The Simplest of Questions

"Why do people die?" He slides his eyes close as he waits for his answer, the breeze blowing his hair away from his face. The person beside him shifts as he ponders the question.

"We all die, Luke, sooner or later," he smiles, and sadness flickers at the edges of it.

"That's not what I meant," sighs Luke, turning to face the other. He tilts his head to one side and lets pale hair fall to one side. "Why would anyone die for another person?"

"Ah," remarks the other, "You question self-sacrifice."

"It is pointless."

"Is it?" The other, Maurice, he smiles again, a little sadder, a little more wounded.

"Yes, it is. So why do they do it?" By now Maurice is close enough that the lines of their bodies almost touch each other. Luke fidgets under the other's scrutiny. He is surprised by the lips that brush his cheek and the warm breath Maurice emits when he whispers,

"For love." It sends the tiniest shiver down his spine, and oh, he hopes Maurice doesn't notice, but fate enjoys mocking people and he does. He pulls back, and his smile is wider, less restrained, and there is laughter in his eyes. Luke turns away, not wanting to admit how much he likes it when Maurice smiles like that.

"That's a stupid reason." Maurice's smile is gentle, perhaps a little patronising.

"Is it?" Luke doesn't want to look at him. He fears that he will see that sad smile again. " If love can be a reason to live, why can it not be a reason to die?" Luke wants to turn and yell a thousand obscenities. He stops himself. "To love, and protect that love, is it not a admirable reason to die?"

"There is no such thing as love. Only delusions of it. People wither away because of those pretty, little lies."

"And yet, yet at the same time, they would wither away without them as well. Delusions that may be, but people believe in them, do they not? Because of that, they become real," Maurice's logic confuses him and suitably enrages him as well. He turns around suddenly, intent on making him realise, even if he had to pound it into him with his fists, that love simply did not exist .

" You are a fool Maurice, no one truly dies for love. Merely for the romantic notion of it!" His voice is rising, but he does not care, he simply has to convince this idiot, that... But his words falter at that smile, the one he tries to never be the cause of, but always is, just the same.

"I would die for you." Silence quickly descends, choking, and thick. He is trembling just a little, and has no answer, none at all to what Maurice has just said. At least not until he sees the despair in his eyes and it causes him pain to know that he caused it, but he doesn't know what to say. "Tell me you love me," he softly begs, "Tell me that if I died, you'd miss me."

"I do not want you to die for me," he says in a hoarse whisper. The other looks so crestfallen, and he is already turning around to leave, defeated. "It would be a frivolous death, and I would hate you for it." Maurice trembles just a little and walks a little faster, not wanting to hear the rest. He fears his heart might shatter into pieces. "I would hate you for leaving me alone." It makes him pause, makes him look back. Makes him see that white, stricken face. "I would hate you for making me love you and leaving." And he voice drops to barely a whisper, "And I would hate you for making me want to follow you into death."

And suddenly there are warm lips covering his, and those are Maurice's lips, and he can barely think, barely breathe. He does not realise there are tears until he is kissing them away. And each word whispered to him takes away a little of that desperation, the constant burden of never knowing what lies in store for tomorrow.

"I would stay with you," he murmurs, "Forever, if I had my way,"

"Then stay with me,' he whispers in reply, "But do not die for me." Maurice pulls back, and looks into brown eyes, drowningly deep.

"And if fate should find it fit to drag me into death?"

"Come Hell or high water, there is nothing, nothing, would keep me from you,"

"And if I would have you alive, and happy?" Luke paused, but barely for a moment, and his voice was sure, so assured in his own answer.

"Alive, perhaps, but not happy. Never happy. Not without you." A relieved smile,

"Good."