The drive to the hospital was quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just heavy. Kai sat in the passenger seat, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. His phone remained pressed against his thigh, the hospital’s last message still open on the screen. Please report to the receiving facility as soon as possible. As soon as possible. Those words had followed him all the way from the pharmacy. Adrian glanced at him from behind the steering wheel. “Do you want to call your mother?” “She knows.” “Your brother?” “Kai doesn’t have a brother who can magically solve medical bills.” Adrian’s mouth tightened. “I meant Noah.” Kai looked at him. “That was a joke.” “It wasn’t funny.” “I’m aware.” Kai turned toward the window. Streetlights slid across the glass, briefly illuminating his reflection. He looked pale. Tired. Younger than he usually allowed himself to appear. Adrian noticed every detail. He wanted to reach across the space between them. He didn’t. Kai had asked him to stand beside him, not take over. So Adrian kept both hands on the wheel. After a few minutes, Kai spoke. “Are you going to ask me if I’ve eaten?” “No.” “Good.” “Have you?” Kai turned sharply. “Adrian.” “I wasn’t asking.” “You absolutely were.” A faint smile appeared on Adrian’s lips. For a moment, the pressure inside the car eased. Then Kai’s phone rang. His mother. He answered immediately. “Mom?” Her voice came through, strained and hurried. “Where are you?” “On the way to the new hospital.” “Your father is still here. The nurses said the transfer arrangements changed. They need us to sign something.” Kai straightened. “Changed how?” “I don’t know. They said the receiving hospital wants confirmation before they accept him.” Kai’s fingers went cold. “Put the nurse on the phone.” His mother spoke to someone, and a moment later, a woman’s voice came through. “Hello, Kai. There has been a slight delay with the transfer authorization.” “Why?” “We’re waiting for confirmation from the receiving facility.” “They already accepted him.” “They gave preliminary approval. The final authorization is still pending.” Kai closed his eyes. “Does that mean my father can’t be transferred?” “Not necessarily. We’re trying to resolve it.” “Trying?” His voice rose. Adrian glanced at him but said nothing. Kai stood on the edge of losing control. “My father is sick. You told us to prepare for transfer, and now you’re saying you’re still trying to resolve it?” “I understand your frustration.” “No, you don’t.” “Kai,” his mother said softly through the phone. He stopped. The nurse continued, “Please return to the hospital. We will explain everything in person.” The call ended. Kai lowered the phone. Adrian spoke carefully. “Should we turn around?” “Yes.” He made the next turn without hesitation. Kai stared at the dark road ahead. “I hate this.” Adrian didn’t ask what he meant. “I hate not knowing what is happening,” Kai continued. “I hate that people keep using words like pending and under review while my father is lying in a hospital bed. I hate that everything depends on paperwork and money.” His voice shook. “And I hate that I can’t do anything.” Adrian’s response came quietly. “You’re doing something.” “I’m sitting in a car.” “You’re going back. You’re asking questions. You’re staying with your family.” “That isn’t enough.” “Maybe not to solve everything,” Adrian said. “But it matters.” Kai turned toward him. “Don’t make it sound beautiful.” “I wasn’t.” “Because sometimes staying isn’t enough.” Adrian’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “No,” he said. “Sometimes it isn’t.” Kai looked at him, surprised by the agreement. Adrian continued, “But that doesn’t make staying meaningless.” Kai said nothing. He looked away again, but his shoulders lowered slightly. ⸻ When they returned to the hospital, the corridor was busier than before. Kai hurried toward the reception desk, with Adrian following a step behind. His mother stood near the nurses’ station, her hands clasped tightly. His father remained in the examination area, waiting for the transfer decision. “What happened?” Kai asked. His mother shook her head. “They said the receiving hospital needs a payment guarantee.” Kai let out a bitter laugh. “Of course.” The nurse approached them with a file. “We’ve contacted the receiving facility. They can accept your father, but certain preliminary costs must be confirmed.” “How much?” Kai asked. The nurse hesitated. Kai’s stomach sank. “How much?” She gave him the figure. It was more than he had in his account. More than his parents could gather that night. His mother covered her mouth. Kai stared at the file. For a few seconds, the hospital seemed to become completely silent. Then Adrian stepped forward. “I can provide the guarantee.” Kai turned toward him. “No.” The word was immediate. Adrian stopped. Kai’s eyes were bright with panic and anger. “No. Not like this.” “Kai—” “You said you wouldn’t take control.” “I said I would help where you asked.” “And I’m not asking you to pay.” Adrian looked at him steadily. “I know.” “Then don’t.” The nurse shifted awkwardly beside them. Kai noticed and lowered his voice, though his hands were shaking. “Please don’t do this here.” Adrian’s expression changed. Not anger. Understanding. He stepped back. “All right.” Kai blinked. He had expected an argument. A demand. Something that would force him to defend himself further. Instead, Adrian turned toward the nurse. “Please explain every available option to the family. We won’t make a decision until they understand the terms.” The nurse nodded and began explaining the payment arrangement. Kai listened carefully, asking questions about deposits, treatment coverage, and whether the hospital could delay the initial payment until the assistance application was reviewed. Adrian remained silent. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer his credit card. He simply stood beside Kai. When the nurse left, Kai leaned against the wall. His mother looked between them. “Could you excuse us for a moment?” she asked Adrian. Kai’s head lifted. “Mom—” “Just for a moment.” Adrian nodded and moved a short distance away. His mother turned toward Kai. “You don’t have to refuse every kind of help.” Kai’s jaw tightened. “I know.” “Do you?” He looked down. She touched his arm. “Your father would never want you to destroy yourself trying to prove you can carry everything.” “I’m not trying to prove anything.” “You are.” Kai’s eyes stung. His mother spoke gently. “Your father and I are proud of you. But being responsible doesn’t mean you must suffer quietly.” Kai looked toward Adrian. The man stood near the window, speaking to no one, his hands in his pockets. He had the ability to end the immediate financial problem. Kai knew that. And perhaps that was why accepting anything from him frightened him so much. Because once Adrian stepped into the problem, Kai wasn’t sure where his own responsibility ended. Or where Adrian’s began. ⸻ At eleven thirty, the hospital finally confirmed the transfer. The receiving facility agreed to accept Kai’s father under a temporary payment arrangement. The initial deposit could be postponed until the financial assistance office completed its review. It wasn’t a permanent solution. But it was enough to move forward. Kai signed the documents with a hand that still trembled. When he finished, he placed the pen down. His mother exhaled in relief. His father, exhausted but conscious, looked at him from the bed. “You look like you’ve aged ten years,” he murmured. Kai gave him a tired glare. “And you look like you’re enjoying this.” “Enjoying what?” “Making everyone worry.” His father smiled faintly. “Then you came by it honestly.” Kai lowered his head, and a quiet laugh escaped him. The transfer arrangements took another hour. By the time the ambulance arrived, Kai could barely keep his eyes open. Adrian approached him near the entrance. “Have you decided how you’re getting to the receiving hospital?” “My mother is going with my father. I’ll follow.” “Follow how?” “By bus.” Adrian looked at him. Kai pointed a warning finger at him. “Don’t.” “I haven’t said anything.” “Your face did.” Adrian glanced toward the parking area. “I’m driving you.” Kai opened his mouth. “Not because you can’t take the bus,” Adrian added. “Because it’s midnight, you’re exhausted, and I am already here.” Kai hesitated. It was irritating how carefully Adrian had learned to phrase things. “Fine,” he said. Adrian nodded. “Thank you.” Kai frowned. “Why are you thanking me?” “For letting me drive you.” “That was not a favor. You were already standing here.” “Then thank you for allowing me to stand here.” Kai stared at him. “You’re impossible.” “I’ve been told.” ⸻ The receiving hospital was brighter and colder. Kai’s father was taken inside while the family completed the remaining registration forms. His mother followed the nurses, leaving Kai and Adrian alone in the waiting area. Kai sat down. Adrian took the chair beside him. For nearly ten minutes, neither spoke. Then Kai said, “You didn’t pay.” Adrian looked at him. “No.” “You could have.” “Yes.” Kai rubbed his face. “Was it difficult?” “What?” “Not doing it.” Adrian considered the question. “Yes.” Kai turned toward him. Adrian’s gaze remained fixed on the hospital doors. “I wanted to remove the problem immediately,” he said. “I wanted to make one call and ensure your father received everything he needed.” “Why didn’t you?” “Because you told me not to.” Kai looked down at his hands. Adrian continued, “And because I realized that helping you without listening would only make you feel trapped.” Kai’s throat tightened. “I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you.” “I don’t.” “I do trust you.” Adrian finally looked at him. Kai forced himself to continue. “I just don’t trust what happens when I need someone too much.” Adrian remained quiet. Kai laughed softly, without humor. “When I was younger, I learned that needing things made people disappointed. Money. Time. Attention. Everything had a limit. So I stopped asking.” Adrian’s expression softened. “And now?” “Now you keep telling me to ask.” “Yes.” “It’s annoying.” “I know.” Kai looked at him. “I’m trying.” Adrian’s voice was low. “I know.” The simplicity of the answer hurt more than any reassurance could have. Kai lowered his gaze. “I’m scared that if I keep asking, one day you’ll get tired.” Adrian didn’t answer immediately. Then he said, “You may ask me for things I can’t give.” Kai looked up. “You may be disappointed in me. I may disappoint you. We may misunderstand each other.” His voice remained steady. “But you don’t have to become smaller to make me stay.” Kai’s breath caught. Adrian reached toward him, then paused. Kai noticed. After a moment, Kai closed the distance himself and placed his hand in Adrian’s. Their fingers intertwined. “I lost half my hours at the pharmacy,” Kai said. Adrian nodded. “I know.” “I need to appeal it tomorrow.” “I can help you prepare the appeal.” “Not submit it.” “Understood.” “And I need to talk to my professors about the classes I missed.” “I can—” Kai gave him a look. Adrian corrected himself. “You can talk to them.” “Better.” A faint smile appeared between them. Then Kai’s phone rang. It was Ethan. Kai answered. “Hello?” “Are you alive?” Ethan demanded. “Because if you died without giving me your notes, I will be personally offended.” Kai closed his eyes. “I’m alive.” “Good. Your father?” “Transferred. We’re waiting for the next update.” Ethan’s voice softened. “Do you need me to come?” Kai looked at Adrian. Then at the hospital doors. “I don’t know.” “That’s not a no.” Kai swallowed. “Can you send me the lecture notes?” “Already did.” “And maybe help me speak to Professor Miller tomorrow?” “Already planned to.” Kai’s eyes lowered. “Thanks.” Ethan went silent for a second. Then he said, “Did you just thank me without insulting me?” “Don’t get used to it.” “Too late. I’m saving the moment forever.” Kai hung up. Adrian glanced at him. “You’re learning.” Kai leaned his head against the wall. “Don’t sound so proud.” “I am.” Kai looked at him. The exhaustion finally caught up with him, pulling heavily at his eyelids. Adrian noticed. “Sleep.” “I can’t.” “You can.” “My father is in there.” “And your mother is with him. The doctors are working. You have done everything you can tonight.” Kai wanted to argue. Instead, he leaned sideways. His head came to rest against Adrian’s shoulder. Adrian went completely still. Kai closed his eyes. “Don’t move,” he murmured. “I won’t.” “And don’t misunderstand this.” “I wouldn’t dare.” Kai’s lips curved faintly. Within minutes, his breathing slowed. Adrian looked down at him. He could still feel the weight of the decisions waiting for them—the company, the hospital, the uncertain days ahead. Nothing had become easy. Nothing had been solved permanently. But Kai was no longer trying to stand alone in every moment. And Adrian was learning that love was not measured by how much he could take away. Sometimes it was measured by how carefully he held what the other person chose to give. His phone vibrated. A message from Marcus. Marcus: The board meeting has been moved to eight a.m. They require your presence. Adrian looked at the sleeping figure against his shoulder. Then he typed: Adrian: Reschedule it. A reply came almost immediately. Marcus: They won’t be pleased. Adrian glanced at Kai. Adrian: They don’t have to be. He put the phone away. For the first time, Adrian understood that choosing Kai did not mean abandoning everything else. It meant refusing to let everything else decide what Kai was worth. And tonight, he chose to stay.

The Price of Asking