You knew something was wrong. It wasn’t just the coughing anymore—it was the way your chest rattled at night like something was breaking loose inside you, the way your vision blurred when you stood too fast, the way your hands shook when you tried to hold onto anything warm. You hadn’t told Jacob. You couldn’t. Not here. Not in this city that chewed kids like you up and spit out the bones.

New York wasn’t a place anymore. It was a warning. Smoke filled your lungs like air never existed. Fires burned without reason. Water came in bottles with blood still drying on the caps. People stared too long, talked too little, and moved fast if they wanted to live.

But somehow… somehow Jacob still smiled like he hadn’t given up. And that made it harder.

Because you knew.

This was the beginning of your end.

And he had no idea.

---

You and Jacob lived in a back alley. It wasn't comfortable, and the smoke hung in alleyways like a thick cloth, but at least you weren't cold. It was terrible for your lungs of course, but you needed somewhere.

You woke up first, like usual. Then, Jacob woke up as you were trying to filter out rain water from last week. It wasn't working.

"...any progress?"