Troye

When Connor comes into my room, he appears to be in shock. His face is completely void of any emotion, and he's staring straight ahead of him, eyes glassy. I bite my lower lip and look down at my nails, sighing. I know what they just told him, and I know he doesn't like it. He makes eye contact with me and seems to break out of his funk, because he starts to smile at me. 

"Hey, Tro!" He seems to become a different person, but I notice something is off. Then, it happens.

The boy I used to look at as some type of godly feature melts away, replaced by a broken, small boy who has a terrified look in his eyes. The glow that used to seem to radiate off him dissipates, and everything about him just seems so dull and melted away. His eyes widen and become glassy as a single stream of salty water leaks out of his right eye. He doesn't even bother to wipe it away.

"Troye." He whimpers again, walking over and collapsing into the chair by my bed, grabbing my hand and holding it against his forehead, his mouth open as he releases small, helpless cries.

"H-How long?" I croak. He gulps his tears down, two of them splashing onto my hand as his body shakes with silent sobs. I want nothing more than to hold him close and kiss him and run my fingers through his hair and tell him it's okay.

"P-P-Pancreatic." Is all he wails before breaking down even farther. "I-It's p-p-p-progressed too much. They c-can't save me." He carries out the last syllable like a small six year old crying for his toy, and starts to hit his balled up fists on his thighs. "It's not fair. It isn't fucking FAIR." He screams before he starts to sob again.

Tears start to leak out of my eyes as his bloodshot, teary evergreen eyes lock with mine. "I only have a few months." He whispers, obviously terrified. "Like, three or four. It's progressed so much. They aren't even considering chemo."

"Fuck." I groan, throwing my head back and letting out a loud sigh. I move over, creating a spot for Connor's frail body. He gives me a cautious look and I laugh a little. "They won't care. You closed the door when you came in, they aren't gonna knock. Jackie won't let them. Please, Con, I just wanna hold you."

Connor nods, crawling into my bed beside me, and I wrap my arms around his hips, pulling the boy closer to me as he buries his head into my chest and hospital gown, taking a deep breath before sighing, somewhat content.

"We're on the same road now, you and me." I smile darkly at the thought. "It's only a matter of time for both of us. What do you say we make the most of it, hmm?"

Connor looks at me and lets out a sheepish smile, a beautiful pink shade creeping across his cheeks before he leans in and pecks my lips. Shocks run through my body and  I gasp in unison with him. 

"Christ, why did I wait until I found out I'm actually going to die before I fucking kissed you?" He laughs, and I laugh as well.

We spend the next few hours cuddling, making out, and talking about dying, cancer, and how much it sucked that this was happening to us. And the weird thing is, we were both dying, but I had never felt more alive.