Jefferson's p.o.v

It's nearly 1 p.m now. My room is deserted, apart from me, obviously, and for once I'm sort of glad for the solitude. This past week has been a torrent of affection and pity, and I really need a break from it.

My family has gone home now. The younger ones have to go back to school, and Dad does have a job. They only left yesterday, but I already miss them. Laf is still here, though.

James has come every day for as long as they'll let him. He can't bear to stay the night, though. I can tell that he desperately wants to, but the sight of me upsets him, I think. I understand. The sight of me would upset me too.

My hair is horribly limp, having lost most of its bounce. Crusts are forming around my lips and they won't disappear however much you scrub them or pick at them. If you pick at them, both your doctor and your boyfriend slaps your hand away and scolds you. Only one of them is cute.

I suppose I've sort of got used to the throwing up now. The diahorrea is possibly the most horrible thing in existence, and I'm tired all the time, which is bizarre because all I do is lie there and daydream. Or watch YouTube videos. Or Netflix and chill when James comes.

We're watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine today. Well, the end of Season One, anyway. It's the highlight of my day. It's the only thing I have to look forward to, isn't it?

All of a sudden, there is a gentle knock on my door. I haven't realised that I'm falling asleep, so my head jerks up and I look around the room. It's just as empty as it was before. Then I realise that the sound must have come from the door and grunt to signal that they can enter.

Washington tentatively sticks his head round the door, smiling at me. I move the bed into an upright position and grin back as best I can.

"How are we doing today?" he asks as he comes forward, shutting the door with his foot and sitting next to my bed.

"You know what, not too bad," I reply, resisting the urge to rub the sores on my lips. "No diahorrea today, so that's always a bonus."

Washington smiles again, and we begin the madatory checks. Y'know, temperature, heartbeat, blood pressure, the norm.

"James coming round later, then?" he says as he pumps the blood pressure cuff.

"Of course," I answer, trying to refrain from sneezing. For some reason the blood pressure cuff sparks something in my brain that makes me want to sneeze. "We're watching Netflix again."

"It's nice to see you two relaxing," Washington tells me, glancing down at the reading then back up at me. "Most visitors are usually more riled up than the patients themselves! James seems very calm about the whole thing."

"At least he can appear calm," I mutter, eyes sliding to the side. "Me, I can't even manage that."

"Well, it's understandable, I suppose," he muses as he starts to pack his equipment away. "This huge thing has suddenly come along and the world turned upside down for you. One could allow a bit of a freak-out on your part."

"Great, thanks for capturing my pain so articulately."

He laughs a little, moving towards the door.

"Just don't wear yourself out like last time."

My face heats up and I look to the floor.

"You heard that?" I mumble. He laughs again.

"Thomas, the entire floor heard you."

He waves a little. "Don't forget to use protection!"

"It wasn't-!" I try to call after him, but he's already gone.

Honestly, it wasn't what you think! I just... I had a really bad itch on my back and James was hitting just the right spot, okay!? Happy now? Course you are, you smug bastard.

Sorry. Mood swing.

The door creaks again, and this time I know it's James from the slight shadow on the wall and the way the door opens. When you have one thing to look forward to, you learn a fuckton about that thing.

"Jemmy!" I squeal a little too desperately before he's even in the room. Sad, huh?

"Hey, Tommy," he says, coming into the room. He sounds tired and looks exhausted as he sits on the edge of the bed. "Sorry I'm a bit late."

"You're not-" I start to say, but then I look at the clock. It's half 2. When did it get the half 2!?!?! I must've zoned out big-time. "It doesn't matter, you're here now. Did you bring the laptop?"

"Yeah," he smiles, pulling it out of his bulging bag. "I brought a surprise."

Then he pulls a projector out of his bag! I gasp, taking it from him and turning it over in my hands.

"This is incredible!" I gush, handing it back to him so he can plug it in. "When did you get it? How?"

"Well, you know how Mr Macnamara always has those boring lectures in the massive hall?" he says. I nod. "Well, I just asked him nicely and he gave it to me!"

He flicks the lights off and shuts the curtains, hooking up the laptop. Soon the Netflix symbol appears on the wall. He plugs in a couple of speakers, he lies next to me and we start watching.

"This is nice," I murmur into his hair. "Just wish it didn't have to happen here."

He looks up at me.

"I promise you that this time next year, we'll sneak into Mr Macnamara's lecture hall and we'll do this there," he says, sounding dead sincere. "And you'll be in complete remission. I promise."

Don't make promises you can't keep, James.

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Wow, look at that. I managed to write another chapter within a month. Victory! Hope you enjoyed!