I wish the moment of solace I had that night, letting some of the emotion out and cradled against Seokjin, would have carried into the coming days. It was a fruitless desire because everything went wrong, starting the following afternoon during a check-up with the physician overseeing my dad's care where he identified an air leak. Regardless of his assurance that it was a common post-surgery complication that would likely be remedied with a few more days in the hospital, it was the reinitiation of my madness.

Three days of recovery turned into five. Seokjin stayed with me at the hospital for the bulk of time, bringing back quick meals that he put together during his short trips home for a good shower or to run errands.

Faye flew in at the start of the weekend, wiggling her eyebrows as she recalled the ease of her transition from the airport to the hospital, courtesy of Seokjin's booking. She carried a small vase of sunflowers in one hand with attached balloons that trailed behind, her other arm reaching out to embrace each of us.

She perched on the edge of my dad's bed, listening intently as he started in on telling her about the time between the last we'd seen each other despite having already heard every story from my experience.

Seokjin and my dad insisted that we spend some of our time away from the hospital, urging us to go out for lunches and catch up privately at every opportune moment.

"I know I liked the last two, but this one is really special." She commented while blow drying my hair on Sunday afternoon. I'd been rocking the same ratty ponytail for a week, her confidence that a good wash and blowout would help my mood a kind idea if not a bit of a reach. "Dad told me Jin will be getting the results from his scan tomorrow. I'm going to stay with him for the day so you two can meet with the doctor and have the day together after." She switched between looking at me through the vanity mirror and keeping her attention on the pieces of hair she pressed.

"You don't have to. I can come back after." I objected, thinking of her flight home the following night.

She finished the last piece, my hair clean and light after her work. "Yes I do. Either way, you two should take some time together after." She crouched in front of me, laying and then relaying strands until she was satisfied.

I appreciated her candor, rarely filled with worry and with an optimistic outlook I wanted to bottle. She didn't allow us to linger on the unknowns or what ifs, moving back to observe her work before handing me a small mirror for a closer look.

Her offer became our saving grace. I knew she'd care for my dad as diligently as I would, and that she wouldn't hold back on giving me more updates than most saw as necessary. Being in the medical district made the walk to the lead oncologist's office simpler, though my feet drug with the same sense of dread I felt getting my dad's results.

Seokjin was mute, carrying tension in his shoulders and I wanted nothing more than to provide some ease. My hand quivered as it curled around his arm and when we entered the medical office, I only wished to continue holding on to him, unable to with the space between the chairs we occupied.

Dr. Ahn greeted Seokjin with a firm handshake, turning to me with an unrealistically perfect smile. "You must be Seline." He offered me the same.

He didn't waste time, maintaining a calm neutrality in his presentation of Seokjin's results. I could feel my heartbeat pulsing at the base of my throat, sound clouding from his initial statement. "Good news first."

First, that meant there was something to come after. A piece of good news to buffer the bad.

I didn't realize I wasn't listening until Seokjin took my hand from where it gripped the arm of my chair, giving it a small squeeze.

"While there hasn't been any growth of cancerous cells, there also hasn't been any reduction." Dr. Ahn clasped his hands at the center of his desk. He gave us a moment to process, frozen in place until he spoke again. "We're in the same place we started."

It was as if every drop of air was sucked from the room. Seokjin didn't speak but I watched him nod in my peripheral view, his chin with a slight drop of disappointment.

Seeing him dejected helped me to release the tension in my jaw. "Okay, what are his options?" I pressed, leaning forward in my seat. Dr. Ahn shared a look with Seokjin, filled with information I wasn't privy to. "Can we get him into another trial? There has to be something. Even if it's in another country. I don't care. We'll go anywhere." I was becoming desperate and Dr. Ahn seemed torn as he looked between us, curiosity in his eyes when they met Seokjin's and with mine, sorrow.

"Seokjin," he settled on speaking directly with his patient, "the last time we spoke–"

"I know," he was cut off, "things have changed?" Seokjin replied, his statement taking on the air of a question. There was so much unsaid and while I wanted to piece it together, I had little concern other than saving him.

To resist jumping in felt impossible, my emotions and edginess forming a culmination of adrenaline.

"Options, there has to be something." I insisted. When Dr. Ahn kept his sight on Seokjin, my agitation doubled. "No, look at me. There has to be something." My voice broke on the last word, followed by a shuttering exhale.

"There is another option for a trial if you want it." I noticed the way he turned his attention back to Seokjin in the latter half of his statement. "It doesn't start for another year and it'll be in the second phase of testing."

Follow up questions were spewing before I could process. "A year?"

He nodded, explaining further. "Since the trial will be in the second phase, unlike the most recent one that was in the fourth, they'll be testing for responses and effects of treatment. That means the treatment groups will be randomized."

Despite Seokjin's complete silence I could see he was deep in thought, a hand curled around his jaw and elbow resting on the armchair.

"What do you mean by randomized?" I asked though I already knew. The knowledge from my required statistics courses during college was suddenly at the forefront of my mind. I understood completely despite my immediate curiosity, that Seokjin could either be placed in the experimental or control group. Before Dr. Ahn could answer my first inquiry, I was at him with another. "How can we make sure he gets the treatment?"

They were both shaking their heads, expressions solemn as they shared that there was nothing we could do. No amount of influence or money would ensure Seokjin wouldn't receive a standard treatment, one that he'd already tried without success.

There were fifty more questions I could have asked, considering that in a year, things could look drastically different for Seokjin. He could be worse. He could be–

"It's a year away." Seokjin repeated the fact, his voice diminishing to a near whisper.

Dr. Ahn nodded. "It is, but if you'd like to participate we may be able to come up with a treatment plan for the next year. Something to keep you stable until it's time for the trial to begin."

"Perfect." I sighed with relief, the feeling only lasting a second before being trampled by Dr. Ahn's follow up.

"Seokjin?" He spoke his name in a question, without a follow up as if Seokjin would understand his true query.

He took a pause that felt neverending, stammering under the pressure of our eyes on him. "I don't know." He confessed.

"So you don't want to do the trial? You want to give up?" I didn't mean for my response to come as an accusation, his reply rightfully sharp.

"That's not what I said." He bit back, seeming exasperated as he made a request of me. "Seline, I'll do whatever you want. Just tell me what to do."

Outside of the days he didn't feel well he was always bright, but there was desolation in his appeal. He didn't want this, seemingly afraid to admit it in front of me. I couldn't carry the weight of that decision. Ensuring that he enrolled in the trial would be a selfish decision, inconsiderate, but the mere thought of telling him not to felt even more awful.

"You can't ask me to do that." I refused, not explaining further. Dr. Ahn had already witnessed enough of my rapid disdain toward every new piece of information I discovered. Now, after Seokjin's admission, I returned to the same broken tone I carried at the initial report of his results. "Seokjin?" I spoke his name with the same questioning as Dr. Ahn, though I knew it held more weight coming from me.

There was confirmation in the time it took for him to reply. Still, he muttered the same unknowing stance, shattering me with three words.

The muscles in my throat tensed to create the feeling of a lump lodged in my windpipe. I could look nowhere but at the way my hands fit together in my lap, concealing the tear that slipped from my eye. It was just one but I knew it didn't go unnoticed.

Seokjin spoke again to conclude our meeting. "Can we take some time to talk?" He requested, standing and reaching for Dr. Ahn's hand to shake.

"Of course," Dr. Ahn seemed to agree with the idea of taking time before making any decision, "you know how to reach me if you have any questions."

I zoned out as we said our goodbyes. It was automatic, the way Seokjin's hand reached for mine on our walk to the parking lot. Neither of us had words.

We were surrounded by silence the entire ride to our house, my phone buzzing a couple of times with messages that I guessed were from Faye. I knew she'd call if there was a true emergency, her updates ignored for now.

I was sloppy about the way I kicked my shoes off behind the door, hanging my bag to dangle off the edge of a hook to scurry toward the kitchen.

My hands were wrapped around an unopened bottle of 1971 Petrus before Seokjin could even step into the room. I listened to him sigh behind me, his hands grasping the bottle and chalice I'd slid closer before I could pour.

"Say something." He appealed to me, releasing the glass when I faced him.

Looking at him felt more impossible than ever but with him standing in front of me it was unavoidable. Even the sight of the loose way his sweatshirt fell to cover his waist, sized up to accommodate his shoulders was unbearable.

"I shouldn't." I breathed deeply in an attempt to conceal my distress.

"Please," Seokjin's voice cracked, "tell me what you want me to do."

He'd asked the same of me before and I think the second flared my anger toward him even more. Without Dr. Ahn eyeing us from across his oak desk, I spoke freer.

"Are you serious?" I scoffed. "You already know what I want and you've made it impossible for me to say it."

"Just tell me to do the trial and I'll do it." He pressed on. I wasn't aware enough at the moment to notice the opposing energies we carried. He was almost somber. It should have softened me toward him but I couldn't get past the feeling that trumped it all for me.

My ire poured from every pore, so much so that I stepped away from him. "Stop," I exclaimed, surprised at how loudly I spoke, "you don't get to put this on me, make me the asswipe who forces you into treatment. How about you just tell me that you don't want to live?"

The accusation broke through his composure. "You don't know shit." He snapped.

"Exactly," I shouted back at him, "because you won't tell me anything. What am I supposed to think when you don't even seem interested in the trial? When you stand there putting your life in my hands when it's obvious you don't want this?" I spoke completely unfiltered.

Stuck in a narrow view of our conflict, I only saw his response as more obstination. "I'm not going to fight with you Seline." He was firm but back to his calm demeanor.

"Of course you won't." I threw my hands out in defeat. "See, I shouldn't have said anything. I can't do this."

If he trailed behind me when I turned to walk away I was unaware, backing down and retreating to our bedroom without checking to see if he followed.

I tried to ignore the mirrors placed against nearly every wall but Seokjin always loved reflections. No matter where I walked or sat I could see myself, red rimmed eyes and a clenched jaw meeting me at every turn. My hair was disheveled from where I unconsciously tugged pieces away from their kept place out of frustration.

There was noise from the kitchen, Seokjin's muffled voice trapped between the clanging of pots and pans. I was too late to answer Faye's call, my phone vibrating in my pocket and displaying the missed call after a failed attempt to swipe on the last ring.

It only rang once when I dialed back. I spoke before giving time for a greeting, my voice still thick with emotion. "Is dad okay?"

"He's fine. He's on the phone with Seokjin." The heavy breath she released was an acknowledgement that his outcome wasn't one we hoped for.

"I don't know what's happening." I admitted. The two sounds that followed were a contradiction to one another. First, a chuckle, at the irony that my statement began with the words I'd been so ill hearing from Seokjin. The second was difficult to describe, a sort of cry only few ever witnessed, a high-pitched whine like that of a troubled child.

Faye was never someone who had to search for the right words. Whether for encouragement or comfort she seemed to always get it right. The two she gave now weren't meant to fix or dismiss. Knowing that I was too deep in a pit of despair and that I wasn't ready to get out, she stayed with me.

"I'm here."

It wasn't until a blended aroma that was somehow spicy, yeasty, and sweet reached the bedroom that I ended our call. I crept to the front of the house again, sure that even if I made more noise with my entrance, Seokjin wouldn't have heard me.

He started cooking too quickly to think of putting on an apron, his sweater coated in the same flour he dipped battered chicken in. The deep fryer on the counter bubbled with oil as he dropped in a basket full of meat, moving on to turn off the mixer that kneaded dough next to him. There was a bowl of potatoes soaking by the sink, vegetables on the other side waiting to be washed.

I couldn't make out the disjointed words he muttered to himself. Even when he turned to the sink, rinsing potatoes and beginning to slice the peel he didn't notice me.

"Seokjin." I moved closer, putting a hand on his arm.

He blinked as if he'd been stuck in a trance, continuing to focus on cooking as he addressed me. "Are you leaving?"

"Dad's doing fine so no." I confirmed, not realizing until the next that I'd misinterpreted the first.

"Are you leaving me?" Where his question would have been filled with suffering he was monotonous, nearly blank as if he'd already accepted that I'd walk away.

I grabbed the skinned potato and knife from his hands, letting them both fall into the bowl in the sink to completely remove his attention from food. His hands were wet but I held onto them anyway, standing on the tips of my toes so that my nose was just at his chin.

We tilted our heads to see each other, his angled for me to kiss him after I spoke an oath to him.

"No, never."

My clothes were dampened by his hands leaving mine to graze down the back of my thighs, two handprints left behind as he lifted me to sit on the countertop. Our hold on each other became more important than our mouths, lips barely brushing together as we attended to arms, mine curled up his back and his completely engulfing me as if he'd been afraid I was the one who'd disappear.

We cried together, until chicken burned in the fryer and the dough had unintentionally rested long enough to expand another half size. It was one of the few times we didn't care about food waste, its purpose served in giving him a momentary place to put his worry in the midst of our upset.

I kissed every part of his face where tears had fallen, mixed against his cheeks with mine. The mess in the kitchen was left abandoned as we opted for the couch. He directed his body to face me, making sure I was close and tugging one of my legs so that it draped across his.

He took a while to finally open up. It helped that I'd calmed down enough to hear him without becoming defensive, patient as he continued clinging to me. We found comfort in touch, my hand reaching for the one of his that wasn't blanketing my thigh.

"This was supposed to be my last round of treatment." He disclosed. I fought against the urge to speak up immediately, to affirm that I wanted it to be the last too. "I told Dr. Ahn if this didn't work, I was done."

My hand tightened, diverting his sight to where my fingers were entwined with his.

"Before you, well before your dad, I'd basically given up. I didn't even want this round at first. My mom had to convince me to participate in the trial. I was all alone here before I met him. You know I love hearing his stories. He's had everything I've ever wanted, things I couldn't ever imagine for myself." He readjusted so that he faced me fully, keeping eye contact during his next declaration. "You've got no idea how bad I want to live, Seline. Every time I'm in that room, getting my results, I'm in this dilemma of whether to keep fighting for the slim possibility that I'll get a longer life or just stop and actually live." I watched the way his chest deflated with a relieved exhale, as if hiding this part of himself held a mighty weight.

"Maybe–"

I started and quickly halted my reaction, craving more than anything to ensure him that his health would remain stable, that the trial he was offered would work, that he'd get better. It was my greatest desire, but it couldn't be promised to either of us.

"I'm tired baby." He professed. I knew the statement didn't apply to this single moment, that he was tired of the unremarkable image he had of his life now.

The gentle back and forth of his thumb over my knuckles calmed the tremble in my hand. The other moved over my hips to my waist to draw me nearer. He wasn't waiting for me to make a decision anymore and after hearing him out I was sure he'd made the choice for himself.

He captured my lips before speaking again, taking his time as if it held the most impact in solidifying his decision. "Listen, we'll make it work. I'll do anything for us."