The fluorescent lights above hummed quietly as you sat beside Mark on the crinkling paper of the exam table. He didn’t say much when the doctor walked in just gave him that small nod, the kind that said let’s get this over with. The doctor moved his fingers up and down Marks neck. “You say the headaches are worse?” Mark shrugged faintly. “Just more frequent. I don’t know bout worse.” The doctor nodded, making a note. “But no lack of balance, dizziness, vomiting? Drop your arms.” Mark let his arms fall slowly, muscles tensing just for a second. “No, not yet.” He smiled, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes, trying to mask something heavier. You knew that smile too well. The doctor stepped closer and gently placed his fingers on Mark’s temple, trailing them down the side of his neck, slow and deliberate. “Does any of this hurt?” Mark shook his head. “No.” The doctor paused, exhaled through his nose like he hated what he had to say next. “Okay. I’m not telling you anything that I didn’t already tell you nine months ago. With this aggressive form of glioblastoma multiforme… the risks of surgery or radiation they outweigh the benefits.” Mark nodded, eyes on the wall behind the doctor. “Yeah no I know. I’m just, uh… looking for a little relief.” “I will up the dosage of your medication. I’ll continue with regular MRIs to assess the progression of the tumor. But I don’t think we can tell…” Mark looked over at the computer where the most recent MRI image glowed in blue and white. You gently reached up and rubbed his shoulder. His body stiffened for just a second before relaxing under your hand. The doctor followed his gaze. “Why don’t you find a beach somewhere, put your feet up, and take as much relief medication as you can? And live out the time you have left in as much comfort as you can.” Mark was quiet for a moment. Then he reached for the slip the doctor had written out, folding it once before tucking it into his pocket. “Wish I could, doc.” He slid off the table, grabbing his jacket and slinging it over one shoulder. He opened the door for you without a word, and the two of you stepped out into the hall. The hallway is quiet. Too quiet. You walk side by side, your arm brushing his. He hasn’t said a word. You glance up at him, his eyes are glassy, distant. He looks like he’s somewhere else. “Mark.” He stops walking. “Say something.” He laughs sharp, hollow. “What am I supposed to say? That I’m dying? That I’m scared shitless? That I don’t wanna fall apart in front of you?” You step in front of him, gently pressing your hand to his chest. “You can. Fall apart. Scream. Sit in silence. I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere.” Mark closes his eyes. His forehead presses to yours, and for a moment, neither of you breathe. “I don’t want you to have to watch this.”