“I can agree to that.” I smile back.

His hand doesn’t move from my cheek, stroking it soothingly. It’s nice, I have to admit. It almost makes me forget why I’m here, why I came all this way, why I risked this.

But even as I look at Michael, all I can think about is Blake.

“Do you need more water?” Michael asks, seeing that I’ve finished it. “Or do you want something else, something harder?”

“Probably not the best idea.”

“No…” A beat passes. “Probably not.”

He doesn’t move from his position kneeling in front of me, but slowly, he pulls back his hand. “You never answered my question.”

No, I didn’t. Is it because I don’t want to? Is it because I’m afraid that, once I do, it’ll all be real, and I can’t take it back? As I sit here in the past with Michael, I can imagine a future. No, not imagine. That future could still be a reality. A possibility we both can have, no matter how small the chance.

Once I do what I’m here to do, that door closes. But maybe, just maybe, that’s not a bad thing.

I pat the spot next to me on the couch. Slowly, Michael slides up and sits. There’s no space between us, my right leg and his left one touching. I think he needs that connection. I think, deep down, he knows something is coming. Something he’s not going to like.

Maybe that’ll make this easier.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I say slowly. “No, that’s not right. There are some things I need to tell you.”

“Well, at least you didn’t start this conversation with ‘we need to talk.’” He grins nervously.

I force a smile on my face, but I’m not sure it’s convincing. I’m not really sure of anything right now. Am I making the right choice? Am I taking the easy way out? Is there another solution?

Maybe if I had more time. Maybe if there wasn’t so much at stake, I could find another solution. I could research, I could experiment, I could do so many different things.

But, if I’ve learned one thing from all of this, it’s that I’m not a scientist. No matter how much my parents want me to be one or how good I am at science or any of those logical reasons and pieces of evidence that point to it, that’s not who I am.

And it’s time for me to stop thinking like that and to start thinking the right way, the only way I should be thinking: Andre’s way.

“I want you to know I love you, Michael,” I say. I think that’s important to start with. “I love you so much. The few days—”