That's all there is, folks. As someone who's both lost people to cancer, and who knows many survivors, I hope I was able to treat this topic with the dignity and sensitivity it deserves. This didn't quite turn out how I'd imagined when I sat down to fill these prompts, but I'm satisfied regardless. Thanks to everyone for their comments and feedback, it means a lot.

And now, onto the next project...

Its ass-fuck o'clock in the morning when Aster's buzzer goes. He ignores it at first, figuring it must be some drunkard with the wrong flat, because who else would be trying to rouse him at 3:07 am on a Saturday morning? It isn't until the buzzer's been going for five minutes straight that Aster finally stumbles from the warm cocoon of his blankets to answer. By the time he gets to the door, the buzzer is being jabbed in the tune of 'Mary had a Little Lamb' and Aster swears to any God that will listen, as he angrily wrenches the door open, that the smug little shitstain on the other side is going to pay for...

Red plaid scarf.

Black button down over some obscure grey band t-shirt

Well-worn Batman converse sneakers.

Black plastic-rimmed glasses hiding soulful chocolate eyes.

Fluffy brown hair that's grown in longer and therefore more chaotic than normal over the last eight months.

Aster blinks at the boy once or twice, still mostly asleep and not yet at full processing power. He slowly closes and locks the door, keeping eye contact with an unusually silent hipster until the last second. He then proceeds to breathe deeply for five seconds, before unlocking the door and opening it again.

Sure enough, Jack Frost is on his doorstep.

"Hey Aster, what's up?" Aster has to swallow twice in a suddenly dry throat before he can respond.

"I am, now. It's three am and you're two states away from where you're supposed to be, Jack. What's going on?" The boy's eyes slide sideways a little, deferring.

"Coffee at the overnight diner down the road? My treat." Jack's obviously avoiding answering the question, but Aster decides to let him, figuring his Welcome Mat isn't the best place to have this conversation. He lets Jack in long enough to haul his softest, oldest hoodie on over his bare chest, figuring his cotton Ghostbusters pajama pants were decent enough for a trek to the diner. Sliding his feet into an ancient par of flip flops, he and Jack depart the flat, making their way to the local 24-hour diner.

The food offered was greasy but good, the coffee never burnt and the prices reasonable, so the diner usually did brisk business during the school year, jammed full of insomniac art students at all hours of the day and night. Now though, three days before spring term was set to start, it was a veritable ghost town. Aster and Jack took the booth at the back, both ordering the coffee, and Jack what was affectionately known the 'Heart Attack Special.' They ate and drank in total silence, both heavy with thought, Aster doing his best not to turn his nose up at the sheer amount of bacon slowly disappearing from Jack's plate down his gullet. For a skinny little brat, he ate a ridiculous amount of absolutely anything put in front of him. Eventually though, the food was done, and they were left staring at each other, nursing their third coffee refills. It's Aster who takes the leap of faith and breaks the awkward silence.

"So, I landed this illustrator gig..." Jack's voice cuts Aster off halfway through the sentence.

"I know, a week after graduation. It didn't require relocation, so you stayed cause you liked the city and liked the weather and liked your little apartment, even though you complain about it all the time." Jack's voice is even, reciting the facts like a man whose spent time memorizing them. "Nick and Tooth went to New York; they're both still getting settled in but love it there, together. Sandy and Pitch would up in Vancouver; they're currently working on a very-low budget horror movie filming up there in Canada. Both are convinced it's going to redefine the genre as we know it." The twist of Jack's lips is vague, but definitely fond, and Aster can feel his heart start to thump a bit faster. "I read all your letters, every one, over and over and over again. Eventually, I mean. At first I just kept tossing them into a pile, too busy with Emma to care, but it turns out there is a lot of time spent sitting around waiting while she was getting treatments, or sleeping a treatment off, or what have you, so I started reading them, and then I couldn't stop." Jack pauses here, his expression falling, shuttering, and Aster braces himself for the words he knows are coming.

"The funeral was last month." Turns out, there isn't enough bracing in the world for news like that and Aster feels the words like a physical punch to the gut, throat tightening and chest aching in sympathy.

"Hell, Jack, I'm so sorry." Jack shrugs, his skinny shoulders rising and falling recklessly.

"She was suffering, towards the end. It was... almost a relief, by that point. She wasn't going to miraculously get better, so she didn't have to try and hold on anymore. She was a trooper though, lasted longer than they thought, and in better health then they Doctor's had figured, too. When things went south they went suddenly, so the last few weeks were a nightmare, but the few months leading up to that were... well, less so, I guess. I mean, it was the sword of Damocles over our heads there the whole time, but when she wasn't sick from the pills or getting jabbed with needles you could almost forget." Jack's smile is wistful, and Aster can't see any bitterness, so he hopes that Jack has made his peace. "We got our chances to say goodbye, which is more than some get, I guess. We were lucky that way I suppose." Jack sounds a little sceptical about the being lucky part, but Aster figures he's earned that.

"I woulda come, had I known." Aster regrets the words instantly, afraid that Jack will hear in them an accusation that doesn't exist, but the boy doesn't appear to in the slightest.

"I didn't know how to ask." Jack doesn't elaborate, so Aster lets it drop for the moment, shifting a bit on the worn vinyl of the booth before asking the question that's been burning on the tip of his tongue the whole time.

"So why here? Why now?" Jack shrugs again at Aster's question, leaning back against the booth like the effort of sitting up was suddenly overwhelming.

"I'm re-enrolled this semester, unpacked into my new dorm this morning. My roommate's a freshman named Jamie; he's cool so far I guess, but he's not you, though." For the first time since arriving at the diner Jack makes eye contact, and something in his gaze freezes Aster solid. "I couldn't sleep, knowing you were so close, I just had to... to see you, or something. I don't know. I figured even if you told me to fuck off and come back at a normal time, it would be enough."

"Jack..." Aster starts, forcing the words out past the lump in his throat, but Jack carries on as if he hasn't spoken, so Aster shuts up and listens

"You don't know, Aster, what those letters meant to me. I know I never wrote back I just... couldn't. Couldn't find it in me to write about my sister's last days, I didn't know how to immortalize those raw, ugly feelings on paper. But, reading about you, about the new things in your life, the silly day-to-day things we used to talk about, it kept me grounded. It reminded me, that you were here, that there was something outside the grief and anger and pain. I couldn't..." Jack trails off momentarily, eyes looking suspiciously red and watery. "I didn't know what to say to you, but it was enough, to read your words and hear your voice in my head. You kept me sane, Aster. Thank you doesn't really cover that."

By this point, Aster's eyes are just a teary, and he can't stop himself from reaching across the table to grab Jack's hand tightly. Jack squeezes back just as hard, and that seems to be his breaking point, because he's crying openly now, silent tears slipping down his pale cheeks to drip onto the battered Formica tabletop.

"I told you before that I couldn't do this, with you. And I couldn't then. But I think I can now, Aster. I think I don't have a choice not to, cause I don't know anymore how to be, without you there at my back." Aster's smiling a bit, holding back his own tears because Jack needs him to be strong.

"You got me, Jackie, for as long as you'll have me. Besides..." Aster trails off for a moment, hesitant, but figures what the hell, and plows ahead. "Besides, waking up in bed with you wouldn't be the hardest thing in my morning, if yah know what I mean?" Aster follows it up with an over-exaggerated leer, complete with eyebrow-waggle. For a second, he thinks it's going to fall flat but then Jack laughs; a thin, reedy sound compared to his full belly-chuckle, but it's a laugh.

"Oh my god, Aster, did you just use a line on me?" Jack looks startled, and totally incredulous.

"Yeah mate, I musta. Figured you didn't have the monopoly." Jack allows the tiniest of smiles to curl the corners of his lips.

"I haven't laughed since the funeral, I was afraid I'd forgotten how." Aster can't help himself, taking Jack's hand now in his own and drawing it to his mouth to press a kiss to the knuckles.

"There now, Jackie. We can work on that." Aster murmurs into the skin at his lips. Across the table Jack flushes an attractive pink, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he brings his other hand to join the party, stroking gentle fingers along the backs of Aster's hands.

They sit like that for a long time, while the coffee goes cold and the waitress leaves the bill at the end of the table.

When they leave the diner at dawn, they are still hand in hand; shoulder's bumping as they venture forth into the brilliance of the brand new day.