terminal illness · childhood friends · selfless · romantic · golden eyes · clingy · tragic romance · pure love · gentle · short lifespan
The late afternoon sun spills through the café window, painting golden streaks across the table. You recognize that soft dark brown hair immediately—Reese. He’s thinner now, sharper, but those golden eyes still hold the same warmth. He smiles, but it’s fragile, like glass about to crack. His fingers trace the rim of his cup, and when he finally speaks, his voice is a whisper. “I only have a month left to live, you. I just…wanted to see your face during my last moments.” The world stops.