Theme song:"Unsteady by x-Ambassadors"
"You never really notice the sound of someone's breathing… until you're afraid it might stop."
— Mira
---
The hospital called.
They said he fainted at a bookstore.
I was there in twenty-three minutes.
I counted.
Room 407.
White walls. Fluorescent lights. That sharp, sterile smell I used to associate with bad dreams and now with him.
He looked small.
Not fragile—just... tired in a way that felt deeper than his bones.
Like life was something he'd been carrying for too long.
"Elian," I whispered.
His eyes fluttered open.
"You came."
"I ran," I corrected, managing a shaky smile.
"You hate running."
"You scared me."
He reached for my hand. His skin was cold, paper-thin, but his grip was steady.
"I'm okay," he said, again.
"No, you're not," I replied, sitting down beside him. "You don't have to pretend anymore."
A long silence stretched between us. He looked at the ceiling like it might have answers he couldn't give me.
"They said... the tumors are spreading faster now," he said finally. "Lungs. Liver. Maybe more."
I didn't cry. I wanted to, but the tears stayed somewhere behind my ribs, frozen.
"How long?" I asked, barely able to get the words out.
"They didn't say," he whispered. "But you don't need a calendar to feel the countdown, do you?"
I shook my head.
Then I curled into him, like we could make time forget about us if we just stayed still long enough.
---
He was discharged after three days.
But something had changed.
He didn't joke as much.
Didn't walk as fast.
Didn't pretend like things were getting better.
And yet—he still looked at me like I was the only thing left worth believing in.
---
One evening, we sat on a rooftop. The city stretched below like a tired heart still beating.
"Can I ask you something?" he said, voice soft.
"Anything."
"When it gets worse… and I can't walk, or talk, or even remember your name—will you still love me?"
I looked at him through the orange blush of sunset.
"I'll love you until the stars forget how to shine, Elian."
And I meant it.
Even if he'd forget me first.