Twenty-Eight

                                    

                                          
Aiden tiptoed back into the bedroom and up to the older boy as he slept in bed, his eyes instantly attracted to the new burgundy hair colour, making his heart skip a beat. 
As much as the younger boy would miss that pure white tone, this reddish-brown hue was captivating.
The younger boy crawled back under the sheets with the brunette, gently snuggling close as he ran his fingers through the fluffy hair. 
His first instinct was to run in and dive on the bed, jolting the elder awake with a smile and a giggle. But when he saw how Nathan lay on his back with a hand on his bare shoulder, Aiden thought against it.
He had been fidgety through the night, which the younger boy figured was a mixture of physical and emotional pain, so he spent hours trailing his fingers through the short, choppy hair, trying to soothe his distress until he fell asleep. 
"Nathan," Aiden whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek as he stroked the vulnerable shoulder, gently pushing it back in hopes he could provide some relief. "Wake up."
The first thing the older boy saw was a flurry of vivid orange.
Aiden was pretty anxious when he started mixing the dye the night before, so much so that he struggled to speak. 
Nathan had picked the colour when they went shopping together, but something about the older boy disliking it made the younger's palms sweaty. He had picked it in the store and had a particular image in mind; it would break his heart if the elder hated the colour.
He was so anxious that the then-white-haired boy picked up his notebook and left the room, giving Aiden the time and space to work out his dread.
Although he never wanted the elder to leave, it felt good to see him sit at the kitchen table with Grace and Chris instead of hiding in fear. The older boy had become more confident when he engaged with the adults.
The orange-haired boy made his way down the stairs, avoiding the hallway mirror to come face to face with the boy he loved. At first, the younger was too afraid to look at his reflection, fearful that the conspicuous colour and the ugly mark on his face would be embarrassing. 
But the wide-eyed look and the grin on Nathan's face said the complete opposite. 
His long, crooked fingers found the slightly damp tangerine hair and slid through as he beamed.
The colour was perfect; it complimented the younger boy's bronze skin tone, bringing out his natural glow without highlighting the scar that made Aiden feel vulnerable.
Afterwards, the pair headed upstairs, where Aiden lovingly painted every strand of Nathan's white hair with the rich reddish-brown he had picked. He gave a loving smile as the older boy sat at the desk, silently allowing Aiden to towel dry his hair with a drowsy look.
It reminded the orange boy of the first time the elder stayed with him, and he ran the hairbrush through his silky locks, trying to distract himself from the oncoming panic whilst helping Nathan out.
Simple things like drying his hair sufficiently were getting harder every day. His left shoulder was so weak that the older boy could barely lift his arm, which meant his right had to work significantly harder, and he began getting tired even faster than usual.
And that was deadly obvious when the two boys returned to school earlier that week, where Nathan discovered he wasn't as well recovered as he thought. 
Staying at home and lounging with the younger boy was easy, but moving around and being physically active again was exhausting. 
Partway through the first morning, the elder began feeling tired and disorientated. It was difficult to concentrate on the teachers and lessons whilst battling the painkiller's dazzling effects, so it was no surprise when Nathan fell asleep at lunchtime.