He spent most of the day buried under blankets, silent, worn thin. Logan didn’t push. He stayed close, brought water, took his vitals, read quietly, and kept Dr. Tierney updated.
But by evening, Adrian seemed a little steadier—clearer-eyed, less pale. He made it to the balcony again and took Logan with him to watch the sunset, like he cherished their small routines just as Logan did.
And that felt like enough.
As the air turned brisk and nipped at their skin, they retreated inside, crushing into the soft embrace of the couch. The muted glow of the screen flickered to life as Logan dialed down the volume, setting the mood just right. Adrian nestled against him, arms wrapped tightly, seeking warmth and affection, their connection radiating like a gentle flame against the encroaching cold.
Outside, the city murmured—the soft, distant hush of traffic, of life continuing. Inside, the only sounds were the screen’s low murmur and the quiet rhythm of Logan’s fingers tracing lazy circles along Adrian’s arm.
Adrian’s breathing slowed. Less strained now. Less guarded.
He drifted. Dipped in and out of sleep like a leaf caught in water. Every time he blinked awake, he tried to pretend he hadn’t missed anything—eyes flicking to the screen, lips parting like he might ask a question, and then thinking better of it.
Logan had been watching him throughout, his gaze imbued with a profound intensity, laden with desperation. It was a fear that had nestled deep within his soul, flourishing in the quiet cavities between his ribs, like an ache that refused to diminish.
Then, gently, he reached for the remote and turned the TV off.
Adrian opened his eyes and saw it there—the terror, the helplessness. He hated it. Hated that Logan had to carry this, that he was the one causing it. So, with what little strength he had, he reached up, his fingers tracing over Logan’s face, brushing along his jaw, his neck. His skin was soft, smooth, warm under Adrian’s trembling fingertips.
“Lo…” Adrian breathed, barely audible.
Logan was already there, fingers weaving through his like muscle memory, lifting Adrian’s hand to his lips. He kissed the fragile skin gently, reverently.
“Yeah, baby,” he murmured. “I’m here.”
Adrian swallowed, his throat working slowly. “You remember your promise, right?” His voice was thready, worn down at the edges, but his grip tightened, shaky but insistent, needing something solid to hold onto.
Logan didn’t ask which one. He didn’t need to.
The pain in his chest swelled, thick and suffocating, as he nodded. Adrian promised to get treatment, and Logan would keep living, not give up. That was what Adrian had made him swear. To not drown when the inevitable tide came to take him away.
Adrian exhaled shakily and pulled Logan’s hand closer, turning it over so he could run his fingers along the tattoo inked into his wrist—the one Adrian had traced a thousand times, the one that had the life-saver bracelet with the line from their song in delicate, curling script, forever etched into Logan’s skin. On top of it rested the original lifesaver bracelet after Zack had returned it.
“God, I love how crazy you are,” Adrian chuckled, pressing a kiss against the ink.
Logan laughed, but the sound cracked down the middle. It was too full, too layered: part amusement, part grief, part plea. It sounded like someone trying to hold everything in at once and failing.
Adrian looked at him, whisky-colored eyes shining with something unreadable, something fragile and infinite all at once. He hesitated, then spoke, his voice no more than a whisper. “I need to ask you for another promise.”
Logan swallowed hard. “Anything.” His free hand drifted to Adrian’s knit cap, his fingers ghosting over the soft fabric, as if memorizing the shape of him.
Adrian took a slow breath, pulling his head away from Logan’s chest to sit upright, facing Logan. Logan instinctively wrapped his arm around him, and in that embrace, Logan’s love radiated a healing power that surpassed anything chemotherapy could offer. “If this… if this isn’t working, I know you already talked to Dr. Tierney about other options.” His voice wavered, but he kept going. “But please, if it’s not working—no more.”
Logan stiffened. The air in his lungs vanished. “No.”
“Lo—”
“No.” Logan shook his head, his grip tightening around Adrian’s fingers like he could anchor him here, like he could fight back the tide by sheer will alone. “You promised. You promised you’d keep getting the treatments.”
“And I did.” Adrian’s voice was soft, but the weight of it crushed Logan’s chest. “I did, and they gave me more time with you. More moments. More memories. But, Lo…” His voice quivered, and he briefly shut his eyes, gathering his composure, before locking his gaze directly into Logan’s shimmering silver irises, his tone pleading. “Please. No more. I can’t do it again. Everything hurts.Everything. I can’t—I can’t go through another chemo.”
Tears burned down Logan’s cheeks, hot and unrelenting. His entire body ached with the weight of it, the reality of it. He wanted to fight. To argue. TobegAdrian to hold on, to promise him more time, more days, more nights, more ofthem.
But Adrian was already looking at him with those deep, aching eyes, with something like peace written in the quiet corners of his face.
“Please,” Adrian whispered, bringing Logan’s hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss against his knuckles, lingering. “Don’t ask me to go through it again.”
Logan released a heart-wrenching sob, grasping Adrian’s hand as if it were the sole anchor preventing him from completely fracturing. And somehow, it was.
