I felt Patrick shake my shoulders and I groaned, rolling over. He kissed my hair and got the same reaction. "Come on," He tickled my side, "We're doing something special today."

"You're idea of special day is going out to karaoke," I groaned. "And calling it band rehearsal."

"It's more professional that way!" Patrick insisted. "Besides, its not that." He walked out of the room, calling, "I'll make some breakfast and then you'd better get down there, missy."

I rolled my eyes, clamoring out of the bed. I hadn't told him, but I knew that it was more than just the normal morning tiredness sweeping through my body. No, this was more intense, complete. Symptoms.

Sure enough, as soon as I went into the bathroom my nose began to bleed. "Shit!" I swore, reaching for napkins. "Not today, please. Not today."

The bleeding slowed to a trickle, and I pulled the napkin away. The blood was tinged with white, never a good sign. Not even for a normal person.

I threw it away and grabbed another one, wiping off the blood that had gotten on my chin. Moving my arm, I looked on my back. There were a few petechiae- red dots that were caused by bleeding under the skin. I made sure to cover them with my sweatshirt.

Patrick was at the bottom of the stairs, holding a piece of burnt toast. He moved to throw it to me, but I stopped him. "I'm not that hungry." I shrugged.

"Bailey." He warned, "You already lose enough weight with cancer as it is, and therapy doesn't help. You need to eat."

"How'd you know the symptoms?" I asked him.

"Researched," He frowned slightly, "I couldn't sleep."

I nodded. "Okay, I'll eat. Just not-that." I waved my hand at the blackened bread.

Patrick shrugged, accepting my answer, "I can understand that. Mine tasted like something died in my mouth."

"It's toast, Patrick." I said, stepping down the stairs, "How do you ruin that?"

"You're thingamajig is broken."

"The toaster?" I laughed, clasping my arms around his neck.

"Yeah," He kissed my cheek. "That. I couldn't remember what to call it."

"Where to first?" I asked him, pulling away. Instead of answering, he picked me up princess style.

"No pain?" He checked, a little nervous.

"No pain." I replied honestly, letting him carry me out the door.

We arrived at the park about a half hour later, just walking. Well, Pat was walked. I was complaining about how bumpy his gait was. We stopped at Dunkin' Donuts for coffee and, of course, donuts. I tossed my cup into the park's can and looked around, recognizing where we were. The first place Patrick and I had met (On purpose, of course)-The heart tree.

Patrick pulled out a small pocket knife and held it out to me. "After you." He said, always the gentleman.

I took the knife with a smile and wrote my initials, BJ, as well as the year, 2016, as neatly as I could. With my shaky hands, it was pretty bad.

Patrick went next, writing his initials next to mine. "Why didn't you write your middle initial?" He asked me when he was done, stepping back to admire our handiwork.

I raised my eyebrows. "BS? The first thing people see, BS?"

He chuckled, "Good point."

Patrick held my hand and pulled me towards a movie theater, buying tickets for a marathon, an after Halloween special.

The movies were, in order, Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, Rocky, Inception, Terminator-Which Patrick and I both laughed at, thinking of what Pete would do-and ending with Forrest Gump. I was glad to note that I wasn't the only one exiting with tears in my eyes.

When we walked outside, Patrick and I found out why everyone was in such a hurry to get back to their cars. It was raining, hard.

"I've always wanted to see this." I told Patrick, catching the big, fat raindrops on my open palm.

"See what? rain?"

"Not just rain. The kind of rain that's fat and wet and soaks you in minutes. The rain that they sing about and causes the most romantic scenes in movies."

"Romance, you say?" He twirled me off the porch. "I can do romance."

We danced around in the rain, laughing. Patrick was singing, "I'm singing in the rain, just singing in the rain. What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again!"

I laughed, "You're such a dork." I teased, stopping. My legs burned from dancing, to tired to go any further. Patrick let me lean against him.

"I got you," he said into my hair, "I got you." Patrick kissed the top of my head, running his hands through my hair.

Suddenly, I jumped, hearing a loud, blaring horn. Pete's car pulled up. "Hey! No PDA over there!" He shouted, "I'm your chaperon, and I will have order."

"Umbridge." I muttered, which made Patrick laugh.

"What?" Pete demanded, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," We chorused. Patrick met my eyes, mouthing "Professor" and I snorted.

It was the best day yet.