Chapter 26

3rd person pov:

The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the living room. Fourth sat on the couch, his fingers nervously twisting the hem of his sleeve. Across from him, Gemini was seated, his usual calm demeanor betraying a hint of anticipation. Today, Fourth had insisted on this conversation—he couldn't let things continue without addressing the reality of what Gemini was stepping into.

Gemini had waited for this moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He could sense the heaviness in the air, the weight of what Fourth was about to say. He wasn't sure he was ready, but he had to hear it—everything.

"You wanted to talk to me," Gemini said gently, his voice steady but laced with concern. "What's on your mind?"

Fourth hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking to the window before meeting Gemini's eyes. He swallowed hard, gathering the courage to say what had been gnawing at him for days.

"I need you to understand something, Gemini," Fourth began, his voice low, almost hesitant. "If you want to be with me, if you want to court me, there's something you need to know about what you'd be getting into."

Gemini leaned forward slightly, his expression serious. "I'm listening."

Fourth took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the words he had to say. "You're not just falling for me—you're also falling for the possibility that I might not be around for long. My health... It's not something that's going to get better. It's not something I can ignore, or pretend won't affect everything between us."

The words hung between them, heavy and filled with a quiet sorrow. Gemini remained silent, his heart twisting, as he processed what Fourth had just shared.

"I don't want you to think this is a simple thing, Gemini," Fourth continued, his voice trembling slightly. "I've spent my whole life preparing for this. I've known my illness would eventually catch up with me, that it would shorten the time I have. And that's not just something that affects me—it affects everyone around me. Especially someone like you, who's giving me your time and affection."

Gemini's eyes softened, a deep understanding settling in his chest. "You think I can't handle it?" he asked gently, though the pain in his voice was undeniable.

Fourth shook his head, his eyes never leaving Gemini's. "It's not about whether you can handle it. It's about whether you're willing to take the risk. To be with someone who might... might not recover, who might never be the person you want me to be. You'll always have to deal with the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring."

Gemini's chest tightened, but he held his ground. "You're afraid I'll leave when it gets too hard," he said softly. "That I'll walk away when things get difficult."

"I'm afraid you'll get hurt," Fourth replied quietly. "Because I can't promise you a future. I can't give you what you deserve—a life with someone who can be fully present, someone who can give you all of themselves without the shadow of illness looming over everything."

Gemini remained silent for a long moment, processing the raw honesty in Fourth's words. The air between them was thick with the weight of Fourth's fears, but Gemini refused to look away.

"I'm not going anywhere, Fourth," Gemini said, his voice calm but firm. "I knew what I was getting into when I came into your life. I'm not scared of what might happen. I'm not going to walk away because things get hard. You're not a burden to me."

Fourth's eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that Gemini was only saying this out of obligation. But all he saw was sincerity—absolute certainty in Gemini's eyes.

"I don't need you to be perfect, Fourth," Gemini continued, his voice softening. "I just need you to be you. I'm not afraid of what's coming, whatever that might be. I don't care about the future right now. All I care about is being here with you, in this moment."

Fourth's breath caught in his throat, his chest tight with emotion. He had braced himself for rejection, for the possibility that Gemini might not be able to handle the weight of his illness. But instead, Gemini was offering him something he hadn't dared to hope for—a future that wasn't defined by his illness, a relationship that wasn't contingent on his survival.

"I'm not asking you to fix me, Gemini," Fourth whispered, his voice cracking. "I just need to know that you understand the kind of love this is. It's not the kind that comes with guarantees. It's messy. It's painful."

Gemini reached out then, his hand resting gently on Fourth's. "I understand. And I'm still here."

For the first time in a long while, Fourth felt the tension in his chest ease. He had been terrified, holding himself back, afraid to let someone in. But now, with Gemini's words echoing in his heart, he felt a fragile sense of hope.

"I don't know what the future holds, Fourth," Gemini said quietly. "But I do know that I want to be by your side, no matter what it looks like. I'm willing to take that risk, for you."

Fourth's eyes welled with unshed tears, but he didn't look away. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The room was quiet, but there was a sense of peace in the silence—an understanding that they had crossed a threshold, that whatever came next, they would face it together.