"Wh… what did you just say? My existence will fade away?" Andrew stammered, his voice trembling as his knees buckled slightly. His face turned pale, and beads of sweat streamed down his forehead, his body rigid with disbelief.
"I know it's shocking," Dr. Aaron said, his voice gentle yet steady, his eyes filled with quiet seriousness. "No matter how hard you try to run from your fated connection, it's already formed. The best thing you can do now is avoiding intimacy with others—that's the only way to protect yourself until your partner wakes up. In the meantime, visiting her, talking to her… it might help the bond stabilize."
As he scribbled something down on a prescription pad, he added, "This medication will help ease the pain if it comes again, but it's only a temporary solution. Please… avoid intimacy. We don't know how much time you have if you keep ignoring the thread." He handed Andrew the slip with a small, reassuring smile.
Andrew took it with a shaky hand, his legs nearly giving out as he stood. "Okay, Doc. I'll get the meds on my way," he said, his voice barely audible, wavering under the weight of his fear.
---
Back in the car, Andrew sat in silence, the world outside blurring into streaks of meaningless color. The silence buzzed in his ears like static.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He slammed his forehead repeatedly against the steering wheel, the sound of bone meeting leather echoing in the confined space. A sharp pain sliced across his brow, and a small cut opened, blood trickling slowly.
"Why, why, why?!" he screamed, his voice raw and breaking. "Can't my life just be normal for once?! Not only did I get a partner I never wanted, but I'll lose my life trying to love the person I actually want?! What kind of cruel joke is this?" His fists clenched, shaking against the wheel.
His shoulders trembled, his body wracked with sobs. "Am I cursed or what? I'm definitely cursed!" he choked out, covering his face with both hands. "Why can't my life just be peaceful for once? Fate, please, I've had enough!"
The drive to Hill Crest Hospital was suffocating. The air in the car felt heavy, every breath labored, every movement sluggish.
---
"Hello, I'm Andrew Sebastian. I was admitted here two weeks ago after an accident; I came for my check-up," Andrew said to the nurse at the reception, his tone dull.
The doctor reviewed his chart and nodded. "Your injury is mostly healed now. Just don't lift anything heavy with your left hand."
"Okay," Andrew murmured, eyes distant.
But his real reason for coming wasn't the injury. It was her. His fated one.
He stared at the faint, glowing thread floating ahead of him—a presence he hadn't seen in two weeks. It shimmered with a reddish-gold hue, silently guiding him. His face remained blank, too drained to question it anymore.
Quietly, he followed the thread through the corridors until he stopped at her door. The sterile hospital scent stung his nose. The silence behind the door felt ominous.
Taking a deep breath, he opened it.
Beep! Beep!
The soft rhythmic sound of the monitor filled the room. There she was—Sophia—lying still, serene, like a figure sculpted from porcelain. Her features were soft, yet there was a quiet strength in her sleeping face.
Andrew stepped forward, each step heavy. He reached out to touch her face, fingers trembling.
Nothing. No twitch, no flutter of an eyelid.
"Do I need to force myself to love you?" he whispered, pulling his hand back slowly. "I don't even know anything about you. Will you even want me when you wake up? Or will I already be dead before that happens?"
The reddish-golden thread shimmered more brightly now, glowing around his chest. He watched it swirl and pulse, then followed it to where it wrapped around Sophia's heart. He reached out to touch it—but it passed through his fingers like smoke.
With a deep, weary sigh, he turned and left the room.
Unseen, behind him, Sophia's fingers twitched.
--
As soon as Andrew returned home, he made a beeline for the fridge, yanked it open, and grabbed eight cans of beer. He collapsed onto the floor in the living room, popping open the first can with shaky fingers.
One by one, he drained them.
His phone buzzed. A call from Charles.
It rang twice. He didn't answer. He just stared at the screen until it went black.
A few seconds later, a series of texts followed:
How are you feeling?
What did the doctor say?
I called because I wanted to hear your voice, Andrew. I'm really worried.
Good night.
He didn't open them.
Beep beep.
The door creaked open.
Chase stepped inside. The apartment was dim, eerily quiet. His eyes darted around until he spotted Andrew sprawled out on the floor, empty cans surrounding him like fallen sentinels.
"Andy! What the hell? Why are you drinking so much? This isn't like you!" Chase exclaimed, rushing over. He picked up a half-finished can and set it on the table. "You know you can't even handle one drink—how did you get through all of these?"
He tapped Andrew's shoulder gently. "Andy, wake up."
Andrew stirred, his eyes glassy. "Chase… if I were to die someday, would you be sad?" he slurred.
Chase froze, heart skipping. "What are you saying, Andrew?" he whispered. "Don't talk like that. I'll never let you die."
Andrew's head lolled to the side. "I can't get intimate with anyone anymore… because I'll die. The doctor said, My life force is draining… the thread…"
Chase stared, stunned. "What do you mean 'anymore'? You've never even kissed anyone before!"
Andrew's lips curved in a wobbly smile. "Oh, I didn't tell you—I kissed Charles!" he declared with drunken pride.
"You what?" Chase felt like the ground had been pulled from under him.
"I kissssss Charles!" Andrew repeated, dragging out the words.
Silence fell.
Chase helped Andrew to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."
As they reached the bedroom, Andrew began to sing off-key, "Andrew kissing in a tree… K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"
Chase sighed, breathless. "You're too heavy, man."
They collapsed onto the bed.
Andrew, in a daze, suddenly leaned in and kissed Chase.
Chase froze.
His heart thundered in his chest. His face turned red as Andrew pulled away, clutching his chest in sudden pain, twisting and twitching in agony.
"I wanted to kiss you one last time, Charles…" Andrew mumbled as he slipped into unconsciousness.
Chase sat beside him, stunned.
He reached out and touched Andrew's chest gently. "Was this… the pain you spoke about?"
A lump formed in his throat. "I love you, Andy. Since middle school. Eleven years. But I never told you… I didn't want to ruin what we had. I didn't think I'd have the chance to be anything more."
His voice faltered. "Watching you give your heart to a guy you met last week… hurts more than anything."
Chase lowered his head.
Chase thought confessing to someone who couldn't even hear him… felt like the cruelest kind of cowardice.
"But seeing you in pain hurts more, Andy. I will definitely find ways to make the pain stop and ways to break this fate that's hurting you. Even if we don't end up together, I'm willing to do anything for you."
He stood, brushing a hand through Andrew's hair gently, as if committing the moment to memory.
"Good night, Andy," he whispered, turning off the light and quietly closing the door behind him.