this year, cutie. I want everyone to see that I have the hottest date,” Zack whispered. The couple was lying on Jordan’s bed, the younger curled into his boyfriend’s chest with the latter’s lips brushing hair even lighter than his own. “I won’t be able to do that next year. None of the people in my year will be there. How am I gonna show you off?”

“You show me off every day, Zack,” Jordan argued, much too tired to really be dealing with whatever was being thrown at him. “You walk me to every single one of my classes. If someone hasn’t seen us together by this point, they’re blind and won’t see us anyway.”

“But you’re never in a tux, baby,” Zack reasoned. “They may see us together in the halls, but they never get to see how gorgeous you are all dressed up. I haven’t gotten to see how gorgeous you are all dressed up, and I don’t wanna have to wait until our wedding day until I do. I want everyone to see that I managed to get the most drop-dead stunning boy in this Godforsaken town, and I want them to see it at prom.”

“I’m too thin,” Jordan retaliated. “I’m going to lose more weight by the time prom comes around in, what, two weeks? My tux won’t even fit me by that point, and I don’t have the money to get another one. My parents can’t afford one for me either, considering my medication bills are through the roof. My hair hasn’t started to fall out yet, but it looks dead no matter what I do to it. I look so much paler by comparison to how I used to, and if you think I wouldn’t be exhausted after even just a half an hour of dancing, you’re so wrong.”

“You don’t look too pale or thin, and your hair doesn’t look dead,” Zack disagreed, and even he knew he was lying. He didn’t think Jordan looked any less perfect than he had before, but it was hard to tell the boy that he didn’t appear to be significantly sicker. “I’m sure we could figure out something with your tux, right? My mom isn’t the greatest when it comes to sewing, but I know she’d be able to fix it up enough to fit you just right.”

“Zack, I don’t want to go,” the younger boy stated, tone firm despite the sleep beginning to take him over. “If you really want to go, fine. I’m sure a lot of people would love to be your date. Just... just don’t kiss them or anything, okay?”

“Baby, I—”

“I’m serious, Zack. Now just go to sleep.”

Within minutes, the seventeen-year-old was more or less passed out. Gentle breaths washed over Zack’s shirt-covered chest, the occasional heavier huff of contentment filling the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. It was only four o’clock on a Thursday afternoon, though, and while he could understand where his boyfriend’s fatigue after such a long day had practically forced him into it, he really couldn’t find it in himself to join in on a nap.

Another five minutes was spent with Zack watching the small boy sleep in his hold, and then he was wiggling his own body free. After being sure Jordan wouldn’t wake up and was covered enough to be kept sufficiently warm, he allowed himself to wander downstairs and into the kitchen.

“Is Jordan sleeping, sweetie?” the voice of Mrs. Witzigreuter asked in a whisper, as though she was afraid her son would hear from all the way upstairs. She, too, sounded like she hadn’t had much sleep in the past few days—or, weeks, really—but it also didn’t sound like she was quite ready to just sit back and relax. How could she? The medication that was supposed to be helping her son get better only seemed to make him worse.

“Yeah,” Zack answered, sending a reassuring smile her way, “he’s been out for about ten minutes now. I figured he’d had a pretty long day with chemo and school and all, so I could let him sleep. He doesn’t sleep much at night no matter what, anyway. It’s just like he’s stopped being tired as soon as the sun goes down. Maybe he doesn’t have cancer, he’s just becoming nocturnal.”

Mrs. Witzigreuter nodded in understanding, even letting a small laugh slip past her lips. She was silent for a moment then before saying, “Thank you.”

“Everyone could use a good la—” Zack tried to dismiss, but then his boyfriend’s mother was stepping forward to pull him into a hug. He could feel her shoulders start to shake against him. Then the tears began to splash onto his shoulder.

“Thank you for being so understanding,” she explained. “Thank you for making sure Jordan gets everything he needs. Thank you for not leaving him at such a major point in his life. Mr. Witzigreuter and I... we just wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t for you. Jordan couldn’t have picked a finer young man to have as a partner.”

Zack didn’t quite know what to say. He was brought back to all of those times in his past where his own mom would hug him in much the same manner, sans the distressing tears, and tell him how proud she was to be his mother. Even though he hadn’t seen her in days, weeks, he knew that she understood why and was still proud of him. Knowing that he could make not only his mom, but his boyfriend’s mom as well, feel the same way just sort of made him feel like he was being hit with wave after wave of emotion. Honestly, even he began to tear up.

“Well, I, uh...” he stuttered, shrugging his shoulders and finally wrapping his arms around the shorter woman. “I, um... I love him. I couldn’t imagine leaving him, especially over something like this.”

Mrs. Witzigreuter leaned away to see the eighteen-(nearly nineteen)-year-old boy a little better, and then she was leaning back in to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “He’s very lucky to have you,” she said, pulling from his arms and reaching up to dry her own face.

“I’m lucky to have him,” Zack disagreed, and Mrs. Witzigreuter smiled. It was no longer shaky, and that made Zack feel pretty damn accomplished.

“Always so sweet,” she muttered, turning and walking towards the fridge. “I’m sorry, sweetie, did you come down for something? Is there anything I can get for you?”

The young boy was about to shake his head, answer with a, ‘No, I just didn’t feel up for lying in bed,’ but then he stopped and thought for a moment. Really, if anyone could make a decent case as to why prom would be a good idea, even with a slightly baggy suit, it’d be Jordan’s mother, right?

“Well,” he began, moving to pull a chair from under the kitchen table and plopping down onto the hard wood, “when I was upstairs, me and Jordan were talking about prom... he told you he doesn’t want to go anymore, right?”

Mrs. Witzigreuter stopped her rummaging in the fridge almost immediately before standing up straight to close the door. When she turned to face the teen, her eyes were filled with confusion.

“No, I... why would he not want to go to... he was so excited about going to prom with you?” She didn’t sound upset about it, but she also had that same mindset as Zack did when it came to Jordan and prom.

“He said that first night that he didn’t want to go anymore because he’d lose his hair and a bunch of other sh—oops... but I just talked to him about it again before he fell asleep, and he still doesn’t want to go. He thinks he looks worse than he really does. Not that he looks bad because, I mean, he’s... he’s still just as beautiful as ever, but he can tell he looks sicklier. He’s just taking it too far. He thinks he’s lost so much more weight and color and energy than he actually has. I want to take him so bad, and I know for a fact he wants to go more than anything, but he keeps shooting me down whenever I bring it up. I was hoping that maybe you could talk to him for me?”

Mrs. Witzigreuter didn’t hesitate to nod her agreement. “Of course, sweetie, of course,” she assured. “I’ll talk to him as soon as he wakes up. You just send him down, and I’ll see what I can do to help.”

Zack grinned. “Thanks, mama Witzigreuter. I owe you one.”

“No, sweetheart,” Mrs. Witzigreuter chastised gently, shaking her head and waving her hands around in the air to help further emphasize her point. “We owe you.”

Zack waved his dismissal much like the tall woman had moments prior. “You feed me and haven’t kicked me out yet. I’d say we’re pretty even at this point,” he reasoned. Before she could reply, the teenager had hopped to his feet and walked from the room, heading straight up to his still-sleeping boyfriend.

Only, Jordan wasn’t sleeping any longer. Instead, the younger boy was sitting up in the bed with wide, tearful eyes. His bottom lip was quivering gently, but he wasn’t making any noise. Then he saw Zack.

“I thought you got sick of me,” he blubbered, reaching out both arms like a small child. “I thought you... I thought maybe you got mad at me for not wanting to go to...”

“Sh, hey,” Zack soothed, stepping further into the room to sit on the edge of the bed. After helping Jordan untangle his legs from his duvet, the elder boy was pulling the smaller into his lap. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna go. I’m not mad at you, okay? I’m not leaving until I know you’re better. I... shit, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, like, I’m only gonna leave your side for more than, like, ten minutes at a time when I know you’re not sick anymore, y’know? Like... like then I won’t have to worry so much about you all the time. I’m still gonna love you after this. I’m not just here because you’re sick or anything. I’m here because I love you and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else while you’re going through this.”

Jordan could only to bring himself to nod before snuggling himself further into his boyfriend’s warm chest. Within less than a handful of minutes, he was letting out gentle snores once more. That time, Zack didn’t dare leave until his partner had woken up.

--- ---

“Jo?” Zack said the morning before prom. The younger had just woken up (or, Zack at least assumed he did, judging by the sigh he let out before pushing his thin body closer to the taller boy’s), and while Zack sort of hated himself for what he was about to do, he knew that he still had to do it. When Jordan hummed and tilted his head enough so that his pointed chin was pressed against his partner’s chest, blue eyes boring up at him through the dim lighting, Zack continued. “I haven’t been home in a while, baby. I don’t want to leave you, but I think I should at least go spend some time with my mom, y’know? I haven’t seen her or my dad in weeks now.”

Jordan’s eyes seemed to get just that little bit sadder with each syllable that left Zack’s lips, but he gave an understanding nod all the same. Zack sighed before lifting his hand to run it affectionately through his boyfriend’s hair. A few strands clung to his skin when he pulled it away, and he did his best to not give anything away. The younger boy hadn’t quite noticed how much more of his hair was falling out than usual, but it was only a matter of time.

“You want me to help you take a shower or something before I go?” Zack asked, the hand that’d been combing through dead hair instead taking to rubbing gently at the younger’s back. Jordan shook his head after a moment of thought.

He pushed himself up on his thin arms, nearly falling from being so off balance, and then leaned down to give Zack a kiss. “Think I’m just gonna sleep some more. Will you be back later?” He sounded so hopeful that Zack couldn’t have refused even if he wanted to.

“Of course I’ll be back. It’s just for a few hours, okay? Call me if you need anything at all, baby boy. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Zack wriggled himself from under Jordan’s body with that, only stopping to leave one more kiss on awaiting lips before he was marching himself from his partner’s bedroom and heading downstairs in search of Mrs. Witzigreuter.

As expected, she was sitting at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of coffee held between her hands. She was staring out of the window positioned over the sink, her eyes dark from lack of sleep and her features completely blank. That look, Zack had come to notice, had just gotten worse with the passing days.

“Mama W?” he called when he was within distance to not disrupt her too much. She jumped all the same, head turning to look at him as he stepped closer. “Think you could give Jordan the prom talk one more time for me? It’s tomorrow night. I’m gonna head over to my place and check on how my mom’s coming along with fixing up his suit now. I’ll be back in a little bit, okay? Jordan should still be awake upstairs. He said he was gonna sleep a little more, but I don’t know.”

Mrs. Witzigreuter nodded before setting her mug on the table and standing to give Zack a parting hug. “I’ll call you to let you know if I can change his mind at all.”

Zack gave a solemn nod of his own before he was leaving the residence in favor of returning to his own. His mother had known of his upcoming visit for about a week beforehand, and she immediately opened the door when his car pulled into the driveway, as though she’d been watching for him from the front window.

Zack wouldn’t have doubted it.

“Hey, ma,” he said as she pulled him into her body, squeezing him close.

“Hi, baby,” she murmured back before stepping away and ushering him into the house. His dad was sitting in the living room on the left, tired eyes paying close attention to whatever it was that had been put on the television. On the right, in what his parents had deemed ‘the sitting room,’ was a mannequin that resembled Jordan’s own form.

“Is it done?” he asked after walking around it a few times, looking for any pieces that hadn’t been sewn into place yet. When he found nothing, he glanced over to his mom.

“It’d be easier to do this if he was actually here to try it on,” she said with a shrug and bite to the lip. “What do you think? I don’t want to make it too small for him or anything. If it’s too big, I’m sure I could just pin it all up into place before you boys leave.”

Zack dared to push his arm through one of the sleeves as a sort of test. It was pretty snug on him, but not too tight, so he figured that it would fit well enough… if Jordan even agreed. His mom would be so disappointed if the younger boy didn’t at least try the tuxedo on after all of the hard work she’d put into it.

“This is great, ma,” Zack assured as he moved around to hug her again. “I’ll come by and pick it up tomorrow morning, okay? He’s still not too keen on the idea of going, but I’m gonna keep trying.”

“He’s gonna agree, baby,” Mrs. Merrick whispered, sending him a smile. “You make that boy so happy… he’d be crazy not to go with you.”

--- ---

The very next morning, Jordan awoke feeling a little more refreshed than usual. He wasn’t sure what it was, but everything just felt… good. Zack’s arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, and the sun was streaming through the window, and then he thought about how he’d agreed to be Zack’s date to prom. It wasn’t the knowledge that he was going that made him feel good, but it was the memory of how the older boy’s face had lit up, the way he’d been kissed, and it might’ve also been what Zack had done to his body after the fact.

Jordan couldn’t help but lay on Zack’s still-sleeping body as he thought back to what had happened only hours prior. Every square inch of his skin had been kissed so sweetly, praised so sincerely, and the release that rushed through him when Zack had finally wrapped his large hand around both of them had been one of the most intense he’d felt in his entire life. It had been so long since he’d felt such euphoria that he hadn’t been sure his body was still capable of enduring it. He just hoped that he’d have enough energy for that night—he wanted Zack to have all of him, in every sense of the word.

It was as Jordan was lifting his head to catch a glimpse of his sleeping boy… or, rather, sleeping man… that he heard it. The faintest sound of scratching forced its way through his thoughts of love. Jordan stopped moving to listen to it, thinking that maybe the area it came from would make itself known if he focused on it, but he was met with nothing. After a few minutes of waiting in anxious anticipation, Jordan shrugged to himself and continued on with what he’d been doing before. It was as he’d finally propped his chin on his boyfriend’s chest that he caught sight of it.

Clumps of hair, his hair, were spread over the head of the bed. Most of it was in pieces around Jordan’s pillow, and he couldn’t stop the tears as he sat up and began to gather it all in his hands.

Zack was awoken by the sound of hysterics that bordered on being complete screams, his heart pounding hard in his chest as he sat up. His arms moved to position themselves around Jordan’s waist once more before he even knew the reason behind the crying. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Jordan pushed him away and then ran toward the bathroom, his hands cradled close to his chest and his head ducked down in shame.

The sound of the door slamming was what set Zack back into motion, and he took barely a moment to thank the heavens that Jordan had been in too much of a rush to lock the door behind himself in his desperate rush to be alone.

His thanks, however, were cut off in his own mind mid-thought when he finally caught sight of his partner. Jordan was stood in front of the mirror, still sobbing too hard for it to be considered even remotely healthy. The hair that had once sat proudly on top of his head had been dropped in the sink. The younger boy still had bits of hair on his head, but his shaky hands were doing their best to pick up the pieces in the porcelain bowl in front of him in an attempt to get them to stick to his skin once more.

The frail boy’s hands clenched when he finally started to realize that no matter what he did, his appearance wasn’t going to change for the better. Zack stepped forward with that, coaxing his partner’s hands open despite the struggle that was put up. When his hands were as clear of as many locks as Zack could singlehandedly brush away, Jordan was being scooped up into the taller’s hold and being carried back out to the bedroom.

Mrs. Witzigreuter was just making her way up the stairs as Zack passed them by, and the look he sent her way was enough for her to understand that Jordan just needed to be alone to grieve over his loss.

Once inside the bedroom, Zack resumed sitting on the edge of the mattress, Jordan still weeping in his lap. It took an hour (or an eternity, in the elder’s opinion) for Jordan to regulate his breathing and come back down to the real world. Then, however, he kept pushing Zack away.

“I don’t want you to see me,” he would whimper.

“Baby boy, I still think that you’re gorgeous,” Zack would murmur.

“You don’t want to be seen with me anymore,” Jordan would disagree.

“You’re the only person I wanna be seen with,” Zack would vow.

“I don’t wanna be seen,” Jordan said, finally looking up to make eye contact with his partner. His vision was still heavily blurred, tears streaming down his thin cheeks, and his bottom lip was trembling harshly.

“I wanna show you off, baby boy,” Zack retorted, leaning down to kiss away the sob bubbling on the smaller boy’s lips. “You’re still the sexiest boy in the world, you know that? I don’t love you because of your hair. I’ve never loved you just because of your body. I love absolutely everything about you. I love your personality, and your sense of humor, and I love that you love me. You do love me, right, baby?”

Jordan nodded, not even bothering with trying to vocalize his thoughts or feelings any longer.

“Even on the outside, you’re still as sexy as ever. Nothing’s gonna change that. You could walk outside and lose your arm, and I’d still be in love with you. You’re my baby; nothing you do or say is ever going to change how I feel about you. I care about you more than anything else in the world, and I promise that isn’t going to change.” Not a word was said, and when Zack figured nothing was going to be said at all, he leaned forward to kiss at the top of his boyfriend’s head. “How ‘bout we go get you cleaned up, huh? I’m sure your mom has a razor or something we can use. I’ll help you take a shower after, alright? Then I’m gonna take you out for some breakfast or something. How does that sound? I’ll find you a beanie or something.”

Jordan coughed and squeezed his eyes closed before nodding. He wasn’t ready to face facts, but maybe hiding himself under a beanie and spending the day pretending that he was a little more normal would make him feel like he had before.

--- ---

“What time did Zack say he was supposed to be here?” Mrs. Witzigreuter asked as she finished making sure that not a single fold was out of place on her son’s tuxedo. Zack had grabbed it on the way back from his and Jordan’s day out before he’d left once more with a kiss and a promise to be back soon. It fit well, much better than Jordan had been expecting it to when he’d first seen it, but it still made him feel a little uncomfortable.

“Dunno,” Jordan mumbled as he looked toward the ground, doing his best at not getting upset over his hair loss once more. It was all gone, really gone, and he wasn’t allowed to wear the beanie to prom since it was against the dress code. It wasn’t like he could back out either, not with how Zack had pleaded with him when he’d attempted to back out just that morning.

He was starting to get a bit fidgety, too, not knowing how much longer he’d have to wait. What if Zack didn’t even show up? What if he’d decided in his absence that he didn’t love Jordan as much as he’d originally thought he did? What if he realized that he could have anyone he—

At the sound of a knock on the front door, Mrs. Witzigreuter straightened up from her inspection and grinned widely at her son before stepping to the side. Jordan could hear the door open, could hear his dad greeting his boyfriend, and then there was the sound of footsteps moving closer and closer until—

“You look gorgeous, baby boy.”

Jordan glanced up from where he’d focused his gaze on the shine at the toe of his shoe, and while he’d been about to force a smile, he ended up pouting. Zack was wearing a beanie. Jordan wasn’t allowed to wear one, but there was Zack, a black beanie pulled down past his ears. He could appreciate the fact that it was probably only there because Zack didn’t want to flaunt what he had, but then the older boy was reaching it up to pull it from the top of his head.

Within seconds, all three Witzigreuter’s were in full-blown tears. All Zack did was stand there in the middle of the room with a bashful smile on his face, eyes watching the way Jordan’s shaky hands lifted to cover his mouth before he was stepping forward and wrapping his arms tightly around the elder’s neck.

Instead of hair, which Zack valued (not quite) as much as Jordan valued his own, there was smooth skin.

After a few moments of getting all of his emotions out, Jordan was leaning back in Zack’s hold to give his lover a watery smile. His hands seemed to have a mind of their own as they reached up, almost as though to make sure that what he was seeing was real and not just a trick of the mind.

“Did you… did you do this for me?” he asked quietly after a moment of sweeping his fingers by Zack’s temple and then brushing them down the back of the older boy’s head. When Zack nodded, Jordan tugged him down by the back of his neck for a kiss. It was almost a little too passionate, what with the fact that his parents were still in the room, but they didn’t matter at that moment.

Zack was the one to pull away at the sound of a camera shutter clicking closed, but all Jordan did was bury his face in his partner’s chest. Mrs. Witzigreuter waved at him, as though she was trying to tell him to just go with it, and he nodded his understanding before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of Jordan’s head.

More pictures were taken, some with the couple holding each other and smiling at the camera with some of them being more candid shots, and then farewells were being exchanged.

“You boys be safe, alright?” Mr. Witzigreuter called from the front porch as Zack held Jordan’s door open for him. The teens both gave their own small salutes once they were situated in the car, and then before long, they were driving to the high school in a comfortable silence. Their fingers were laced together over the center console, and Jordan couldn’t stop the small smile on his lips even if he wanted to.

Once they’d finally made it to the gymnasium, Jordan felt more confident with himself than he had since he’d started to lose weight. The sympathetic smiles were something he definitely could’ve gone without, but he didn’t focus on them. After the formal pictures were taken just inside the entrance, a table was sought out and the younger boy took a few moments to work his fading energy back up.

People would stop by to ask how he was feeling, wish him luck with the rest of his treatment, and then continue on to enjoy the rest of their evening. Of course, that was worse than the sad smiles he’d been given from across the room—he couldn’t ignore people actually talking to him. After the fifth couple stopped by, Jordan had had more than enough of it.

“Can we go outside or something?” he asked, holding his hand out to his partner and giving his best puppy dog eyes.

“Don’t you wanna dance or something?” Zack asked, but he knew the answer to that before it even had the chance to be voiced.

“We can dance outside. Please?”

Really, who was Zack to deny him such a simple request? With their hands linked between them once more (which soon turned into Jordan clinging onto his boyfriend’s arm and leaning into his side so that there was less a chance of people knocking into him), the pair made their way out into the courtyard.

White Christmas lights glowed along the edge of the rooftops, and a few rows decorated the grass. There were strings of the small bulbs hanging from the gazebo that the woodwork class three years prior had done, and the only sound above that of nature around them was the faint pumping of the music from inside the building behind them.

Zack led them there, and once they were stood in the center, his arms immediately wrapped themselves around Jordan’s thin waist to pull their bodies together. Jordan’s linked together around the taller boy’s neck, and he pulled Zack down so that their clean-shaven foreheads pressed against one another.

The song playing was something upbeat and quick, but that didn’t stop the couple from swaying around in slow circles like they were the only two people without a care in the world. Everything just felt so… so easy. He felt light, like he was floating just above the ground. With his eyes closed and as much of his body pressed against Zack’s, he allowed himself to not feel scared for the first time in what felt like forever.

--- ---

“Tomorrow’s your last day of chemo, baby!” Zack all but screamed through the halls a little less than a month later, having spotted his partner amongst the crowd and started pushing through them all. Jordan smiled and nodded, not having the energy to display as much enthusiasm as his partner had. He was excited, of course he was, but he was still so tired. He couldn’t wait until he’d start feeling like his old self again. He just really hoped that the treatment had done its job.

“We’re gonna skip school to celebrate, okay? I’m gonna stop by extra early like usual so we can get the needles out of the way, and then we’re gonna go to breakfast, and then maybe a movie, and then lunch, and I was thinking that maybe we could head down to the mall so that you could pick out some presents or something, yeah? And then we can do dinner somewhere else, and after that, we can do whatever you want. How does that sound? We can do something else, too, if you don’t wanna—”

“Zack,” he said with what could be considered a giggle, “you don’t have to do anything. Just be there for me. That’s all I want from you.”

“But I wanna take you out,” Zack protested with a shake of his still-hairless head. “You deserve it. I’m so proud of you, y’know? You’re brave, and you’re a survivor, and I love you.”

Jordan tried to hide the smile that pulled itself onto his lips, but when his boyfriend’s arms wrapped around his waist, he couldn’t help but lean into the warm figure and grin with everything he had in him. “I wouldn’t’ve been able to do it without you,” he murmured, peeking up through his eyelashes before pushing himself up on his toes for a kiss.

Zack rolled his eyes but returned the kiss nonetheless, only pulling away when the bell rang for class to start.

--- ---

“Are you scared?” Zack asked softly as his thumb swept soothingly over the back of Jordan’s hand. Two weeks after the chemo treatments had ended, the final test results had come in. The Witzigreuter’s (and Zack) had been sat in the hospitals waiting room for twenty minutes, and tensions were getting higher with the passing seconds. They all knew that there was still that chance that the chemo hadn’t worked, and they were all but worrying themselves sick with nerves.

Jordan only gave a shrug as an answer before he was leaning himself into his partner’s side for comfort.

“Jo…” Zack trailed out, squeezing at the hand still held in his own.

The younger shrugged again before sighing. “I don’t know,” he admit. “I feel better than I have in a while, and my hair’s starting to grow back, and I’m getting my color and weight back, but I think those were all just side effects of the chemo. I’m not in pain or anything, but… I don’t know. Should I be afraid?” He peeked up through his eyelashes at that, blue eyes showing a mix of fear and bravery.

Zack shook his head. “I don’t think you should be. I know that you kicked its ass. You’re my tough, little cookie.”

Jordan didn’t make any snappy replies about how he wasn’t little (because he knew he was) or about being called a cookie (because at least he was Zack’s cookie), and simply let his gaze wander around the room before landing on the ticking clock on the door. He almost didn’t notice when his name was being called by a nurse stood in the doorway just below the clock, but Zack had scooped him up bridal style and carried him across the room before he could so much as blink.

That was something he really couldn’t just ignore.

Inside Dr. Miller’s office, the man was standing behind his desk with a folder opened in front of him and a grin stretched across his face. Before any of the Witzigreuter’s (or Zack) could say anything, he was clapping his hands and giving a rather loud, “Congratulations, Jordan!”

Jordan, still in his boyfriend’s hold, didn’t have time to respond before the older teen was twisting him around in his arms and pressing their lips together. It was a feverish kiss, one much worse than the one Jordan had given Zack on the night of prom, but no one attempted to stop them. When breathing became a necessity, though, both of his hands moved to press against Zack’s cheeks to push him away.

Without skipping a single beat, Zack was whispering, “I knew you could do it, my little fighter.”

And the only way Jordan knew how to respond was by diving in for another kiss.