RAFAEL~Something wasn't right with Sam.Three weeks after our rain-soaked camping trip, I still couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something. Little things that most people wouldn't notice, but after nearly ten years of friendship, I noticed everything about Samantha Ellis.Like how she'd cancel plans at the last minute with vague excuses about 'not feeling well' or 'family stuff' Or how she'd sometimes disappear mid-conversation to take calls in private. Or the way May watched her constantly with that worried crease between her eyebrows.But most concerning were the pills.I first noticed them the day after our camping trip. We were hanging out in her room, her showing me some college brochure she'd gotten in the mail, one she seemed strangely disinterested in despite it being her dream school, when her phone alarm went off. She'd immediately tensed, made some excuse about needing water, and disappeared downstairs.When she didn't return after ten minutes, I went look
The sound of voices made me look up. Through the bakery's kitchen window, I could see May and the doctor in what appeared to be a serious conversation. May was shaking her head, arms crossed, while the doctor spoke with animated hand gestures.I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I didn't need to . Their body language told me enough, this was about Sam, and it was serious. More serious than asthma.My phone buzzed in my pocket.{ Sorry for bailing......make it up to you tomorrow? thinking we should tackle item 6 on the list! }I stared at the message, heat rising to my face as I recalled item six on her bucket list. She'd crossed it out immediately, embarrassed, but the memory of her writing it, of my surprised reaction, remained crystal clear.Was she...serious? Or was this another deflection?Before I could respond, another text appeared:{ That came out wrong. I meant getting a piercing or something. Not...you know, unless...no, forget I said anything! i think my brain foggy
SAMANTHA ~ I'd been staring at the same page for twenty minutes, the words blurring together as my mind wandered to the conversation ahead. Four o'clock. The garage. Rafael waiting for answers I wasn't sure I could give. didn't want to give. "You look like you're planning a bank heist instead of reading Jane Austen," May commented, setting a mug of tea beside my bed. "Nervous about seeing Rafael?" "That obvious huh?" I dog-eared the page and set the book aside. "I told him I'd explain everything today." May's eyebrows shot up. "Everything? As in..." "No, not everything," I clarified, wrapping my hands around the warm mug. "Just... something. I don't know what yet." She perched on the edge of my bed, concern etched across her features. "Sam, you know I support whatever you decide to tell him. But are you sure you're ready for this conversation? Especially after yesterday's tests?" The question hung in the air between us. Yesterday's pulmonary function tests had shown another f
By the time I reached Jen's garage, it was three thirty, and the first raindrops were beginning to fall. The large bay doors were open, but I didn't see Rafael's familiar form among the few mechanics working inside. Jen spotted me hovering in the entrance and waved me over. "He's in the office over there finishing paperwork." she said without preamble, wiping her hands on a rag. "Been like a bear with a thorn in his paw all day. Fix that, will you?" I smiled weakly. "I'll try." "Good girl." She nodded toward the back. "Go on through. And Sam? Whatever's going on between you two, figure it out. Life's too short for bullshit." If only she knew how short. I found Rafael hunched over a desk in Jen's cluttered office, scowling at an invoice. He hadn't noticed me yet, giving me a moment to study him unobserved, the furrow between his dark brows, the tension in his shoulders, the way his hair fell across his forehead as he leaned forward. Beautiful, even in his frustration. "Hey," I
From caring and liking a dying girl. From the grief that would follow. From the cruel reality that any future he imagined with me was already impossible.But I couldn't say those things. Not yet. Maybe not ever.Instead, I did the only thing I could think of to stop the questions, to bridge the distance between us without words.I grabbed the front of his oil stained tshirt, pulled him down to me, and kissed him.For one terrible second, he froze, and I thought I'd miscalculated catastrophically. Then his hands came up to cradle my face, and he was kissing me back with a desperation that matched my own.The kiss was nothing like I'd imagined during countless sleepless nights. It wasn't tentative or sweet or careful. It was raw and messy and urgent, the physical manifestation of everything we'd left unsaid for too long.His mouth was warm and insistent against mine, his hands gentle on my face even as the kiss deepened. I pressed closer, backing us into the desk, needing to feel the so
I woke to the sound of rain still pattering against my bedroom window, the gray morning light casting shadows across my ceiling. For one blissful moment, I existed in the liminal space between sleep and wakefulness, where nothing hurt and everything was simple.Then reality crashed back, my aching lungs, the ever-present fatigue, and the memory of Rafael's lips against mine.Rafael. Kissing me...I touched my fingers to my mouth, half-convinced I'd dreamed the whole thing. But the tenderness of my lips and the text waiting on my phone confirmed it had been very real:{ still thinking about yesterday, see you at 2? I'll pick you up } A smile spread across my face before I could stop it. After the storm hit full force yesterday, Jen had practically shoved us out of the garage, Rafael insisting on driving me home on Persephone despite the rain. We'd arrived at my place drenched and laughing, and he'd kissed me again , quickly, sweetly, before roaring off into the downpour.The memory se
He extracted a textbook from his messenger bag, flipping to a problem set. As I leaned over to see better, I caught a whiff of his cologne, something expensive and subtle. I explained the concept he was struggling with, watching understanding dawn on his face. "That actually makes sense now." he said, sounding genuinely grateful. "You should consider teaching." I smiled. "In another life maybe." His expression shifted, becoming more serious. "I've been meaning to ask you something," he began, sliding the wrapped package toward me. "Would you like to go to dinner sometime? There's this great Italian place in the city..." Before I could respond, the bell jingled again. I looked up to see Rafael standing in the doorway, his dark eyes immediately finding mine, then narrowing as they shifted to Marcus. "Hey." I said, standing perhaps too quickly. "You're early." Rafael approached the counter, his expression carefully neutral but tension evident in the set of his shoulders. "Jen
May emerged from the kitchen then, catching the tail end of our exchange. Her eyes met mine over Rafael's shoulder, concern evident in her expression. Soon, I mouthed to her. She nodded, unconvinced but unwilling to push in front of Rafael."You two heading out?" she asked, wiping flour from her hands.Rafael turned, his arm sliding naturally around my waist. "If you can spare her?""Take her," May said, her smile genuine despite her worry. "Just have her home by ten. She needs rest.""Yes ma'am," Rafael agreed, too happy to question why a nineteen yearold needed such an early curfew.As we left the bakery, his fingers intertwined with mine, I allowed myself to imagine, just for a moment, that this was normal. That we were just two teenagers starting a relationship, with all the time in the world ahead of us. That the weight in my chest was just nervous excitement, not the progressive scarring of my lungs.The rain had stopped, leaving the world washed clean and glistening. Rafael led
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