The chairs in the waiting room on the fourth floor don't feel quite right to her. They're the same chairs she usually sits in with Cooper in the lobby; except they're not. They're much too stiff, she doesn't feel welcome in her seat. And as if the bad back she'll acquire from her thirty minutes of waiting isn't awful enough, the fabric scratching away at her skin, as if she's a pest invading its personal space, does the trick.

But the worst part of it all, beyond the stiffness and the scratching, is her lack of companionship.

She stares down at her phone, contemplating whether or not she wants to check it again. She knows what she'll find, but against her better judgment, she presses down on the button on the side anyway. Her screen illuminates to show nothing but the date and time. No text messages. No calls. Not even a push notification from one of the numerous apps on her phone. Sighing, she slides it back into her jacket pocket and continues to await her grandma's arrival.

A whopping five minutes—and two phone checks—later, Ellie's grandma greets her with a smile.

"All done," she says, an extra chipper tone to her voice.

A ghost of a smile tugs at Ellie's lips as she takes in her positive aura. "You're quite happy for someone who's leaving chemotherapy."

"That's because I am quite happy, dear."

"Oh?" She asks with a laugh, reaching for her grandma's jacket in hopes of lessening her load. She drapes the fabric loosely over her arm and presses the button to summon the elevator. "And why is that?"

"I'm cured," she says firmly, the smile never leaving her lips. "I'm all better."

Ellie freezes, turning to face her with a blank expression. She almost misses the sound of the elevator but is quickly brought back to reality as her grandma steps forward. She follows after her, thankful that they seem to be the only people occupying this particular elevator.

Ellie hits the button to take them down to the lobby before turning to her grandmother once more. "I can't believe you're better. This is such great news! Did the doctors tell you today?"

"No."

She frowns. "Well then why did you wait so long to tell us?"

"The doctors haven't told me anything." Her grandma sees the clear confusion on her granddaughter's face as she laughs before adding, "But I can feel it. I can feel myself getting better."

"What do you mean, 'you can feel it'?"

"I know my body better than any doctor in this world. And my body is telling me that I'm better. The chemo is working on me."

A sad sigh leaves Ellie's throat. "Grandma, science—"

"I don't need you to talk to me about science," she says, cutting her off from her what-was-sure-to-be-long rant about reality. The elevator chimes, alerting them to their arrival at the lobby. "I just know that I'm getting better, Ellie."

She decides to leave the argument there. She can't tell her grandma that she's wrong, she really may be getting better. And if thinking that she's cured will help her in any way, then Ellie is all for it. She exits the elevator and glances at their usual seats, her heart taking a quick stab when she notices they're empty.

"Where's Cooper?" Her grandma asks.

Ellie looks away from his seat and continues making her way towards the parking garage. "I don't know."

She stares at her phone and has an internal debate with herself for, what seems like, the fifth time in five minutes. Just check it. Don't check it. Just text him. You already texted him. Okay, call him. Don't you dare call him.

"I agree with the first me," she mumbles, reaching for her phone and pulling up Cooper's contact. She stares down at the jumble of numbers on the screen that make up his phone number. Deciding she can't put it off any longer, she hits call.

It rings.

Another ring.

Another ring.

And then finally he answers.

"Cooper?"

He clears his throat. "Hey."

"Hey."

Neither of them say anything for a solid thirty seconds before he finally asks, "Why are you calling me, Ellie?"

"Oh." A fierce heat trickles across her cheeks. "Where were you today?"

"I left my appointment early."

A pang of hurt hits her at the thought of him leaving without thinking to wait and see her. She knows it's dumb, to expect him to sit around in a hospital after his appointment, but a miniscule part of her wishes he would've.

"Oh."

"Is that all?"

"You didn't answer my texts."

There's a brief pause before he mumbles, "Sorry."

"It's fine I guess." Part of her wants to push further, to ask him why he seems upset. To see if everything is all right. "Can I maybe come over?"

"Now?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. I don't really feel like hanging out."

She swallows down the embarrassment of being rejected. "Oh. Okay. I just thought maybe we could fill our jar up for our Saturday thing. But it's all right. I understand."

Another awkward, tension-filled silence falls over the line and she considers hanging up the phone. But before she has a chance to hit the end button, he audibly sighs and says, "Okay. You can come over."

Her fist hovers over the front door, contemplating whether or not to actually knock on it. Cooper didn't exactly sound thrilled at the idea of her coming over, maybe it would be better to just leave him alone, she thinks.

Before she has a chance to make up her mind, the door swings open, taking her by surprise. Cooper stands on the other side, arms crossed over his sweatshirt-clad chest and eyebrows raised as he stares back at her.

"Hi," Ellie says, dropping her arm from its previously raised position.

"Hi." He steps aside. "You weren't knocking so I opened the door. Come in."

"Thanks," she mumbles, biting down on her bottom lip to stop herself from saying anything stupid. "So, um, is anyone home?"

"No."

She nods slowly, glancing around her luxurious surroundings. "Cool."

He doesn't say anything, his eyes staying trained on hers as she focuses her gaze on anything but him. She's not used to seeing him like this, void of a smile on his face. His tone is so cold; unlike the usual warmth she can expect from him. She's sure that something is wrong, but she's not so sure how to ask exactly what that something is.

"Let's go to my room," he mumbles, dropping his gaze from her and turning on his heel to head up the stairs. He doesn't turn around to see if Ellie's following him.

With a frown on her lips and a chill down her spine, she follows after him until they're both sat in his room, his bedroom door closed behind them. He sits on his bed, his face completely blank and unreadable. Ellie takes a seat in the chair at his desk and stares at him, almost as if she's challenging him to keep up with this cold demeanor. He stares back at her, an unnerving stare that has her wanting to leave his house and never come back.

"So?" He says dryly.

Her frown deepens. "So, what?"

"You wanted to fill up our jar. Let's do it then."

"Oh." She reaches for her bag, pulling the mason jar out of it and setting it down on the desk beside her. She then reaches for the notebook full of blank paper and the handful of pens she packed, tossing one at Cooper before choosing one for herself.

"So what sort of things are we writing on these slips?"

An irritated sigh leaves his lips and she almost flinches away at the sound. "I don't know, Ellie. Whatever you want."

"Why are you acting like an asshole?" She asks, regretting the words as soon as they've left her mouth.

Cooper looks up at her, shaking his head and furrowing his eyebrows. "I'm not."

A humorless laugh sounds from Ellie's throat. "Yes. You are."

He sighs, dropping his head into his hands and breathing heavily. When he looks back up to reveal his tear-brimmed eyes, she regrets every mean thing she's ever said to him.

"Cooper, I didn't mean—"

"I'm sorry," he says, choking on his words a little bit as he pushes his hair away from his face. "I'm not trying to be an asshole. I'm just not having a good day."

She gulps, setting the pen in her hand down before pushing herself up from her seat, hesitatingly making her way over to his bed. She takes a seat beside him but still, he doesn't look at her.

"What's wrong?" She asks quietly.

A small, broken laugh leaves his lips. "It's stupid."

"If it's making you upset, it's not stupid."

He finally looks over at her, his eyes bluer than they've ever been, sheened with tears. His lips quirk up slightly, almost into an embarrassed smile before he mumbles, "I just feel ugly."

Ellie doesn't say anything, not expecting that to be what was bothering him. Anyone who looks at Cooper can see that he's attractive, that's never been something that's been questioned. As if sensing her confusion, he continues.

"My hair started falling out," he says quietly, tears welling up in his eyes once more. "I know that it's a common side-effect for chemotherapy, but I don't know. It still took me by surprise."

"It doesn't look bad," Ellie says in a feeble attempt to make him feel better.

He glances over at her, his familiar grin sitting handsomely on his lips. "Not yet, El. Just you wait."

"At least you look good in a beanie."

"Do I?" He laughs, shooting a wink in her direction.

She rolls her eyes. "I mean, yeah. Sort of. Don't make me take back my compliment."

"You can't take it back. It's already out there. I now know that you think I look hot in a beanie—"

"I didn't say hot. I said good."

"Same difference." His smile fades. "I'm getting so skinny. I look like a skeleton."

"I think you look fine."

Without any sort of warning, he lifts his shirt up to reveal his pale stomach. At first, Ellie thinks to look away, but then she realizes he's trying to show her what's beneath the surface and so she looks. The outline of his ribs is barely visible, but she can see how one might find it to be skeleton-like.

"I don't really have any sort of prior memory of your stomach to compare this to," she jokes.

He drops his shirt and lays back on his bed. "Well I do. And I can tell you that it looked a lot better than this. I look sick."

"Cooper," she says gently, "you are sick."

"Yeah. But I don't want to look sick. I feel disgusting. My hair is falling out, I'm turning into a skeleton, and on top of that, I feel my life slowly being drained out of my body. I hate it."

Ellie joins him, laying back on the bed and thinking of something to say that may be of some comfort. "Maybe we should shave your head?"

He continues staring at the ceiling. "Nah. If I'm losing my hair it will not be by my own will."

They lay in silence after that. She doesn't have much to say. She doesn't know what it's like to watch your body slowly deteriorate and not have the power to do anything about it. She can't relate, and because of that, she's not much help.

He pushes himself up from the bed and walks over to the desk, grabbing the jar in his hand and looking back at her. She props herself up on her elbows and watches him curiously as he rips a piece of paper and begins writing on it.

"What are you doing?"

He finishes writing on the paper before tossing it into the jar and making his way back over to her. "We fill this jar with things we've always wanted to do but have never done. Whatever we pull from the jar, we have to do."

"Okay..." she says, confusion evident in her tone. They've already been over the purpose of the jar before.

"So pick a slip from the jar."

She furrows her eyebrows, but still she reaches into it and grabs the slip he's just finished writing. She opens the crumpled up paper, squinting to read the scribbles that make up words. Widening her eyes, she looks back up at Cooper.

"Really?"

"Really."

A smile tugs at her lips as she pushes herself up from the bed. "All right. Let's do this."