ZAYN: “Just do it, Zayn!” She cried. I took a deep breath as I held the buzzing razor in my hands. I lowered it to her head, and slid it back and forth until there was no hair left. I looked at her in the mirror, her eyes were closed. “It’s done, baby.” I said softly. She slowly opened her eyes and burst into tears again. I didn’t know what to do, I stood frozen. She wiped her face, then stood up and ran into our bedroom. I gathered her beautiful locks that lied on the floor and threw them out. I put away the razor and walked into the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her side. She turned over so she was facing me, returning to her position in a tight ball. “Talk to me.” I said. “I’m so ugly.” She cried. “You’re not ugly. You’re absolutely beautiful. If anything, I like you better with no hair. I can see your face; all your beauty.” “You’re my boyfriend, you have to say that.” She scoffed. “I mean it though. And now, if you wear those cool ear cuffs that I bought you, I’ll actually be able to see them.” “Yeah…” She reasoned, “Can we just cuddle?” “I’d be more than happy to cuddle with you, beautiful.” She giggled, showing me her gorgeous smile. I climbed over her, taking my spot in our bed, her head landed in its usual spot on my chest. She wrapped her legs through mine, her cold toes coming in contact with my bare feet. “Your feet are warm.” She whispered. “Your feet are cold.” I whispered back. We cuddled in silence for a few minutes. “Do you think we’ll ever get used to it?” She asked. “Get used to what?” “Cancer; Chemo, me being sick and tired, me being bald. Do you think you’ll get used to it?” “I don’t think I really matter in that question. Will you ever get used to it?” I shot back. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to having one boob.” She laughed. “I think it makes you more unique. You’ll have a great story to tell our kids; how you were diagnosed with breast cancer, and how their amazing father helped their survivor of a mother get through it.” She smiled at the thought, “Yeah, I guess so.” I kissed her on the forehead, “Sleep tight.” I whispered
LIAM: “What are you drawing?” I asked her. “The beach.” She responded. “I like it.” I said, shifting on the side of her hospital bed. “It’s not done yet.” She said. “Okay. How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” I asked. “My head hurts and I can’t feel my legs.” She stated, picking up a red pencil. She wasn’t paralyzed, just numb. “Okay I’ll be right back.” I said. I found a nurse and told her that [Y/N] was having pain again. She told me she’d get a doctor to administer more morphine in a minute. I walked back to [Y/N]’s room. I stood in the doorway for a moment and admired her. She looked somewhat child-like, sitting in the hospital bed, red beanie on her head, IVs in each arm. I walked into the room and resumed my place in the chair next to her bed. “The doctor will be here in a minute.” She took a deep breath, “I need water, Li.” I grabbed her cup of water, and held it out for her to hold. She slowly brought it to her mouth. I put my hand under the cup in case she were to drop it. Her right hand shook steadily as she handed me the cup. That was one of the first symptoms that showed up. One morning she woke up and couldn’t stop her right hand from shaking. I took her to a doctor where they ran some tests, and told us she had a cancerous brain tumor. She’s had multiple surgeries to try to remove it, but now they’ve resorted to convection-enhanced delivery, just to keep it from growing. The tumor is right in the mobility section of her brain, and she hasn’t been able to walk for months. She never went through chemotherapy; it’s ineffective on the brain because of the blood-brain barrier, but she’s still bald after all the surgeries. They implanted little shockers near the tumor that keep it from spreading, and luckily she can’t feel a thing- except the headaches. She continued to draw her picture and the doctor came into the room. “Having some pain, Miss [Y/N]?” He asked sweetly. She nodded her head. “Alright. Well, I’ll give you some well needed morphine. You’re getting another spinal tap this afternoon.” He chuckled. She grunted in annoyance. He added the morphine to her IV and left, only to come back hours later, giant needle in hand. Nurses rolled [Y/N] onto her side before they took yet another sample of her spinal fluid. She gritted her teeth and squeezed my hand as they pulled the syringe out. She was rolled onto her back, where she quickly fell asleep. I moved closer to her, and pressed a kiss to her hand, “I love you.” I whispered.
LOUIS: I woke up when [Y/N] gave me a quick shove and then jumped out of bed. The bathroom light was turned on, followed by her muttering a string of curses. I slowly got out of bed and grabbed a clean shirt from the dresser and entered the bathroom. She stood, leaning on the counter, fingers holding her nose. I set the shirt down on the sink before grabbing a washcloth and wiping the big drops of blood that dripped from her chin, and on the bathroom floor. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled, her voice nasally. “Shh, you have nothing to be sorry about.” I whispered in her ear, rubbing her bruised, bald head. “I’m a lot of work, Lou. If I haven’t wet the bed then I’m spewing blood from one hole or another.” I chuckled, “You can’t help any of that, babe.” She was quiet for a moment. “You know what?” She turned around and looked at me, her big, glossy, bloodshot eyes, piercing. “I can’t help any of it!” She yelled. I nodded my head. “It’s not my fault that my kidneys don’t work! It’s not my fault that I was diagnosed with leukemia! It’s not my fault that now I’m bleeding internally!” She removed her hand from her nose, to find that it had stopped bleeding. She wiped her face again and changed shirts, climbing back into bed. I lied down next to her, running my fingers over her bruised arms. “I’m gonna take you somewhere tomorrow, okay?” She nuzzled her head closer into my neck, “Okay.” She mumbled. The next morning we got dressed and got in the car. I got on the highway and drove for half an hour, before taking an off-ramp and driving to the middle of nowhere. We got out of the car and I instructed [Y/N] to scream. “Scream what?” She asked. “Anything.” She took a deep breath, “I LOVE YOU, LOUIS!” I smiled. “Again.” “I LOVE YOU, LOUIS TOMLINSON!” “Try again.” “I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU, LOUIS WILLIAM TOMLINSON!” “Try something else.” She grunted. “What?!” “Something else. Something about yourself.” “MY NAME’S [Y/N]!” “More.” “AND I HAVE CANCER!” “‘Atta girl.” “AND I HATE MY CANCER! I HATE IT WITH A PASSION! I WISH IT WOULD GO AWAY, BUT IT DOESN’T! IT MAKES ME SICK AND TIRED AND I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SHIT!” she took a deep breath, “CANCER IS A BITCH! CANCER IS A VERY STUCK-UP BITCH! I HATE CANCER! CANCER CAN GO FUCK ITSELF… WITH A CACTUS! CANCER THINKS IT CAN BEAT ME, MAYBE IT WILL! BUT I’M NOT GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT! SO FUCK YOU CANCER! FUCK YOU!!!” “That’s what I wanted.” I told her. “That felt awesome.” She smiled. “Good, I’m glad,” I kissed her, “Let’s go home.” I whispered.
HARRY: “Dance with me.” I whispered in [Y/N]’s ear. “I’m too cold.” She whined. “And what does that have to do with dancing?” I chuckled. “I’m not getting out of bed, therefore I’m not dancing with you.” “Awww, sweetheart… I’ll get you some warm stuff, then we’ll dance.” I walked into our closet and grabbed her favorite fuzzy socks and a sweatshirt. I walked over to the bed and pulled back the blankets and put the socks on [Y/N]’s feet. “Your hands are cold, Harry!” She giggled. “Sorry, baby.” I said, helping her sit up. I pulled the sweatshirt over her bald head, and guided her casted arms through the sleeves. She had broken both wrists and fractured her pelvis when she fell getting out of the car. [Y/N] had been diagnosed with osteosarcoma, or bone cancer. She had been so strong so far, but just a few nights ago her oncologist called and informed us that the cancer had spread to some very important organs. Neither of us wanted to talk about it. It was a death sentence. I helped her out of bed, and held her close to me. “Owww…” She moaned, setting her head on my shoulder. “What hurts, love?” “Everything,” She sighed, “my feet, my legs, my back and my neck.” My stomach flipped at the thought of her in pain; it did everytime. “I’m sorry.” I whispered, helping her back into bed. “It’s not your fault.” She said, laying back on her side, curling into sort of a fetal position. “I just keep forgetting that you’re sick and hurting. I was so used to it… You just being- okay.” “Thanks for reminding me that I’m dying.” She said quietly. “You’re not dying [Y/N].” I said firmly. “Denying it won’t make the cancer go away, Harry.” “I’m not denying it [Y/N]. It’s called being optimistic.” I said gently. “No Harry! It’s called being unrealistic. My death is inevitable! There’s nothing you can do about it!” She cried. “Well can we at least be happy until you die? Not all sad and mopey?” I asked loudly. “How do you expect me to be happy when I’m dying, Harry?! How?!” I was silent. How could I expect her to be happy when she was dying? How? “I can’t,” I murmured, “I can’t expect you to be happy.” [Y/N] didn’t say anything. The room was silent. I slowly turned to walk out of our bedroom, “Harry,” she started, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-” I turned around, “No. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. You have every reason to be sad and mopey and upset. And when I gave you that wedding ring I made a promise to you. I made you my sole purpose in life. To protect you, to-to love you, and to make you happy. And I’m not making you happy right now. I know I sound redundant right now, but… but…” “I know, Harry. I get it, but right now… can we just, like, forget everything? I don’t want to think about it right now and I just want you… I just want to be held, and told everything’s okay.” She cried. I laid in bed while she cried and held her close. “Everything’s gonna be okay.” I whispered.
NIALL: “I don’t even want to go today.” [Y/N] sighed. “Why are you so nervous?” I asked with a chuckle. “Because it could be bad news, Niall!” She whined. “Well… it’s your body. Tell me, do you feel any cancer in there?” I poked her stomach. “No, but-” “No buts!” I laughed. “You’re so lame.” She laughed. “[Y/N], do you honestly feel like you still have cancer?” I asked. “No. I don’t feel like I have cancer.” “Good,” I said, “I read that if you feel like you don’t have cancer that your hair grows quicker.” “My hair is growing pretty fast, though,” she smiled, “it seems darker than I remember.” She ran a hand over the fine hairs that covered her otherwise bald head. “It’s beautiful.” I said, rubbing her shoulder. I watched as she got ready, and we left for the doctor’s office. “Hey, [Y/N]’s tummy, you better not have any bad stuff in you. We won’t be very happy if the doctor tells us that you’re still sick.” “Oh my god, you sound so immature when you say it like that. It’s cervical cancer, not tummy sickness.” [Y/N] laughed. “Whatever…” I scoffed, acting offended. We arrived at the doctor’s office and walked inside. She got checked in and we sat in the waiting room. “Oh my god, this is taking forever.” She tapped her feet nervously. “I know, love.” I sighed. “Ni, I just want you to know that no matter what the news is, I’m going to be a crying mess.” “I’m right with you, princess.” I rubbed my thumb over her hand. We waited for what felt like hours. Finally a nurse came out and asked for [Y/N]. She led us into an office where we waited for what seemed like another hour. The doctor came in and sat behind the desk, “Now I could sit here and ramble to you about all the dumb things that come with cervical cancer; irregular menstrual cycles, no natural child birth, yadda, yadda, yadda… But I think you want we to get straight to the PET scan results,” [Y/N] and I nodded our heads, “It’s good news.” He whispered. “Oh my god!” [Y/N] wailed. We threw our arms around each other and cried for a minute before composing ourselves. We still were sniffling as we left the doctor. “We need to celebrate.” I said as we got into the car. “Yeah, I think we do.” She said, checking her reflection in the mirror. I drove us to the closest restaurant and we ordered a bunch of food. “Let’s toast.” I said. “To remission.” She smiled. “To remission.” I echoed, kissing her lips.