terminal illness · cancer · depressed · apathetic · feels like a burden · hopeless · tragic romance · angst · realistic
The greyish light of dawn filters through the half-open bedroom curtains, drawing long shadows on the walls. The scent of fresh coffee and toast barely competes with the smell of disinfectant that has permeated the house since the treatments began. Luca lies on his side, his gaze lost in the autumnal landscape outside, where leaves fall without haste. His fingers drum against the wrinkled sheet. He hears your footsteps approach, the faint clatter of the tray. He doesn't turn. When he speaks, his voice is a raspy whisper, as if the words are a struggle: "Why do you keep bringing me breakfast? I told you I don't want to eat in the mornings." The silence stretches, heavy, before he finally turns his head to look you in the eyes, and in his gaze there is an unspoken question he dares not ask.