The ride to Dolly's Ice Cream Parlor was quick, Persephone's engine cutting through the quiet suburban streets.
As always, I held tight to Rafael's waist, allowing myself the simple pleasure of being close to him. Every experience now felt more vivid, more precious, the wind in my hair, the vibration of the motorcycle beneath us, the solid warmth of Rafael's body against mine.
At Dolly's, we ordered our usuals, Rocky Road for him, vanilla with caramel for me and sat at one of the outdoor tables, comparing our tattoos in the warm glow of the parlor's string lights.
"Does yours hurt?" I asked, noticing him rubbing the protective film.
"Itches more than hurts," he admitted. "Yours?"
"Same." I licked my ice cream, considering my next words carefully. "Thanks for doing this with me. I know it wasn't part of your plan."
Rafael shrugged, that casual gesture he used whenever something mattered more than he wanted to admit. "Plans change. Besides," he added with a half-smile, "now we match."
The simple statement nearly undid me. We match. Like we were meant to complement each other, to exist as a pair. Shade and Sunny, darkness and light.
" I should get you home." he said eventually, noticing me trying to suppress a yawn. "Don't want to risk May's wrath."
"Too late for that," I muttered, remembering the midnight swim discovery.
We rode back to my house in comfortable silence, the night air cooling around us. When we pulled up half a block away as usual, I reluctantly climbed off Persephone, already missing the closeness.
"Thanks for tonight," I said, handing him back the spare helmet.
"For watching you get stabbed with needles? Anytime," he replied, but his smirk couldn't hide the softness in his eyes. "Sleep well, Sunny."
"You too, Shade." I backed away, watching him roar off into the night before turning toward home.
The house was quiet when I entered, most lights already off. I assumed May had gone to bed, but as I crept up the stairs, her voice called from the darkened living room.
"How was your evening?" she asked, switching on a lamp to reveal herself curled in the armchair with a book.
"Fine," I said cautiously, keeping my left arm behind my back. "Just hung out with Raf."
May closed her book, fixing me with a knowing look. "At the tattoo parlor?"
I froze. "How did you— "
"Mrs. Delgado saw you two going in. Called to ask if I knew my sister was 'getting inked.'" She set her book aside. "Let me see it."
Busted....
I slowly extended my wrist, revealing the plastic-covered constellation.
May examined it with a mixture of resignation and curiosity. "Stars?"
"Cygnus," I explained. "The swan constellation."
Something flickered in her eyes, recognition, perhaps. She'd helped me with that mythology paper Rafael had mentioned. She knew the symbolism.
"Sam," she said quietly. "I understand wanting experiences, but permanent alterations to your body? With your condition—"
"It's just a small tattoo," I interrupted. "I was careful. The place was clean. I took all my medications. I'm fine."
May sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Did Rafael get one too?"
I nodded, feeling defensive of him. "It was his idea. Not mine."
"Of course it was," she muttered. "You're both adults, technically. I can't stop you. But Sam, please think about the risks. Your immune system is compromised. Infections—"
"I know my body May," I said firmly. "I know my limitations."
"Do you?" she challenged, suddenly looking older than her twenty-four years. "Because from where I'm sitting, it seems like you're determined to push every boundary, consequences be damned."
The accusation stung because it contained a kernel of truth. I was pushing boundaries, but not out of recklessness.
Out of necessity.
Out of the desperate need to live fully in the time I had left.
"I just want to experience things," I said softly. "Normal things. While I can."
May's expression crumpled slightly, anger giving way to the sadness that was never far beneath the surface these days. "I know," she whispered. "I just... I need you to be careful, Sam. You're all I have left."
Guilt twisted in my stomach. "I am being careful. I promise."
She studied me for a long moment, then nodded, seemingly too tired to argue further. "Your new antibiotics are on your nightstand. Don't forget the evening breathing treatment."
"I won't," I promised, heading upstairs with a mixture of relief and lingering guilt.
In the privacy of my room, I gently washed my tattoo according to Kev's instructions, admiring the simple black lines against my skin. Cygnus the swan, singing its most beautiful song as death approached. My own private reminder of both mortality and beauty.
As I set up my nebulizer for the evening treatment, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, cheeks slightly more hollow than they'd been a year ago, dark circles beneath eyes that looked older than eighteen.
The tattoo on my wrist seemed to emphasize my fragility, a permanent mark on an impermanent body.
But when I thought of Rafael's matching sun, of how our tattoos lined up when we pressed our wrists together, I felt a warmth that transcended physical weakness.
Maybe I couldn't leave him with forever, but I could leave him with this, with shared experiences, with tangible memories, with a small black sun that would remind him of me long after I was gone.
The nebulizer hummed to life, filling my lungs with medicated mist. As I breathed it in, I ran my fingers over my constellation and allowed myself, just for a moment, to imagine a different future, one where Rafael and I had all the time in the world to discover what we could be to each other.
A beautiful fantasy, as fleeting as a swan song.