The past week had been a struggle, both personally and professionally, seeing as how the line between the two had become very blurry.

I told Ziggy about the warning I received, not that he hadn't already guessed. He made sure to keep his distance in order to protect me, but we got to the point of calling or texting one another rather than having our NSFW conversations in person. We were close and there was no coming back from that. I was determined for our friendship to override any other confusing feelings we had in the past. Sadly, I wasn't sure he wanted the same.

The confusion was less of a priority. Few days were the hardest Ziggy had faced. He spent most of his day in a mix of mental and physical pain, but Dr. Smith gave him the green light for surgery. It was what we had been working toward, but now that it was here, it felt scarier than before.

Having too much empathy for him, I was scared right along with him. Deep down, I knew he would make it through, but that knowing there was always a chance he wouldn't . . . I wasn't prepared for that.

I stood in the eerie quiet of my kitchen, trying to piece something together for dinner. Times like this made me miss Rebecca. Even though we hadn't talked since the night of her party, I knew she would come around eventually. With or without the fight hanging over me, I still hadn't gotten used to the silence.

I unlocked my phone and opened Spotify. I followed Ziggy so I could steal his playlists, and now they were all I listened to. I turned on his Evening Chill playlist and instantly relax to the downbeats and soothing vocals. I sat my phone on the counter next to me and sway to the music as I chop, mix, and stir.

"Baby, baby stay, here. I need some time to clear my mind," I sing along with Quinn XII and Illenium. "We both know it's a problem when you call me all the time."

Just as I was getting into my best dance moves, the music faded and my phone started to ring. I dried my hands and looked over to see Ziggy's name on my screen.

"Hey, Ziggy!"

"Hey, Sabs." He sounded down.

"What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"For the most part, I guess." There was a pause, but I gave him time to respond. "I . . . I wanted to talk to you before you left today, but I guess I missed you."

"Yeah, just barely. Dr. Smith was on my back all afternoon." The truth was that I knew Ziggy was meeting with a lawyer this morning to sign a will and various consent forms for the procedure. I had been trying to keep it together so I volunteered for busy work to preoccupy myself. "Did you get everything figured out with the lawyers?"

"Yeah," he grumbled. "I literally signed my life away."

"It's just paperwork. They make people fill that shit out even if they have a boob job."

I got a small laugh from him. "I doubt that."

He hated how sad he sounded. I leaned back against my counter and imagined the look on his face. Then, I remember that I don't have to imagine it.

I push the video call button and it rings. Ziggy's face appears, and though he hides it with a smile, he is as upset as I expected.

"Wanted to see my pretty face?" he said with a smile. He was wearing his beanie again.

"Yes. But I wanted to make sure you were smiling, too," I cooed. He nodded and his mouth twisted into a frown. "Be happy, Ziggy. The day we've been working towards is finally here. Just surgery, and then you will be done with all of this."

"Maybe."

"Definitely. You know you have every chance to make it through. You will beat this."

"I have an eighty-five percent chance I will die on the table, if not directly after the surgery."

"No. The results for every patient and every doctor everywhere have been eighty-five percent up to this point. That is nothing close to a representation of your chances. You are not a statistic."

He looked close to tears but he managed another smile. "I appreciate the optimism. Truly. But I'm starting to come to terms with all this. I'm ready for surgery, I know that, but I want to go out with a bang."

"You aren't going out."

"Except I am." I scoffed. "I'm kidding. Kind of. I do have one last request though."

I twisted my mouth, wondering if I should give in. "What is it?"

They prepped Ziggy for surgery and my stomach was in knots. I knew I couldn't take part and it was killing me. When they wheeled him out, our eyes met and he stretched his hand out toward me. I ran to his side and took his hand. He squeezed it with a nervous smile.

I rode with the team on the elevator and down the hall towards the OR, Ziggy squeezing my hand the whole way. Right before we entered the room, Dr. Mathews pulled me aside. Ziggy let go of my hand with reluctance.

Once he was past the doors, the doctor turned to me to speak. "Mr. Ziegler has you listed as his health care proxy for all medical and end-of-life decisions. He also listed you as his sole beneficiary."

My mouth dropped open. "What? Are you serious?"

"You mean you didn't know about this?"

"No," I insisted. "How . . . Why would he . . ." Ziggy trusted me, he relied on me. At this point, I knew his wishes better than anyone else. If he even had anyone else. "I guess he trusts that I know what he would want."

"I would think there was a huge conflict of interest if you will benefit from his passing. However . . ." he looked less upset than I expected, "that completely contradicts the amount of support you have given him this entire time. " He rubbed a hand over his balding head. "I don't blame you for what happened. We're all human at the end of the day. If anything, the outcome of this comes down to me more than you."

"It does," I agreed. I look at him and realize he was looking to me for encouragement rather than to scold me. "I think you know that I care for him very much, so . . . Please don't fuck it up."

I saw Dr. Mathews laugh for the first time. Music started, grabbing both of our attention. I instantly recognize Our Own House by Misterwives and knew exactly what was happening.

We walked into the operating room and everyone was standing together smiling. "Mr. Ziegler had one last request of sorts," the scrub nurse explained.

"One last song," he said with a luminous smile.

Ziggy coaxes everyone to dance with him as the beat started in. They obliged with a bit of hesitance. I jumped in with the energy he deserved. I moved with the beat, dancing away all the anxiety over "one last song" implied. My body swayed to the music, my heartbeat only raced to meet the exertion of my movements, my mind filled only by the lyrics.

He sang the words to the bridge with me. We both simultaneously break into our dance moves with the chorus. "With our hands over our heart," we both mimic the words, placing our hands on our chests.

I jump around and dance, throwing my arms into the air, dancing close to him until the beat breaks down. We stomp and snap to the beat. Ziggy came closer to me, considering no one else in the room knows the song. "Take it all, take it away, we'll still have the sun dying and the love that is beating 'till our lungs stop breathin'!" As I sang the words I had sung hundreds of times before, they suddenly meant something else.

When I looked at Ziggy, he had nothing but happiness behind his smile. I took his hands with mine and we spun to the beginning of the final chorus. We tossed our heads back and belted the final lines. I opened my eyes to find our small crowd dancing right along with us. The final notes play and the song ended too soon.

Everyone cheered and clapped, smiling faces replaced the somber seriousness that had existed before. It was the same for him as well. He looked at me with eyes squinted by his laughter.

My smile stayed but the sadness nagged in my chest again.

Mr. Mathews patted Ziggy's back while wearing a wide smile. "Are you ready, Mr. Ziegler?"

"Yeah," he said breathlessly. "I am now."

But I wasn't.