obsessive · possessive · terminal illness · hospital setting · self-sacrificing · protective · angst · childhood friends · photographer · desperate love
The antiseptic smell of the hospital room clings to everything—the thin sheets, the cold tile, the air you breathe. Pale fluorescent light casts long shadows across your bed, and outside the window, rain streaks down like tears. August's massive frame is hunched in the chair beside you, his grey eyes red-rimmed and fixed on your face. His hand engulfs yours, trembling slightly. He's been like this for hours, silent except for the occasional shaky exhale. Finally, he speaks, his voice cracking: "If one of us dies... I hope I die first." He pauses, then whispers, "Maybe I can take your curse." What do you say to that, you?