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***Sebastian Royals POV***

"Goodbye to you, Mark Fletcher." I whisper. "I could have loved you so fucking hard."

As I quickly get in the cab, I make sure not to look back. Nothing can change what is happening. Our paths crossed at the wrong time. Even though it felt so right.

I meet my PR people and agent at the private tarmac of the airport. Slowly, I climb out of the cab. I gather my bags feeling heavier than I did before. My feet trudge up the stairs of the jet.

I speak quickly, to get caught up, with my manager. I review the paper work, sign the chosen contracts and reject the ones I'm uninterested in.

I didn't lie to Mark. I don't know much about the next year of my life. My career has to take a pause.

The last two months, before my visit to Manhattan, I underwent ATRA treatments to force my Acute Promyelocitic Leukemia (APL) into remission. I was subjected to bone marrow biopsies, blood tests, scans and numerous prescriptions. A multitude of perpetration ensued so we could move from the induction stage of my treatment to the consolidation stage.

The doctors in Italy want to administer ATRA plus chemo (with an anthracycline such as idarubicin). The treatment regimen has seen good results in European field studies. They offer my best chances of a cure. I agreed, hoping to save myself. I at least want to buy me some time.

Maybe the gods will have mercy on me. If I can't stay in this body, maybe they can bring me back as a puppy. I will gladly wander on to Mark's doorstep as a stray. Sitting in his lap in any form would be better than nothing.

My eyes sweat as I picture the beautiful man that I left behind. God, what a fucking treasure. Everything about Mark is perfect for me. I have never felt the way I had when he was wrapped in my arms. The rhythm of his heart beat had quickly become my favorite song.

I rub my fists into my eyes, acting as if sleep was the issue. The truth is, I had not slept so well since I took this career on. But, with Mark, sleep found me. It sang sweet lullabies to me.

I slip my ear buds in putting on my playlist. I need something to distract me. His scent permeates on my skin. His eyes dance in my head like a heavenly vision. The echo of his voice resonates throughout my mind.

Fuck!

He had me at first glance.

Why?

Why is this the hand I was dealt? I'm not ready. I don't care about losing my hair. I don't care about the muscle mass that the toxic medicine threatens to deteriorate. I could deal with the physical pain.

But, this. This ache in my heart. The feeling of someone squeezing my chest. I don't want to handle this. I don't want to do this alone. I want Mark.

I would never say that out loud.

This isn't about masculinity. It's not about pride. This is about heaving a burden on someone that could easily have been my everything. No one deserves to watch someone struggle. I couldn't even do that to my family. How could I put it on someone I just met? Someone that I would have fell so damn fast for doesn't deserve my baggage.

I can't. I wouldn't. I didn't.

I lay my head back against my seat and close my eyes. I think of what will come over the next couple months. I go thru a checklist, I mentally made, of legal documents. I have signed everything. All things are a go if I don't make it out of this personal hell.

I used to love traveling. That's why I became a model in the first place. When your heart is left in bed with someone else, things don't appear as beautiful as they once were. That's the issue, Mark's beauty outshines the glamour of Italy, Paris and even the stars themselves.

Touching something so incredible spoils the rest.

Mark could give the sunset a run for its money.

I should have made love to him. I knew that would be my breaking point. I wanted to. I wanted so damn bad to feel connected to him on that level of intimacy. But, I refrained. I had to keep as much distance as possible available. It's so hard to say goodbye. I didn't need anymore fuel to the fire raging in my soul.

The jet sets down in the heart of Italy. I unbuckle my safety belt. Begrudgingly, I grab my carry on. I slide my phone in my pocket. My earbuds get tucked inside of my bag. I shove one hand in my pocket. My fingers tightly hold the strap of my bag. I sigh as I take the short steps off the aircraft.

The evening greets me. The lights from the city twinkle under the moonlit sky. It's beautiful. It's just not the same as standing on a Manhattan balcony with a piece of perfection in between your arms.

Shaking my thoughts, I answer my manager as he explains the driver will be bringing me to the cancer center. I get my first treatment tonight. Lucky me.

Nodding my head in acceptance, I follow behind him as we walk towards the SUV. I hand my bags over to the driver. With exhaustion in my every step, I slip into the back seat. I rest my head on the window. I stare out as the evening stars pass by in a blur.

I feel the loss so fucking deep.

The trip takes little time. I sign in as the nurse explains the next eight hours. I listen and nod at her words. I'm ready to get it over with.

She sits me down in an uncomfortable leather recliner. She brings me the remote to the television. Two more nurses walk around. They label bags, check off paperwork and discuss every step as they go.

I feel the pinch of the intravenous needle breaking my skin. I hear the buttons on the machine as they set the pace. My other arm throbs while they take vile after vile of blood.

I lean my head back just observing. This is life. My life.

They administer fluids, anti nausea medication, something for heartburn and finally pain meds. I silently thank the gods for the pain meds. I don't have much pain but, I watched the videos. Chemo is harsh on your organs. It almost does more damage than good. But, almost only counts in horse shoes and hand grenades.

The nurse brings me a blanket and a pillow. I pull out my book. I turn the pages to where I left off. Oh, Harry when will you and Ginni get together?

Page after page is flipped as the hours trickle by. I lose focus. My eyes focus on the bags of medicine. I appear to be halfway through. I scroll Facebook. I check my Instagram feed. Nothing of interest catches my attention.

I'm cold. So fucking cold. The chemo feels like ice water rushing thru my veins.

Is this what it feels like to become a vampire?

The nurses leisurely walk through, checking to see if I'm ready for food or drinks. I decline. Food is the last thing I want. I want warm arms to wrap around me. I want a head full of brown hair to tickle my chin as it's weight is rested on my chest. I want Mark.

I want masculine fingers intertwined with my own. I want the soft snores of a beautiful creature filtering through the night air. I want to smell him. I want to see him. I want to feel him, breathe him and taste him.

One weekend, he is my own personal addiction.

The nurses return. One nurse begins unhooking my stuff. They inform me that I will go into surgery now for port placement. There will be a scar. I could care less. Maybe this will save my life.

God I would love to make my way back to my family, to Mark, to Grey and to Mak.

With that mindset, I smile at the nurses. These little angels are doing their everything to give me a fighting chance. I can't wait to thank them when this is over with.

I have a stem cell donor on hold. The oncologist said, once the chemo is over and my labs are perfect, I will go into a maintenance program for the next year. If that is the case, my chances of survival are in the 90th percentile.

I love those odds.

He seems hopeful. I will follow his lead. My expertise is in smiling not treating deadly diseases.

The nurse hooks my IV up to another drip. The anesthesiologist comes in. He explains the medicine entering my system. He has me sign the consent forms as the doctor goes over the procedure for the one thousandth time. I nod and relax. I have nothing more to do but wait. I count backwards from ten. At some point, the lights go out.

"There you are!" Mark beams at me while bringing me a cup of coffee.

That one simple smile makes my heart beat like bird's wings at lift off.

I smile back at the gorgeous man before me. He runs his fingers over the facial hair that lines my jaw. He scrubs his nails against my flesh, eliciting tingles to raise goosebumps up my arms and down my legs.

He kisses me gently, delivering a warm passionate wave of emotions to my lips. He sits beside me on the balcony. His profile becomes my morning view.

I sigh in content. This is the life. What a beautiful existence.

Mark talks about his upcoming day as I soak in every word with honest interest.

His Adam's Apple bobs as he chuckles at something Mak did yesterday. I laugh right along with him. Mak is a fucking nut. I love that kid.

Mark stealthily slips his hand into mine as we drink our morning coffee. The sun rises above the city line. Manhattan, what an amazing place to call home.

My heart is so warm. Mark coming into my life was literally the best thing that had ever happened to me. His presence erased every obstacle I faced to see these glorious days. He was unknowingly my motivation to fight.

I wasn't going out like that. Fuck Cancer. I was meant to live for so much more. Mark was my more. He always will be.

I smile widely at the sounds of pattering feet hitting the cold wood floors. Our two year old son runs out of the french doors. He launches himself into my open arms. My son settles in my lap. Shortly after, our two year old daughter lands in Mark's lap.

We cuddle our twins. We nuzzle their necks, kissing their baby fat until giggles fill the air.

Mark looks at me lovingly. I feel the pull. That invisible string that brought me to him so many years ago tugs at me. The same string that still ties us together in every single possible way makes it's presence known.

Thank the fates for knowing what we needed before we knew it existed.

I lovingly kiss my son. I stand up. I pull Mark into my arms. He shifts our daughter so we can stand side by side. We watch as the morning sun makes her grand entrance into the incredible world.

The blinding glare of the sun burns my eyes. But, I refuse to turn away. This is what dreams are made of.

I open my eyes as the fluorescent white lights shine harshly into my heavy eyes. My limbs tingle, obvious side effects of the anesthesia. I smile while remembering the drug induced scene that got me thru my first procedure.

I can still feel his hand wrapped around my own. I feel the phantom traces of chubby fingers squishing my lips into a fish face. I hear the soft bell peel of our daughter's giggles.

That's my motivation. I have to get thru this so I can make that dream a reality.

With a new head space, I listen to the doctor say his goodbyes. The nurses get me out to the SUV. They give me my informational packet with contacts if any complications arise. I will see them every other day for the next 60 days. If I have a good turnout that might be the end of chemo. If not, I could be doing this for 120 days.

I nod while thanking them for taking care of me. They hand me my prescriptions as I get buckled in.

First one down. One day closer to never saying goodbye again. Goodbyes are not meant for forever. They are simply until I see you again.

I will find you again one day Mark Fletcher.

I make a promise to myself.

I will not let go.