Between Logan and Jamie {complete}

Logan: 27.

Another amazing chapter by the amazing Immy. We only have about four more chapters to go! It's nearly over which I'm sad and excited about and hope everyone loves this chapter! IT was very well written and very moving!

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It was my own surprise birthday party, and I was sat outside on the patio swing-chair, a drink in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other.

“Hey.”

I looked up to see Jamie’s younger brother Fletcher by the back door.

“Hey, Fletch,” I said, smiling. “You alright?”

“It’s too hot in there,” he shrugged, nodding towards the loud music erupting from Jamie’s corridor. “I needed to cool down.”

I indicated the empty seat beside me. “You can sit down if you want.”

Fletcher shrugged again and headed over, collapsing in the seat beside me. “What’re you doing?”

“Writing a message,” I said hesitantly. “For your sister. To read.”

“Oh,” Fletcher said.

I paused. “Are you alright?”

Fletcher nodded. “I’m fine. Brookleyn is not, though.”

“I heard you were fighting,” I nodded slightly. “Are you alright with her now?”

Fletcher sighed. “We’re fine; it’s just everyone’s easily agitated these days.”

“Jamie?” I asked, and he nodded again. “I can imagine.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I heard you didn’t take it particularly well.”

I snorted. “No, not really.”

“Are you alright now?” he asked, eyeing my body. “You still look skinny.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment…”

I grinned; it was true, I kept trying to eat but not eating much due to stress. “It’ll be fine. When I’ve stopped stressing, I’ll go back to eating how I used to.”

Fletcher nodded, and curled up on the swing, tucking his legs into his chest. “When will you stop stressing? Tomorrow? When Jamie’s dead? A year?”

“You don’t know how long she has left,” I said firmly, though I knew I wasn’t convincing. “I’ll stop stressing when this bloody wedding is over.”

Fletcher attempted a smile, but then I saw his body shudder slightly. “She’s going to die soon, isn’t she?”

I tried not to look at him. “I don’t know.”

“She is,” Fletcher said firmly, but I could hear a crack in his voice. “I know she’s going to die.”

I paused, and then sighed. “Yes, Fletch, she’s going to die. All of us are going to die.”

“I don’t want to out-live her.”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean?”

“I want her to be my sister forever,” Fletcher said, turning his head so I couldn’t see his face. “I want her to be my wife’s sister-in-law, and I want her to be my children’s aunty. And I want her to be here forever. I want to die before her so I don’t have to lose her.”

Fletcher was fourteen, nearly fifteen. I knew I couldn’t patronise him, or make him feel any better about this by lying or pretending. But I couldn’t tell him the facts because he already knew them. Instead, I just put my hand on his shoulder.