“You’re welcome,” Logan whispered, his eyes gently closing as he allowed himself to bask in that moment. “Your friends… they’re amazing. They stayed with you through so much. You shouldn’t let them go.”
Logan reached for one of Adrian’s hands, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to it. Adrian’s breath caught for a moment, and then he nodded, resting his chin lightly on the top of Logan’s head. He didn’t say anything, but the way his arms were around Logan spoke louder than words ever could.
Logan felt Adrian’s hard length pressing against his back, a quiet testament to the pull between them. He smiled to himself, his own body reacting in much the same way. It felt good, grounding, to know Adrian wanted him too, that the connection between them wasn’t just something he imagined.
Sex lingered as an unspoken truth between them. The last time Logan had left things unsaid, it led to devastating heartbreak that shattered them. He was determined not to repeat that mistake, unwilling to let silence create another chasm of pain. Yet, sex had become complicated, especially given the intense emotions it stirred in Adrian. Their last conversationabout it—just yesterday, though it felt like ages ago—highlighted how delicate this topic was for Adrian, revealing the intricacies involved.
He leaned back into Adrian’s embrace, letting the warmth of the water and the strong arms around him ease his thoughts. Logan could have stayed like this forever, wrapped in Adrian’s arms, safe and whole in a way he hadn’t felt in years.
And yet, forever wasn’t guaranteed.
Sex wasn’t the priority, not now. Yes, he wanted Adrian—healwayswanted him—but this wasn’t just about desire. What they were rebuilding was fragile, and Logan knew trust came first. To complicate things with sex before they’d fully regained that foundation could jeopardize everything they were working toward. And then there was the haunting thought that Logan couldn’t escape, the one that clutched at his chest like a rising tide:What if we don’t get forever?
The reality of Adrian’s illness loomed, its shadow darker than anything Logan could bear to acknowledge. He knew the truth of what was coming—pain, weakness, the inevitable march of time running out. Adrian didn’t want to spend his last days in a hospital, but Logan also knew that the disease would soon make every moment more unbearable than the last. He tried to stay positive, never letting those fears spill out where Adrian could see them, but they crept in during quiet moments like this, flooding him with helplessness.
He thought of the last two years—the six months he’d spent numbing himself with Zack, trying to drown the ache of leaving Adrian behind. And now here they were, Adrian’s time slipping through his fingers, and Logan was desperate to hold onto every second he had left. If only he’d come back sooner. If only he’d stayed. Maybe things could have been different.
A tear fell, warm against the cooler air above the water, followed by a whimper from his lips. Adrian’s hand, gentle and familiar, brushed against his cheek. “Lo,” Adrian said softly, his voice barely audible over the gentle bubbling of the hot tub. “Are you crying?”
Logan turned in Adrian’s arms without answering, wrapping himself around the man he loved with a desperation he couldn’t hide. He held him as tightly as he could, burying his face against Adrian’s neck, his breath shaky and uneven. Adrian said nothing for a long moment, just held him, his hands skimming over Logan’s back in soothing strokes.
Then Adrian kissed him. Softly, lightly, again and again. He pressed his lips to Logan’s temple, his cheek, his jaw, each kiss a quiet reassurance that he was there, that Logan wasn’t alone. Logan clung to him, his panic subsiding bit by bit under Adrian’s steadying presence, until he could breathe again.
Silence thickened around them, dense as the tide, swollen with unspoken fears and the brittle shape of hope. Adrian didn’t ask what Logan was thinking; he didn’t need to. Instead, he leaned in, his lips brushing over Logan’s cheek, a silent promise in his touch.
“I’m right here, Lo,” Adrian whispered, his voice resolute despite the heaviness in the air. “We’re here. Right now. We’re hoping. We’ll grow old and gray, remember?” He echoed the tender words Logan had whispered to him mere hours ago, carrying them like a delicate promise against the backdrop of uncertainty.
Logan nodded against him, his arms tightening around Adrian as if he could keep him from slipping away. For now, it was enough to hold him, to feel the strength of his heartbeat against his own, and to let the love between them speak louder than words.
Logan took a shaky breath, his hand coming up to cup Adrian’s face, his thumb brushing over the strong line of his jaw. His eyes locked with Adrian’s, intense and filled with a storm of emotions. He was ready to say it: to tell Adrian never to give up on him again, to beg him to fight, to rail against the quiet surrender that had seeped into Adrian’s life long before the cancer could take him. Logan’s anger wasn’t directed at Adrian, not really; it was aimed at the illness that had already taken so much, at the way it had driven Adrian to retreat from the world. But just as he opened his mouth, he saw it.
A single drop of blood slid down from Adrian’s nose, bright against his skin.
“Damn it,” Logan gasped, a wave of panic crashing through him. He snatched a soft towel from the edge of the tub, his frantic movements causing the water’s surface to ripple and dance violently. With urgency, he pressed the fabric against Adrian’s nose, his heart pounding in his chest. “You’re bleeding,” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper, trembling as the chilling grip of fear constricted around him, threatening to suffocate his resolve.
Adrian blinked in astonishment, his demeanor inscrutable, a façade of tranquility that unnerved Logan. It was as if the chaos around them held no sway over him. “It’s nothing,” Adrian murmured, his voice a steady stream beneath the harsh reality of the crimson stains blossoming across the towel. For a fleeting moment, he peeled it away, before hastily pressing it back to his wounded nose. “I don’t even feel it, Lo. It’s just… nothing,” he insisted, as if trying to convince not only his lover but perhaps himself of that chilling detachment.
Logan’s eyes bore into Adrian’s, his worry sharp and unrelenting. It was on the tip of his tongue to insist they go to the hospital, to demand that Adrian stop brushing this off like it didn’t matter. The doctor had warned him about nose and gum bleeds, bruises, fatigue, bone pain, and all the various other symptoms that might creep in, but knowing didn’t make it any easier to see.
When the bleeding finally slowed, Logan scooped water from the tub in his hands and gently cleaned Adrian’s face. His touch was tender, as if he were trying to wash away more than just the blood—trying to erase the fear, the helplessness, the reminder of Adrian’s fragility. He whispered reassurances to himself more than to Adrian, a quiet litany ofthe doctor warned about this, it’s normal, it’s fine.
Adrian’s hands gently rose to cradle Logan’s face, grounding him with a tender steadiness. He leaned in softly, his lips brushing against Logan’s in a kiss that was both delicate and insistent, a quiet, irenic touch to chase away the phantoms of fear. With each kind press, Adrian sought to dissolve the trembling hurt within Logan. Gradually, the tension melted away as Logan surrendered, allowing himself to be enveloped by Adrian’s warm embrace, finding solace in the comfort of his touch.
When the water cooled and their bodies began to chill, they stepped out of the tub. Logan dried Adrian off, his hands lingering on his shoulders, his back, as if afraid to let him go. Adrian mirrored the gesture, his eyes soft and watchful as he dried Logan’s skin, neither of them speaking.
They crawled into bed together, their movements slow and almost ritualistic. Logan wrapped himself around Adrian, pulling him close, his head resting against Adrian’s chest as he listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The sound soothed him, grounding him in the presentmoment. Adrian’s arms tightened around him, his hand gently running through Logan’s hair.
The next day, they sat in the quiet hum of the doctor’s office, the faint sunlight streaming through the blinds doing little to ease the tension that clung to the air. Adrian sat still, his hands clasped in his lap, his face calm but pale. Logan, on the other hand, was a bundle of restless energy, his knee bouncing uncontrollably, his hand occasionally running through his hair.
The doctor, a woman with sharp eyes, looked at them both with a measured expression. She and her team had been in close contact with the team in Seattle that Logan had reached out to, and the two groups of doctors had worked tirelessly, running tests and poring over Adrian’s case. Now, she sat before them, her voice steady but tinged with the kind of gravity that came from years of delivering life-altering news.
“We’ve reviewed everything extensively,” the doctor began, glancing at the notes in front of her. “And after careful discussion with the team in Seattle, we’ve determined that Adrian is a candidate for the experimental treatment.”
Logan exhaled audibly, relief washing over him as he reached for Adrian’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Adrian’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though his eyes remained fixed on the doctor, cautious, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The doctor continued, “The experimental treatment will take place in Seattle, and we’ll need to get you there as soon as possible. We havedetermined that you’ll be conducting all of the treatment there. But I need to be upfront with both of you, Adrian, the cancer has progressed significantly. It’s more advanced than we would have hoped for when considering this type of program.”
Logan’s grip on Adrian’s hand tightened involuntarily, his heart sinking at the words. “Wh-what…” he started, his voice breaking slightly. “What do you mean by advanced?”
