IT'S A GLOOMY DAY to be at work. Quinn and Olivia are both officially done for the summer, and have already moved back at their respective colleges (but have been talking every day, Olivia informed me last night when we were texting for a bit). Even sadder yet—it's Jasper's last day working.

Another "last" I have with him to check off my list. Pretty soon, there'll only be one "last" left: the last time I'll see him before he moves away. But I don't want to think about that right now. It's too hard to stomach.

"Here are your drinks," I say to my three-top, dispersing them accordingly. "Are you guys ready to order, or do you still need a few minutes?"

"If you could give us a few minutes, that would be great," the mom says, smiling at me with kind eyes.

"Of course," I say, turning around and veering back toward the kitchen, grateful for a nice table. When I make it to the back, I notice for the first time that Jasper is looking pale and clammy. Uh oh.

"Have you eaten lunch yet?" I ask him as he fills up a glass with water that sloshes up and down the sides due to his shaky grip.

"It's fine, I will soon," he says with a flippant tone. "Just gotta get through this lunch rush and then I'll order a sandwich or something from the kitchen."

I can tell his blood sugar level is plummeting dangerously low. "Absolutely not. Jasper, you need to get something in your stomach right now or you're gonna faint. You don't look good."

"Gee, thanks," he says in a derisive tone. "I appreciate your concern, Lex. But I'm okay. Besides, my one table is way too demanding to care that their appetizer is getting cold because their diabetic server needed food."

"Jasper—" I start to argue, but he's already picking up his drink tray and walking breezily towards his table. Idiot.

Moments like this remind me of the importance of Champ, and why Jasper's mom insists that he takes her with him nearly everywhere he goes. He likes to think he can beat his diabetes and control his body's reactions to various glucose levels. But he can't.

I tune momentarily back into my own life, particularly my rising levels of anxiety. For some reason, this morning I woke up in a cold panic that Jasper decided to stop being friends with me due to the revelation of my past that I gave him two days ago. He and Aunt Colleen have been drilling into my head that what happened wasn't my fault, but I still feel like I could've done more to stop it.

It's weird how one moment, I can almost be at peace with it, and the next, I'm a bundle of anxiety wondering why anyone would ever care enough about me to remain being my friend. But I guess that's all part of the rollercoaster that is healing.

My fingers twitch over my server's notepad, itching to sit in solitude and process everything lying dormant in my mind through the words that flow out. It's odd how easy journaling everything has been; almost like a crank someone keeps turning that releases paragraphs of suppressed emotions.

Eventually, I have to rip myself from the asylum of my thoughts to go see if my table has decided on what they want to eat yet.

It's a simple act, really. A mindless one. I ask my table what they want, they give me their order, I jot it down, I return to the back to punch it in the computer system to send to the kitchen to make.

The mindlessness of it is making me go crazy.

After I take my table's order and refill water glasses at another table, I slink back to the kitchen to ask one of the cooks to whip something up for Jasper. Ozzie, my favorite cook of the bunch, agrees to make him a grilled cheese sandwich, and I thank him.

When I exit the kitchen, I catch sight of Jasper, and notice beads of sweat pooling on his forehead.

"Jasper, you need to sit down and give yourself a break," I say, anxiety already seeping into my nerves. "Ozzie's making you a grilled cheese right now; please just rest until he finishes it."

He shakes his head, stubborn as ever. "I'm fine. I just have to go take this one table's food order and then I'll have enough of a lull to eat something. Relax."

Relax. That alone is enough to tell me he isn't okay. He's never that demanding with me.

I watch as he walks towards his table on wobbly feet, and wonder what my next move should be. I really don't want to witness him faint. But I'm also the least assertive person when it comes to telling others what to do.

I watch his lips move as he repeats people's orders back to them. He grips his little server's notebook in one hand, and messily scribbles down said orders with his other. He closes the book. Tells the table one more thing—that he'll go put their order in straight away, presumably. Begins walking back toward the kitchen.

In all our years of friendship, I've never once witnessed Jasper pass out. I've seen him get sick, lightheaded, prick his finger, and fuss with his insulin pump more times than I can count. But I have never been put in a situation where I needed to worry about what to do when he suddenly loses consciousness altogether.

So when it finally happens, for an elongated series of moments, my world stops spinning and comes to an abrupt and terrified halt.

It happens so quickly, I almost don't process it. One second, he's up and walking towards me. The next, he's lying in a heap on the ground.

"JASPER!" I find myself screaming, immediately rushing to his side.

Horrified voices fill the air around me, but I am completely laser focused on Jasper, locked on him with tunnel vision. I try to give him a little shake to awaken him, but he barely stirs. Someone standing above me already has a phone pulled out and is talking to 9-1-1.

"He has diabetes," I say out loud, figuring this is important information to share. "His blood sugar is too low. I was trying to get him to eat something." I let out a strangled cry. Why couldn't he have listened?

Please, don't let him die.

Someone's hand lands on my back. It's Reagan, the manager. "Shh, it's not your fault, Lex," she tells me. Then, to everyone else, she says, "Everyone, please stop crowding around and go back to what you were doing. Medics are on their way right now to help him."

My eyes fill with tears as I study Jasper's face, pale and lifeless. He can't die from this, right?

Despite the fact that I'm not nearly as certain of God as Jasper, I begin to pray. Please, God, don't take him away now. Australia, I'm finally coming to terms with. But a permanent absence would break me. Please let him be okay.

What feels like years but is only minutes later, the sound of ambulance sirens fills the air, and not too long after that, a team of medics are rushing through the front door. They check to make sure he's still breathing, and I'm relieved when they determine that he is. They then take his blood pressure and check his blood sugar, which is confirmed to be dangerously low, and administer the use of a glucose solution IV to get his blood sugar levels back up.

Everyone in the restaurant is watching, and I feel myself slowly losing sanity as I watch all these medics poking and prodding Jasper's unconscious body with needles and odd medical gauges. One of the medics asks if anyone knows who his emergency contact would be, and I shakily say that I know his parents and can call them.

They tell me to do that, and let Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds know that they're going to be taking their son to the hospital to monitor his blood sugar while they wait for him to come to. They assure me that Jasper will be fine, it's just standard protocol, and I find myself numbly following instruction.

When Denise Reynolds picks up on the second ring, I feel my stomach drop. "Lexi?" she says, immediately sounding worried. "Aren't you at work with Jasper? Is everything all right?"

"Y-yeah," I stutter. "I think so. Jasper's blood sugar got too low and he passed out, so they're taking him to the hospital. The medics are saying he's gonna be okay, though." And I hope they're right, I mentally add.

"Oh dear God, please let him be okay," I hear Denise murmur under her breath. Then, in a normal voice, she says, "Thank you for letting me know, Lexi. We're leaving for the hospital right now."

"No problem," I say numbly. Denise hangs up, and I don't even have to imagine the panic she's feeling. I feel it too.

They wheel Jasper, who is still unconscious, out the door on a stretcher, and I am suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. I make a beeline for the bathroom, and barely make it into a stall before everything comes up. Retching everything out of my system does little to make me feel better.

I hear the bathroom door open and close and pray that it's no one from any of my tables, who are sure to be repulsed if they see their server kneeling in front of a toilet stained with vomit.

Whoever comes in nudges the stall door open and steps inside to join me. I weakly look up, and see that it's Reagan.

"Hey buddy," she says, looking at me with a sad expression. "That was pretty scary, huh?"

I stare down at my hands. "A little. Is he gonna be okay?"

She crouches down beside me, letting her dry pressed designer dress pants fall against the grimy bathroom floor, and scratches my back soothingly with perfect manicured nails. "I'm not a medical expert, but those medics seemed pretty confident. I'm sure they see cases like that all the time. I believe he's in good hands."

I nod. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"But," Reagan continues, "I can tell that you're gonna be a ball of anxiety until you know for sure that he's okay. Which is why I want you to take the rest of the day off and go stay with his parents at the hospital. And text me whenever he comes to, so I know he's okay."

I stare up at my manager in awe. "Are you sure?" I ask. "What if it gets busy? You'd be down two servers."

She shrugs. "Then I'll slip on the ole waitressing apron and help out. I care more about Jasper's physical health and your mental health than a couple of annoyed customers."

I continue staring at her, completely awestruck. What did I do to deserve such a kind and compassionate manager?

"Go," she says when I fail to find words to show the gratitude that I feel. "He's gonna want familiar faces around when he wakes up."

"Thank you," I say, wishing she could understand the Mariana Trench-level depth at which I mean it.

After wiping my mouth, I get up, flush the toilet, and exit the bathroom to go be there for my best friend the way he's been there for me all these years.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Entering through the hospital doors elicits a whole new wave of anxiety.

The last time I stepped foot in a hospital, I was four days away from turning ten years old and on a mission to tell my mom that my father was letting his creepy drug dealing friends molest me at their own beck and call. But instead, I watched her die right before my eyes.

All because her pancreas decided to stop doing its job and start growing cancerous cells.

Now, I'm here, praying to a God whose existence I'm iffy about at best. Praying that my best friend who I was finally able to come clean to about the ugly past I never got to tell my mom doesn't die.

All because his pancreas decided to stop doing its job and neglect to produce insulin to maintain a normal blood glucose level on its own.

I feel dizzy, so I take a seat at a bench and pull out my phone. My fingers shakily text Denise, asking where Jasper is and if he's come to yet.

The few minutes it takes for her to respond feel like an eternity.

Denise Reynolds: Hi sweet Lex. Jasper is okay, they've gotten his blood sugar level back up to normal. He's currently awake, but very out of it. Give him a good twenty minutes to relax and process things, and then you can head on up. Thank you again for all your help.

Sent 3:23 PM

I heave a sigh of relief. He's okay.

The idea of Jasper's diabetes being life threatening has never before really sunk in for me. I've always known that he has to be extra careful about what he puts into his body and checking his blood sugar, but I never truly thought about how serious his condition actually is. No wonder his mom makes him take Champ almost everywhere he goes. She's better at knowing when his body's chemical composition changes than he is.

I take a few deep breaths to ease my pounding heartrate.

Jasper's not your mom, I tell myself. His story turns out differently.

I suddenly feel like laughing, crying, and screaming, all at once. I just want to exist, and exist loudly. Because I can. Because two days ago, I chose life and second chances. Because just tonight, Jasper's body chose life. Because life is loud and messy and emotional and chaotic and beautiful.

Sitting quietly at this bench feels like the complete antithesis of that. I quickly hop up, and start pacing, just to give my restless limbs a purpose.

I check the clock from the time Denise texted me. Eighteen more minutes. So much space to fill. I want to fill it wisely.

Without thinking much of it, I pull out my phone and call Meredith. She picks up on the fourth ring.

"Lex! What's up girl?" she greets.

"I'm at the hospital," I say automatically. "For Jasper, I mean. He's okay. Just let his blood sugar level drop too low. But he's awake now. I just needed a distraction until I can go see him."

She pauses. "I'm so sorry. That's scary, Lex. I'm glad he's okay, though."

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Me too."

"Do you want me to come drive over there and be with you?" she offers.

I smile softly. She'll make a great friend in Jasper's absence. I forgot how caring and thoughtful she is, when she's not wasting all her capacity for thoughtfulness on River Fitzgerald.

"That's okay. His mom is letting me come up in a few minutes. I just wanted to talk to someone 's all."

"Well I'm here," she says gently. "How've you been holding up, aside from today's craziness?"

"Honestly," I say, "not well. I seriously contemplated ending it a couple days ago as a result of a past I've let build up, but I'm coming to find that actually talking about things does a lot more good than harm. Let's get coffee in a few days; I'll elaborate more on that. Just know that I'm doing a lot better now, and working to seek help."

She goes so quiet on the other line, for a second I wonder if the spotty service in the hospital lost her. But then I hear her exhale a shaky breath. "Lexi, wow. I am so sorry, I always knew you were struggling mentally, but I never thought it was that bad. If only I knew . . ."

I stop her right there. "Hey. You wouldn't have known. I became an expert at covering it up. I just wanted to tell you now so we can start the school year on a fresh slate. One where I don't pretend to have it all together all the time."

She exhales a tiny laugh. "Honestly, mood. I have things I need to properly fill you in on, too. I haven't been as mentally healthy as I've let on, either. Looking back, I'm realizing that I was in a low-key semi emotionally abusive relationship with River. I'll elaborate more on our coffee date. How does the thirtieth sound?"

Like my last full day with Jasper, my mind says. But my mouth says, "Sounds perfect. How does three work?"

"It's a date," she says. Neither of us says anything for a beat, and then she adds, "Thank you again for calling me, Lex. And letting me back in, even when I probably don't deserve it. I'm so thankful to have you back in my life."

"Of course, Mer," I say. "I think this will be a good thing for the both of us."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

For some reason, I'm timid entering Jasper's hospital room.

His parents are both sitting at his bedside when I walk in, and they all have their eyes closed while Jasper's dad speaks. It takes me a moment to realize that Mr. Reynolds is praying over Jasper. I take a tentative step back so I'm hovering by the entrance, not wanting to ruin their little family moment. As much as I hate to admit it, a pang of jealousy stabs at my heart.

The things I would give for a stable family like this.

But you have Colleen and Willie, I have to remind myself. And even Uncle Bill, when he's home from deployment.

Mr. Reynolds finishes his prayer, and Jasper's gaze floats up to meet mine. For a moment, we just stare at each other with unreadable expressions, neither one of us speaking. And then his parents shuffle up from their spot to come join me at the door.

"Oh, Lexi," Denise cries, throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace. "Thank you for caring so much for our son. Jasper told us you tried to get him to eat before it happened."

"Of course," I say, voice muffled against her T-shirt.

"We'll give you two a few minutes," Mr. Reynolds says, nodding his head and giving me a wink.

I smile back, and then they're gone, and it's just me and Jasper.

"Lex, I'm so sorry," Jasper says automatically. "I didn't mean for it to get that bad."

To my annoyance, my eyes brim with tears. "You should've listened to me, you idiot! If you would've just eaten something—"

"I know," he agrees. "You're right. I'm sorry. It was stupid of me to think I could last that long without eating. And it wasn't fair of me to put you in a situation where you had to witness me pass out. I wish you hadn't."

I step closer so I'm right at the edge of his bedside. "The last time I was in a hospital, I watched my mom die of pancreatic cancer. I can't go through that again. I don't wanna lose my best friend to a defective pancreas, too."

A new look of understanding washes over his face, and he reaches forward, grabbing my hand. "Lexi, I'm not gonna die," he tells me gently. "Not yet. That's why I have Champ most of the time. Even if it means being the weird kid in Australia, I'll bring her with me everywhere I go so you don't have to worry."

Something new bites at me. "You're one of the coolest people in Abilene, J; why do you assume everyone in Australia is gonna think you're so lame? Most people love dogs, and diabetes are a pretty common thing."

He's suddenly unable to look at me. "I dunno. I've never had to play the new kid, Lex. Abilene is all I've ever known, and now I just have to start over without knowing a single person. And I can already tell you're gonna start hanging out with Meredith again when I leave, and Noah is suddenly in the picture, and I guess I just feel like I'm gonna be missing out on so much. And in all honesty, I'm scared."

"Jasper," I say softly, my heart slowly breaking for him.

"Everything is out of my control," he continues droning on, eyes set in a trance-like state. "We'll be caught in a sixteen-hour time difference, so who knows realistically how often we'll be able to speak. I'm gonna have to make entirely new friends. I can't even control my own stupid body without needing some kind of medical device to do its job. I just feel so helpless all the time lately."

"First off, there's nothing wrong with feeling helpless," I say, wishing those words would seep into my own brain. "We all need help from time to time. I'm probably about to be prescribed medicine so I don't want to k—so I can be happy. As for the sixteen-hour thing—yeah, that's gonna be hard. But I have full confidence that we'll get through it. And if our friendship can endure that, I'd say we can endure anything. And don't even stress over making friends. You will."

"None like you, though."

We look at each other, and the moment is charged with a million different emotions zipping between us. Pain. Sorrow. Anticipation. Hope. Pure, genuine love. It's intangible and indescribable, yet it's the kind of sensation that has you confident that you will always have a home with that person, because no physical dwelling could ever provide that kind of steady warmth.

Every muscle in my body screams that I should go walk over to the side of his bed and kiss him the way he kissed me, just a few days ago. We both want that; I now know. But if we're going to do this right, we can't. That would be like dangling a juicy piece of steak in front of a puppy's face, only to shove it in your own mouth instead. Our window for romantic intimacy is over; now we need to put away those feelings for hibernation during this season apart so we can focus on what is tangible and present here and now.

And if a future together is meant to be, it will be.

"I better get going," I say. "Reagan let me leave work to come here because she knew I was gone the same moment you were. But now that I know you're okay, I should probably head back."

"Hang on," Jasper says. "Just one more thing."

"What?"

"I love you."

"Jasper."

"Well I do."

A small smile plays at the corners of my lips. "I love you too. Idiot."

author's note:

this one was hard to write. last semester killed me, and i didn't have time to write. this semester i am studying abroad in spain, and am too busy living life to write. but i'm tired of  being stuck on this chapter (truthfully, stuck on this story) so here we go. i want to finish this story so i can literally and metaphorically close the chapter of my life in which i needed this story as an outlet. so much has changed since i first started writing this in high school, and i'm ready to be freed up from that chapter of my life. but not without first giving this book the closure it deserves. sorry if you agree that this chapter sucks, i just needed to move on. hope you're all doing well! i am thriving here in spain :)