"It's not fair to him." Dr. Aaron persisted gently. "Or to yourself.""Nothing about this is fair," I retorted, a flash of anger cutting through the exhaustion. "It's not fair that I'm dying at eighteen. It's not fair that I'll never graduate college or have a career or a family. It's not fair that I'm in love with my best friend and can't tell him because I don't want my death to destroy him."The words hung in the air between us, the first time I'd admitted aloud what I felt for Rafael. Dr. Aaron's expression softened."Oh Sam..." he said quietly. "I'm so sorry."A nurse interrupted, bringing another bag of antibiotics. While she checked my vitals, Dr. Aaron stepped out to call May, who would be waking up to my flimsy note by now.Left alone, I closed my eyes, trying to block out the antiseptic smell and the beeping machines. I'd been in and out of hospitals my entire life, but this admission felt different—heavier, more final somehow. The beginning of the end.My phone buzzed on th
Marcus appeared in the doorway, looking oddly out of place in the sterile hospital room with his designer clothes and perfect hair. He carried a small vase of flowers and what looked like a book."Sam." he said, his confident demeanor faltering slightly when he saw the oxygen tubing and IV lines. "I...I hope I'm not intruding.""How did you know I was here?" I asked, painfully aware of how I must look, pale, sweaty, my hair a tangled mess against the pillow."My mother sits on the hospital board," he explained, setting the flowers on the windowsill. "She mentioned a young woman with CF had been admitted. There aren't many of us in town, so.." He trailed off awkwardly."That's...thoughtful," I said, unsure how to feel about his presence. We weren't friends, exactly, just friendly acquaintances from his regular visits to the bakery."I brought you these," he continued, holding out the book. It was another first edition..." 'Anne of Green Gables' this time. "My mother always says books
RAFAEL~Three days since Sam's last message, and I was starting to lose my fucking mind.'just a cold' , she'd said. 'talk later', she'd said. But then radio silence. My texts sat unanswered, calls went straight to voicemail. May had texted yesterday saying Sam was sleeping a lot, needed rest, was 'under the weather' , all the bullshit euphemisms adults use when they're hiding something.I paced my bedroom, phone in hand, checking for the hundredth time for a message that wasn't there. This wasn't like Sam. Even at her worst, she always responded eventually, usually with some smartass comment about my impatience."Fuck this." I muttered, grabbing my jacket. I'd go to her house, camp on the porch if necessary. Maybe bring soup or something, like a normal person would.Then I remembered.The notebook. The fucking poetry notebook I'd left at Sam's house on Tuesday, when I'd stopped by to check on her after work. May had called her downstairs for a phone call, and in my hurry to shov
May blocked my path, her usually warm demeanor replaced with something firmer. "Not today, Raf. She needs uninterrupted rest.""But he can visit ?" I jerked my chin toward Marcus, who had the sense to look uncomfortable."I was just dropping off some reading material," he explained mildly. "I didn't actually see Sam.""Reading material" I repeated flatly, imagining more first editions and fancy gifts. "How fucking thoughtful.""Rafael," May said sharply. "Not now."Something was off. May looked too worried, too worn down for this to be about a simple cold. And why would Marcus bring gifts if he wasn't even seeing Sam?Nothing made sense."May, please," I said, my voice lower now. "I just need to know she's okay."Her expression softened slightly. "She will be. She just needs time.""Time for what?" My frustration was mounting. "What's really going on?""Nothing you need to worry about," she said firmly. "I'll have her call you when she's feeling up to it."Before I could argue further
"I need to go," I said abruptly, brushing past Leila toward where I'd parked Persephone."Say hi to Damien for me!" she called after me, the smugness in her voice making me grip my keys so hard they cut into my palm.I rode aimlessly for hours, the wind and engine noise drowning out my thoughts. The notebook burned in my pocket like a live coal. By the time I finally headed home, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the empty streets.My phone buzzed as I pulled into the driveway. Heart racing, I yanked it from my pocket, hoping to see Sam's name.{ Sorry for the radio silence. Fever broke. Still tired but feeling human again }Relief flooded me, followed immediately by suspicion. The message was too formal, too carefully worded. It didn't sound like Sam at all.{ Glad you're alive. Why is Marcus bringing you gifts? } I typed back before I could stop myself.the response came after a few seconds { He brought a book. Just being nice. Why? }I stared at the message, hearing
SAMANTHA~I'd never been a good liar, but after nine days of practice, I was getting better."You're sure you're up for this?" Rafael asked for the third time as he loaded a small cooler into Persephone's saddlebags. His eyes scanned my face with an intensity that made me nervous. "You still look pale.""I'm fine." I insisted, adjusting my backpack straps over my shoulders. The weight made my lungs protest, but I carefully controlled my breathing. "It was just a bad flu. I'm over it now."The truth, that I'd spent three days in the hospital with pneumonia, another four on home oxygen, and was still taking oral antibiotics, remained lodged in my throat like a stone. I'd rehearsed the lie with May, constructing a neat timeline that explained my absence without raising suspicion. I'd even convinced her to hide all evidence of my medical equipment before Rafael arrived.Rafael studied me a moment longer, unconvinced. "If you're not feeling it— ""I want to do this," I interrupted, forc
We reached the clearing half an hour later, a perfect circle of flat ground surrounded by pines, with an unobstructed view of the sky above. Rafael set up our tent with practiced efficiency while I arranged stones for a small fire pit."We should take the before picture," I said once camp was established. "For evidence."Rafael pulled out his phone, wrapping an arm around my shoulders to pull me close for the selfie. "Say 'cosmic perspective,' " he instructed.I smiled, leaning into him, acutely aware of his body heat, the solid strength of him against my side. The camera flashed, capturing the moment, both of us wind, tousled and flushed from the hike, the darkening sky behind us."One more for luck." Rafael said, but this time, instead of looking at the camera, he turned toward me just as the shutter clicked.I felt my cheeks warm, but didn't pull away. "Did you just ruin our evidence photo?""Nope. Made it better." He tucked the phone away without showing me the result. "I'll star
He must have heard something in my tone, because he turned to face me fully. "What's going on with you, Sunny? And don't say 'nothing' or 'I'm fine.' something's different."I stared into the fire, unable to meet his eyes. "Just growing up, I guess. Realizing life is complicated.""Is it the asthma getting worse?" he pressed. "Because May seemed really worried, and you were sick longer than made sense for just a flu.""It's not that," I lied, still unable to tell him the full truth. "I've just been thinking a lot about what matters, what I want to do with the time I have.""The time you have?" he repeated, frowning. "You make it sound like you're dying or something."My laugh came out forced. "Aren't we all technically?""That's dark, even for you." He studied me in the firelight. "Seriously, Sam. Talk to me."I finally met his gaze, seeing the concern there, the care that might turn to pity if he knew the truth. "I just want to focus on now," I said softly. "On being here, with you,
I slid my hands into his hair, tugging to bring his face back to mine for a kiss that quickly deepened, tongues meeting in a dance we'd perfected over months of exploration. My legs parted instinctively, allowing him to settle more fully against me, the thin fabric of our sleep shorts doing nothing to hide his arousal. "Condom?" he murmured against my lips. I shook my head. "Pill. And clean test results, remember?" A month ago, we'd both been tested — Rafael's idea, surprisingly— and decided to stop using condoms. The intimacy of nothing between us was still new enough to feel thrilling. "Just checking," he said, sliding down my body once more. His fingers hooked in the waistband of my shorts, drawing them down slowly, teasingly, lips following the path of newly exposed skin. By the time he settled between my thighs, I was trembling with anticipation. The first touch of his tongue against my center had me biting down on my knuckles to stifle a moan. He knew exactly how
The bedroom door swung open again, this time revealing May with a dish towel thrown over her shoulder. "Dinner's ready," she announced, then noticed the letters scattered across the bed. "What's all this?" "Raf got into MIT, Georgia Tech, and Carnegie Mellon," I said, unable to keep the pride from my voice. "Full scholarship for MIT!" May's eyebrows shot up. "No shit? That's fantastic, Rafael." The genuine pleasure in her tone seemed to surprise him. My sister and boyfriend had developed an uneasy truce over the years, bonded primarily by their shared concern for me. This was perhaps the one of warmest she'd ever been with him. "Thanks," he said, awkwardness creeping into his posture. "We should celebrate," May continued. "I think there's a bottle of champagne in the back of the fridge from New Year's." "You don't have to — " Rafael began. "Yes we do," May insisted. "This is a big deal. Put those away and come eat before the lasagna gets cold. We'll toast to MIT's newest engin
SAMANTHA~It took three days for Rafael to move in officially. Three days of him shuttling between our apartment and his father's house—I couldn't bring myself to call it his house, even though legally that's what it was now. Three days of watching him sort through nineteen years of a life shared with a man he barely knew."I don't know what to do with all this shit," he said on the third night, sprawled on my bed, exhaustion etched into every line of his body. "It's just.. stuff. Expensive stuff that doesn't mean anything."I ran my fingers through his hair, dark strands sliding between them like silk. "You don't have to decide everything right now.""The lawyer said I should sell the house." He turned his face into my pillow. "Says the market's good, and the money would be better in investments.""Do you want to sell it?""Fuck yes." His voice was muffled but vehement. "I never want to set foot in that mausoleum again."I didn't push. Just continued the slow, rhythmic strokes thro
I buried my face in her neck, inhaling the familiar scent of her skin. "Don't go...." I murmured, the words muffled against her. She stilled, understanding the layers beneath my simple request. "I'm right here," she said carefully. "I need you." My hands slid under her simple black dress, seeking skin, connection, proof of life. "Raf," she breathed, caught between concern and responding desire. "Are you sure this is what you need right now?" "You..." I repeated, kissing her with a desperate hunger that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with affirming that we were both still here, still alive, still together. "Just you." She hesitated only a moment before responding, her lips softening under mine, her body melting against me as understanding passed between us without words. This wasn't about pleasure but presence, not passion but connection. We made love there on the couch, slow and tender, my ears filled with her soft sighs and whispered reassurances. I tried to me
She led me back to her apartment. bMay took one look at us and wordlessly made breakfast, setting a plate of eggs and toast in front of me that I managed to choke down only because Sam watched me with worried eyes. After, Sam drew me a shower and gave me one of the t shirts I'd left at their place. Clean, fed, but still hollowed out, I finally let her lead me to her bedroom. She pulled me down beside her on the narrow bed, tucking herself against me like she'd done countless times, her head on my chest, arm draped across my waist. "Talk when you're ready," she murmured. "Or don't. I'm here either way." That's when it hit me, the full, crushing reality. My father was dead. By his own hand. The last words he'd ever write to me were on that pathetic fucking note, as inadequate as every conversation we'd never had.... "He didn't even say he loved me" I whispered, the words ripping from me like they were barbed. "Nineteen years, and he couldn't even write that he loved me in his fu
RAFAEL ~I knew something was wrong the moment I stepped into the house. it was too quiet, too still — like walking into a tomb. Dad's Black Audi was in the driveway, which was already weird. He wasn't supposed to be back from his Tokyo trip until next week."Dad...?" I called out, dropping my backpack by the door. No answer.The kitchen was empty, pristine as always since no one actually cooked in it. A half-empty glass of whiskey sat on the counter, Dad's usual, Macallan 18, the expensive shit he said was the only thing worth drinking. Next to it was an envelope with my name scrawled across it in his precise handwriting.My stomach dropped."Dad?!?" I called again, louder this time.I grabbed the envelope, tearing it open as I moved through the house. The note inside was brief, typical of a man who'd spent my entire life saying as little as possible to me.[ Rafael,I'm sorry for this. The life insurance policy will provide for you. Don't make my mistakes. Your mother would have d
Rafael was more protective, yes, but also more present. He'd taken to studying my medications, researching CF treatments late into the night, accompanying me to doctor appointments. Sometimes I caught him watching me with an intensity that stole my breath, memorizing me, I realized, for the day when memories would be all he had left.The physical aspect of our relationship had evolved too. Where before there had been playful exploration, now there was often a desperate edge to our lovemaking, as if we could somehow outrun death by losing ourselves in each other."Done." Rafael announced, hitting submit on the final application. "Five schools. You happy now?""Ecstatic." I said, meaning it. "You're going to get in everywhere.""Maybe." He pulled me onto his lap, nuzzling my neck. "Now can we please do something more interesting than college essays?"I laughed, though it triggered a small cough. "Such as?"His hands slid under my tshirt, warm against my skin. "I have a few ideas."Th
He paced the small living room like a caged animal. "Two years. Jesus Christ Sam." "Maybe longer with the clinical trial!" I offered, desperate for any hope to give him. "The one Marcus mentioned. I called him yesterday —" "Ohh, you called Marcus. That's fucking great." The jealousy in his tone was unexpected. "Planning your medical future with your bookstore boyfriend?" "He's not, it's not like that. He's a pharmaceutical rep whose cousin died of CF. He's trying to help." "By taking pictures of your medical records? Some help ." I sighed, too tired for this particular fight. "Can we not do this right now? Please? I've told you the truth. If you want to walk away, I understand. You didn't sign up for this." Rafael stopped pacing abruptly. "Walk away? Is that what you think I'm going to do?" "It's what most people would do," I said quietly. "It's what I'd understand if you did." "Then you don't know me at all." He dropped to his knees in front of me, taking my hands in his. "I'
Three days after the bakery confrontation, Rafael came back.I was sitting on the fire escape outside my bedroom window, my thinking spot since childhood, when Persephone's distinctive rumble cut through the evening quiet. My heart leapt into my throat even as I told myself not to hope. He could be visiting May, collecting things he'd left at our apartment, or a dozen other reasons that didn't involve forgiving me.I watched him park, remove his helmet, and sit on his bike for a long moment, head bowed as if gathering courage.When he finally looked up, his eyes found me immediately, as if he'd known exactly where I'd be.The summer heat pressed down like a physical weight as I climbed back through my window, each movement measured and careful to avoid triggering a coughing fit. My lungs felt heavy, congested with the mucus that was my constant companion, worsened by three days of crying. I'd started the antibiotics Dr Aaron prescribed after my latest lung culture showed an infectio