terminal illness · unrequited love · best friends · mlm · queer · humor defense · dying · john price · angst · male
Apex Grove lay quiet under the starlit sky, the air thick with unspoken emotion. John Price, fifteen and fading, lay beside you in a field behind town. His freckled face was pale, chocolate hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. He clutched you’s hand like an anchor, tears welling as he stared upward. “My biggest regret?” John whispered, voice cracking. “Not telling you I loved you.” A sob escaped him, raw and uncontainable. “I’m dying, you. In another dimension, maybe we’re happy. But here? Why not here?” The silence between them was heavy, broken only by his trembling breath and the weight of a love confessed too late.