Adelaide

It takes Justin many convincing arguments, but I eventually agree that it's best for me to go out and explore Downtown Vancouver instead of wait for him to get an MRI and some other tests done.

So, instead of breathing in antiseptic air, I spend the day out shopping with my mom and breathing in the city air that has a hint of ocean to it. We go all over the place - Roots, Victoria's Secret, Indigo, and a whole bunch of other stores. And, because my brothers are going to be a year older in March, I go to Sportchek and buy them each a new pair of runners for training. They're expensive, but I know they're good quality and will last a long time. I also know that my brothers will use them until the soles of the shoes are as thin as paper.

"Do you think Jake and Alex will like them?" I ask Mom as we walk the busy streets back to our hotel. It's almost five o'clock now. It saddens me that Justin didn't get to walk around the city like this before surgery, but there are tests that need to be done to make sure everything's prepared properly for tomorrow; he was only supposed to have a final MRI and some bloodwork done today, but more tests were added last-minute.

Though I miss Justin, I'm glad I got to spend some more time with Mom. We're always so busy with school, work, and sports that we don't ever really get to hang out like this.

Mom nods. "I think they'll love them, Addie. I can't recall a single year when they haven't liked what you've bought them."

I smile. She's right - every year, I've been stellar at picking out gifts for my brothers for their birthdays and Christmas. It's one thing I don't mind bragging about.

As we cross the busy streets of Vancouver, I glance up at the sky. Today's been surprisingly beautiful and mild for February; it's sunny, gulls are chirping, and the breeze that had an icy chill to it yesterday is nowhere to be felt. And the nice weather only adds to the wow-factor that Vancouver holds. Kelowna looks nothing like a city when compared to Vancouver; the buildings are taller, the roads are busier, and the stores that line the downtown area go from high and luxurious to the most basic.

"How are you feeling about tomorrow?" Mom asks me as we take a corner, passing some busy pub and then multiple stores.

How am I feeling about tomorrow? Nervous, scared, anxious, but also a little excited. I sound crazy saying that, but there's the possibility that this surgery could be just what Justin needs to get his life back. "Hopeful," I eventually say. "I really think this is going to work for him. First of all, he deserves a life he has control of. Secondly, the doctors messed up the first time, so I think they're going to do whatever they can to make things right."

Mom nods, contemplating my words. "Well, I hope so, too," she says. "For both Helene and Justin."

I gnaw on my bottom lip. I never really thought about that; how Justin having epilepsy would affect Helene. I glance at Mom. I know for a fact that if I were in Justin's shoes, Mom would be trying to help me as much as possible. But that's the thing - there's nothing anyone can do when you have epilepsy. Especially if it's uncontrollable like Justin's or you don't know the cause.

"So what are you two going to do tonight?" Mom asks, changing the subject. "Come out for dinner with the three of us?"

I shrug. "Depends on how Justin's feeling - he might be tired from all the testing. Or maybe just tired from the stress. I'm leaning toward ordering takeout or room service and maybe just watching a movie."

A sly smile comes across Mom's lips. "Just watch a movie?"

I give my mom a small shove. "We are not going to sleep together!"

Mom laughs. "Honey, I'm just bugging you. But seriously - if, for some reason, you two do go that far, be safe, okay? Promise me."

I suppress an eye roll. "Mom, we have learned about all this stuff with 'Family Life' or whatever they call it. I know what happens if we're not safe. Besides, Justin and I have already had this conversation - we're waiting."

She reaches out and ruffles my hair. "You are related to me and your father, but if there's one thing that's different between us, it's that you don't give in - you wait. We're so proud of you."

I nod my head. Frankly, I don't want to hear about my mom and dad's teenage sex life. That is a story they can keep between the two of them.

But, all in all, the fact that my parents are proud of me makes me feel happy and warm on the inside. Though I wanted Justin more than ever that night, I'm glad I didn't push him and we waited.

He's worth the wait.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Justin and I are enjoying takeout in the hotel room while watching a Canucks game. I'm more interested in the Chinese food we're eating than the actual hockey game. Anything without the Toronto Maple Leafs is pointless to me, but I've adapted. The Vancouver Canucks are Justin's favourite team and if this is what he wants to do on the eve of his big surgery, then so be it.

When the food is gone and we've cleaned up all the empty containers, the hotel room is quiet, minus the sound of pucks being shot and skates scraping against the ice that's coming through the TV. And the silence is killing me. Absolutely killing me. I want to talk about tomorrow. He hasn't even told me what I should expect when I see him in the ICU. I glance at Justin.

He's not even looking at the TV. He's staring out the window at the city.

"Justin?" I ask. "Are you okay?"

He looks at me, and then, before I know it, he's gripping my hand and tugging me toward the bathroom. For a moment, I wonder if he's gone mad. Why the heck is he dragging me to the bathroom? But I quickly obliterate that thought. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day for everyone, but him especially. He's literally putting his life into someone else's hands, and I have to cut him some slack - and also admire him - for that. I'd lose my mind if I had to go through something like this just like my dad would.

Justin flicks on the lights, revealing a modernized bathroom with tile flooring, a large shower, and the usual bathroom components. He leans me against the marbled counter, and as he pulls away, his eyes briefly connect with mine. Then, he begins to rummage through one of the drawers beneath the sink.

I distract myself from curiosity by thinking about how weird it is for someone to actually unpack their belongings and fill the drawers like they own the place. But I guess that's what happens when you're staying in Vancouver for a full week or maybe more. I don't know how I can leave his side for a full week after such an invasive surgery, but I have no choice. There are work and school and family.

As Justin rummages through, I take in his body frame.

I then shake my head.

I don't care what he looks like - this boy standing in front of me is the very definition of strength and determination. Compared to who he is on the inside, his looks are just a bonus. Now I can fully understand why Dad stayed beside Mom while she had amnesia all those years ago.

The strength, the love, the resilience - it's not worth giving up on.

Justin is someone I want in my life for a very, very long time.

Finally, Justin finds what he's looking for and turns to face me.

Looking down, I see an electric hair clipper residing in his hand. My eyes widen as I look back up at his handsome face. I want to say something, but words are currently unavailable.

"I want you to do it," he chokes, holding out his hand.

I look at the device like it's infected with some contagious disease. "Justin..." I finally say. "I don't know if I can do this for you."

Setting it down on the counter, Justin takes my face in his warm hands. I try hard to blink back the tears, but one manages to slip down my cheek.

"You can, Addie," he whispers, wiping away the tear.

I feel pathetic. He should be the one crying, for God's sake! He's about to have his head cut open and go through a surgery that is extremely invasive and somewhat life-threatening, and here I am, crying over shaving his hair. What the heck is wrong with me?

Sniffling, I slowly nod my head and reach for the hair clipper. It's cold against my skin, so cold it almost stings. Memories of me running my fingers through his hair cloud my mind - the first time he kissed me, while I waited for the ambulance to arrive at my house, and when we almost took the next step. So many small moments have led up to this big moment, and I wouldn't trade them for all the money in the world.

Knowing that if I meet his eyes I'm going to start bawling, I turn away and plug in the hair clipper while I try to become accustomed to the feel of it.

I turn to him. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

Justin shrugs. "They told me they're going to shave it all off anyway. I'd rather someone I trust put their fingers near the scar while I'm conscious." He looks up from the tile. "Please, Addie."

Swallowing thickly, I flick the hair clipper on. A continuous buzz fills the bathroom, and I take a step toward him. He turns around and kneels down to give me better access, elbows resting on the countertop.

I stare at his ashen-blond hair, my stomach twisting in knots. And, for some reason, I use my free hand to run my fingers through his hair one last time, memorizing how soft, thick, and blond it is.

"It'll all grow back, Addie," Justin says softly.

I glance at the ceiling, mad that I'm crying again. "I know," I reply. "It's just hard."

Reaching up, Justin gives my hand a squeeze, letting me know it's time to continue on with that he asked me to do.

So I begin.

I bring the blade of the hair clipper down close to his scalp and slowly drag it along, watching through tear-filled eyes as locks of his beautiful ashen-blond air fall, blanketing the floor around us.

I lose track of time as I go through with my job, but when I'm finished and look at the watch on Justin's wrist, it's only been eight minutes. I turn off the hair clipper and take a step back to look at my work. It's not too bad for my first time - even if it is fairly uneven in some spots.

"So," Justin says. "What's the damage?"

I look at his reflection in the mirror to see that he's looking down, avoiding his own reflection to the best of his abilities.

"I'm definitely not a professional," I joke. Well...I try to joke. My voice comes out meeker than I intend. The thing is...how can I joke when this just became so much more real?

"Bet you still did a better job than the hospital could ever do."

I blink. "They shaved your head last time, too?"

Justin nods, getting to his feet and turning around to completely avoid the mirror. It's the first full-on view I have of him without any hair and I'd be lying if I didn't say it was a little shocking. He features are much more defined without his hair, but not in a scary way. He's actually quite stunning, though I do miss the hair - I'm not going to lie.

There's also another thing I can see more of.

His scar from the first surgery.

It's a perfect line that curves back to where his ear meets his head, and it's a milky-white colour.

"I know," Justin says. "I hate it, too."

I shake my head, fresh tears pricking my eyes. "No, Justin. It's not terrible. I mean, it is terrible but you went through, but the scar is amazing. It's symbolic for everything you've overcome. People who look at it in a bad way are stupid."

"So I'm stupid?" he asks, a small smirk on his lips.

"Didn't you say so yourself that we're all a little stupid sometimes?" I tease.

The smirk turns into a smile. "Yeah, I guess I did."

I begin to tap my lip. "You know what?"

"What?"

"That scar is like a tattoo, but it has a better story."

He gives me a weak smile that doesn't reach his eyes, and I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he stands in front of me, trying to gain his composure.

I try to give him a smile in return, but I can't. My lips begin to wobble and the tears start pouring down my cheeks, which doesn't help Justin because the next time I look up, he's crying, too.

That's when I realize I need to buck-up a little; he needs me and I can't do that if I'm having a breakdown, too, right?

Without another word, I pull him into a hug. "I have no idea what to say, Justin," I whisper. "But I just want you to know that I am here for you - whatever you need."

He hugs me fiercely, his body shaking. "I don't want to do this again," he chokes. "I don't know if I can, Addie."

I hug him tighter. It's the only thing I can do. I can't lie to him and say it's going to be easy because it's not and I don't sugar-coat things. I've also said he can do it multiple times and I feel that if I repeat myself too much, the words will lose their meaning.

A sob rips its way through Justin, causing his body to shake even harder. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing there was something I could do to make this pain go away; to make him stop feeling for a moment. But the truth is, our emotions are what makes us human - we feel them no matter what. We fall in love with the wrong people. We feel hurt when someone betrays our trust. We laugh and smile and cry. We all have fears and are shadowed by doubt. And yes, sometimes emotions can suck, but what would we be without them?

For the next few minutes, I let Justin cry into my shoulder. Then, when his body is no longer shaking like it was, I tell him to go relax on the bed while I clean up the mess.

Wearily, he nods his head and leaves without arguing. This is how I know he's exhausted from today's tests and the upcoming events of tomorrow. In his normal state, Justin would have helped me clean up. But that's too much to expect from him right now.

It turns out hair is really hard to clean off of a tiled floor, but I eventually get the hang of it. And when everything looks almost as pristine as it did before, I exit the bathroom, flicking off the light, and come out to the two beds in the hotel room. Justin's back is facing me, but I can tell he's awake because of his breathing patterns - they're still shaky and haven't fallen into that peaceful pattern sleeping tends to give us.

I climb into bed beside him and he rolls over. His eyes are red and puffy, and there's a bit of snot leaking from his nose.

"I'm sorry," he says, shaking his head.

I reach out and trace the tip of my finger along the scar. It's strange to see nothing but his scar and skin, but it doesn't faze me too much. Though I will admit I really do miss his hair. "Don't be sorry," I whisper. "You've been strong for too long. Sometimes crying is the only thing we can do to repair the damage that's been done." I give him a weak smile as I guide my fingertip down to his cheekbone and wipe away a stray tear. "You're going to be okay."

Without saying a word, Justin moves closer and buries his face in the nook of my neck. He presses a small kiss to the bare skin and then whispers, "Stay with me."

Another tear slips down my cheek.

"Always," I whisper. "You don't ever have to ask me, Justin. I will always be here for you."

Sooner than later, his breathing evens out and I'm left wondering what tomorrow is going to be like. I've never had someone so close to me go through something like this before, so it's hard to even guess, but I know for sure that I am going to need my mom beside me while we wait for hours that are going to feel like days.

Looking down at Justin, I press a small kiss to his scar. Right above where his hairline would usually be.

"You can do this," I whisper as he sleeps, letting the tears fall harder than ever. "You can do this, Justin, because you are a fighter. And fighters don't give up."