私　の　いたみ　を　取り除きます, おねがい．．．
Rid Me of my Pain, Please...

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Alright. So. This is just a little oneshot sidestory of mine I finally finished. I know I still need to update Lessons in Living, but I just felt the need to finish to this. Shoji was calling to me to finish telling his story. And if you know my Shoji, my muse of pain and suffering, well at all, you shall know he's hardly one to ignore. -shudder-

But, anyway. Enjoy this little oneshot I swear, I'll get LiL updated very soon. I've just been very... dead lately. xP

“I’ll get us out of this hell-hole of a place.”

You made me such an unrealistic promise that day. Somewhere, deep in my heart, I doubted that you would ever be true to your word. It wasn’t because you were only wanting to make empty promises, but just because we were kids tangled up in a screwed up world and there was nothing better owed to us outside the walls of the City.

But at that moment, I didn’t care. I could only think of how nice those words sounded; how nice the drizzling rain felt on my face as I looked up at you and smiled.

“I promise I’ll get us out of here.”

Standing at the wall, staring our captor down with hopeful smiles, thinking we would venture past those awesome walls one day. We would be set free amongst the rest of society, free to go about normal lives. There wouldn’t be any need to constantly worry about who had bled where and if we were going to die a terrible, painful death in a few months. There wouldn’t be any ‘drop-off days’, where the airplanes soared over head to drop off clothes and food every few days; we would have money we earned with our own two hands to spend however we chose. Our clothes would be new and our food wouldn’t be without taste. We could be together in happiness instead of huddled together in the dark corners of our rooms whenever our parents’ illnesses caused them to have attacks, contaminated blood flying every which-way as we listened to the blood-curdling screams of pain and fear, praying they didn’t find us in their pain-induced stupor.

So many big hopes for only two, ‘less than nothing’ teenage boys. We deserved better—were entitled to better, but fate had decided that this was the life meant for us to live. Fate was cruel to us; she, a sick and twisted being, forced her pains and sorrows on mortals so she herself could live carefree.

Who were we kidding, staring up at those gates that kept us locked inside this dismal, oppressive, dying City, as we vowed to leave this place one day?

We were doomed to failure from the beginning.

-----

--Two Years After The Promise--

God, the screams…

They were ear shattering and heart breaking to listen to and no matter how many times I turned in my bed, forced my half-stuffed, dirty pillow over my ears, I couldn’t stop it. Tears rolled down my face as I was forced to listen to the pains of the woman living on the floor above us in the shoddy old apartment. I wanted it to end, to hear no more of the shrieking cries and the thuds of her collisions with whatever was lying around the rooms she traveled in between in the throes of her attack.

As terrible as it was, though, I was less worried about the woman and more worried over Takashi, for two reasons.

First, his poor, sickly mother was all he had left in this world in the way of family. He’d never had any grandparents that he had met and his father had died years ago—a little more than two, actually. It must have hurt him so bad to listen to her while she was in so much pain.

Secondly, I was worried that she would find him, huddled away in the very corner of a room somewhere—locked in the closet or curled up underneath a cabinet. If she found him, it was over. If she didn’t accidentally kill him in the Virus-induced insanity and irrationalism, then she would at least pass the infection onto him. Unless you were extremely lucky, it was impossible to live once you contracted the Virus from contact with the blood of an infected person. After the first year—stage one—the virus was literally incurable at all and you were given your death sentence. Not that the first year was much better. That’s when the symptoms started to show up, slowly taking control of your body. It was possible to stop the illness initially, but that’s a luxury most cannot afford. Only a few vials of the Vaccine, developed by the ‘clean’ people living within the very depths of the City, blocked off from the infected themselves, are given to the local hospital per year and as such, they come with such a hefty price tag that only people of importance could stand to afford.

A groan escaped my chapped lips as another high-pitched cry echoed through the house. My hands were shaking as I listened, unable to stand it. While I had never managed to contract the disease myself, both of my parents had. I’d seen them suffer attacks before. It was horrifying and I thought I had some grasp on how much pain they were in.

But, as soon as the wish for quiet echoed through my distressed thoughts again, my wish was granted. A gunshot reverberated through the house and stilled every little noise—every pop as the wood in the walls settled for the night, every shuffle as mice ran about their runways underneath the floors, and every cricket chirping away outside, as giddy as could be. Pure silence, and then came the horror.

I threw off the covers and got onto my feet as fast as I could. The tears streaming down my cheeks fell harder now, as all I could think about was how to get upstairs one level as fast as possible. But, I wasn’t the only one rushing to see what had happened. Both of my parents had already made it out the door as the front door slammed into place again just seconds before I reached it.

I threw the door open and ran, not bothering to shut it behind me. Who the hell cared if someone stole our things?! That wasn’t important right now. All that was important… was him!

My lungs burned with the sudden labor and my bare feet ached against the rough concrete with each hard, fast step. I stubbed my toes more than once as I fumbled up the stairs, like a child that had just leaned how to walk. I could feel blood seeping in between my toes and felt the stinging pain, but ignored them. Just a little further, just a little further…

People were gathered outside now. The door to the apartment was thrown open as people stood outside and stared inside in horror. My parents had pushed themselves in front of the mass, the others too afraid to rush into the room where whatever gore lie there. They were already infected, though. They had nothing to lose except one of their best friends.

I ran to catch up with them, but before I could make it past the doorframe, someone caught my arms and held them, not letting me go. That’s when the screaming began again, this time the frantic screeches falling from my own lips.

Right in front of my eyes, my world spun off its axis.

My parents standing there, horrified at the scene before them. My mother clung tightly to my father’s chest, hiding her eyes away. He patted her hair soothingly. In the floor was Mamiko, Takashi’s mother, laid out on her back. Blood covered her clothing, head to toe. In her pale, blood-splotched hand was a gun, her finger still poised over the trigger. Her face, which had always been beautiful despite her illness, was now half missing, strewn about the room in such a way that made every on-looker’s stomach churn with nausea.

As sad as it was that Mamiko had killed herself, I could only keep my eyes on one person. He held his dead mother in his arms, body wracked with sobs as he clutched her tightly to his chest. There wasn’t a scratch on him. He hadn’t been hurt. But the blood covering him—a patch of it on his face, his chest and hands soaked with it, sitting in the middle of a crimson pool—was a frightening indicator of what his future was to hold.

How many times did I call his name? I wasn’t sure, exactly.

All I knew was that I called for him as many times as I could stand it, my lungs aching for air. My throat hurt. My head throbbed at the pain and my arms were twisted this way and that as I fought to get free of the people holding me back, unwilling to let me throw myself into certain, slow death. I screamed and screamed until my throat wouldn’t produce any more sound and even then, I tried to force his name out in rasping, gasping hisses. The rest of the world was a haze around me. All I could see was Takashi, covered in bright red.

His dream was ruined. He would never get out now and I, unwilling to leave his side, would never see the light of a clear, sunny day outside these walls like I had been promised.

Finally, someone moved past me and pulled the door shut and as soon as the lock was clicked into place from the other side, I was released. My lips still struggled to call out to him as I lunged myself forward, digging at the wood of the door keeping me from him. My fingertips bled as I pried at the surface, determined to scratch my way inside. But someone pulled me back again and before I could pull away, a strong blow to my stomach brought the world around into even more of a fog until my eyes fluttered closed.

For the first time in a long time, I dreamed as I floated in unconsciousness.

Takashi was walking away from me, covered in blood, and try as I might, I couldn’t keep up. When I woke, they told me I had mumbled and whimpered in my sleep, turning and fidgeting constantly as I cried, mumbling his name softly as I reached out for something. My heart gave a painful squeeze in my chest as the tears came again. I hadn’t caught him. I couldn’t catch him.

-----

--One Year Later--

“It’s not safe for you to go hang out with him, Shoji,” My mother mumbled as I walked into the main room of our apartment—the living room, kitchen, dining room, and master bedroom all in one. I walked to the table set up as our kitchen counter and pulled out a piece of bread from the half ruined loaf she had just pulled a slice from herself. I looked it over, pulling off a spot of mold and flicking it across the room before I went to the door.

“I know that,” I stated flatly, not daring to look back at her.

“You’ll catch it, dear,” She pleaded. Every time I left to meet with him, it was the same way. I broke her heart every time, but I knew that if I didn’t, my own heart would be broken instead. Was it selfishness that made me crawl back to him, despite the dangers? Love? A sense of commitment and responsibility to keep him company as he wasted away? I couldn’t rightly tell.

“I don’t care,” My reply was emotionless. Honestly, I did care. I cared a lot. But, I cared for Takashi far more than I cared for myself.

She didn’t say anything further. Today, it seemed, she would let me go, giving up on her one and only son. My poor, poor mother. It would be any day now that she passed away, I knew it. She had lived with the Virus for about three years now—far longer than she should have. Her body was wasting away on the bone. She was sick all the time. Her attacks were becoming more frequent and more severe. In fact, I had spent more nights over at the Home lately than at my own house.

The Home—a far-from-affectionate nickname given to an abandoned institution for the mentally disabled turned into a home for the homeless. It gave sanctuary and support to those slowly withering away at the hands of the sickness and tried hard to keep those uninfected safe while they were within their walls. Now and then, I went and stayed there whenever either of my parents would have their attacks, which was so often now that most of the time I just stayed multiple nights and came home only whenever I felt absolutely necessary.

I grabbed the small, hole-ridden cloth jacket I had managed to salvage from a drop-off weeks ago and slipped it over my shoulders, retreating from the apartment as fast as my legs would carry me.

In a way, little had changed since Takashi had been infected. We still clung to each other, really. We wandered the near-empty streets together, sat in the Home’s recreational room and played checkers, or went to that spot we had stood at so many years ago when we had decided that we were, one day, going to leave. But, we always just stood in silence, not one of us able to say any of the thoughts that came to our minds as we stared longingly at the huge slabs of concrete, covered by electric fences, barbed wire, and every sensor imaginable. So many people had tried escaping over that fence and each and every one had been killed for trying. The blood stains left behind served as a warning to all.

But, in another way, everything had changed.

Rain was falling again today. I thought it had been raining all week long, but I wasn’t sure. The days tended to blur together now, anyway. My dark brown hair was plastered to my face by the time I arrived at Home, letting myself through the front doors, strolling through the relatively clean corridors to the room I knew I would find him in.

My heart slipped for just a moment and I gave a jump, though, as a set of long arms draped over my shoulders from behind, holding me in place. I would’ve recognized the embrace any day. With a smile, I leaned back against it, tilted my head back against a shoulder, and closed my eyes.

“You really should stay away from me,” He mumbled, burying his nose in my hair. I shifted and bit with a small laugh at the tickling feeling it left behind.

“You’ve been saying that for a year now,” I half opened my eyes and gave him a sideways look, “I don’t care what I should do. I’ll do what I want to, and I want to visit you, whether it’s bad for me or not.”

His arms slowly unwrapped around me as he straightened himself, giving me enough time to stand on my own two feet again before he turned to walk down a corridor attached to the one I had been heading down to find him. I stood there for a second before I spoke up, clearly confused.

“You’re going to your room?” I asked softly. He stopped and looked over his shoulder at me, confused at first before he gave me an amused grin.

“You can come, too, if you’re not scared or anything,” Takashi offered. I hesitated—not because I was scared, but because I was uncertain why we were going to his room. We never really spent time there unless something was bothering him. Otherwise, we kept to the public rooms of Home or out of the street somewhere. After a second, I gave him a weak nod and followed.

Black numbers on the wall passed slowly as we strolled down the hall. I watched as the walls became even more streaked with dried blood as we walked in silence. Thankfully enough, it was nigh impossible to catch the Virus from dried blood, but it was still haunting to see. We arrived at his room only a few seconds later, Takashi pulling the door open for me politely as he stepped inside.

Warily, I entered the room and looked around.

The last time I had been here had been months ago when Takashi had told me his plan to work to save up enough money to get a vaccination from the hospital. The room hadn’t changed. The soft, grey carpet beneath my feet was still as soft and comfortable as ever and the white, padded walls still as suffocating as they had been last time. It didn’t help that this time, the atmosphere in the room wasn’t hopeful. There was something foreboding there as the door creaked, finally locking shut behind the black-haired boy behind me.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked mechanically, not turning around to face him yet. I was scared. Would there be some look of remorse on his face? Fear? Anger? He laughed.

“A number of things, actually,” He snickered, walking past me to sit on the bed, patting the spot next to him. While the bed didn’t seem overly comfortable, it was a welcomed offer to my sore feet. I strolled over and sat down next to him, still glancing about the room. I spotted a number of small, white pills strewn about the night stand, the container they had been housed in knocked over. Pain killers. The way in which they were scattered told me that he hadn’t been cautious to read the dosage or directions on when to take them. I couldn’t blame him, though.

“You know what I mean,” My eyes turned back to him, “Why did you bring me back here?”

This time, he didn’t reply. Instead, he leaned forward a bit until he could reach under the bed, producing a shoe box when he straightened his back. He placed it across his knees and peeled off the top, laying it to the side. My eyes stared at the contents in disbelief, but before I could say anything, he spoke.

“Fifty-three dollars and twenty seven cents,” Was all he said at first before taking a shaky breath in to continue, “A little over half the cost of one syringe full of the Vaccine.”

The total was amazing. Money really didn’t mean much in the City any longer, but it was still used as a means of basic trade for items found on drop-off days. In fact, there was really only one purpose for money any longer—to try to save up enough to save themselves from death. Seeing as almost everyone wanted to be cured and immune henceforth from the horrible disease, money scarcely switched hands. One syringe of the Vaccine was a whole hundred dollars. To most people in normal cities, it wouldn’t have been much at all. But here… I had never seen more than fifty-cents in my lifetime. Takashi had actually managed to scrape up such a vast amount of money—a small fortune to us—in so little time. I looked up at him questioningly.

“Take it,” He said suddenly, pushing the box to me, “Start saving money, too, so that if you ever get this damn disease, you’ll have enough to cure yourself and be rid of it forever. I don’t have a use for it anymore.”

My mouth fell open slightly in shock… What had he just said?

“I went to the hospital yesterday. They said it’s incurable now. I’m going to die now, no matter how hard I work to save up enough cash for the cure,” He said it with a keen smile on the outside, but I knew how much it hurt him to say it on the inside.

My vision blurred slightly on the edges, but it was just the sudden moisture in my eyes. Automatically, he reached forward and took my face in his hands, wiping at my tears with his thumbs. I reached up, shaky hands resting over his. No.. This couldn’t happen!

“They said I’ll start having attacks any time now,” Whispering this to me, he leaned in even closer, “I don’t want to end up hurting you. I know you too well, Sho. It doesn’t matter to you if you’ll end up catching the Virus, does it? Your survival instinct is all screwy. The first time I start having an attack and you’re around, you’re not going to be smart and run away. You’ll get yourself hurt. That’s why…”

Pause. A trembling inhale.

“… I’ll kill myself. I won’t hurt you that way.”

In an instant, I tore myself away from him, raised a hand, and then let it come back down full force, right across his cheek. It dazed him for a brief moment before he stared up at me—I had rose to my feet to stare down at him and the box of cash had scattered around the floor—in disbelief.

“You idiot!” I hissed, trembling even worse than before, “You won’t hurt me that way?! Who the fuck are you trying to fool?!”

“The world won’t end if I suddenly disappear from it!” He growled, suddenly standing up as well. He towered over me, but I wasn’t intimidated, even as his voice rose in volume, not even as his rough hands grabbed my shoulders, “But the world will end for me if I stay around and I end up giving this curse of an illness to you!”

“And what do you think will happen to my world if you die?!” I sobbed, forcing his hands to release my arms. But, he just grabbed my wrists again to keep me from doing anything stupid. I struggled against them for a second before I slumped forward, giving up. Sobs wracked my body over and over again as I buried my face in the crook of his neck, the unique scent he had—a mixed fragrance of that sterile hospital smell mixed with the tell-tale scent of a sickly person—not comforting at the moment, but making my heart ache even worse, “It wouldn’t b-be worth it anymore… I.. I don’t want you to go. Please… You’re all I have left. Mom and Dad are going to die soon and I won’t have a-anyone else if you leave, too…”

“Liar,” He whispered accusing, releasing my wrists to wrap his arms around me again in the most comforting gesture he could make, “You have a lot of friends here. What about Lillith? You two are good friends. She would never leave you. You would still have her and she isn’t infected, so you wouldn’t have to worry about being so careful around her.”

“You don’t understand,” I whined into his neck, sniffling, “You are my world. If you’re gone, nothing’s left.”

Silence fell in between us. Maybe the confession had been more revealing than was necessary? No, it needed to be said, I was sure of it. It was the whole truth. My world revolved around the older boy. We had grown up together. He had always been there when I was younger. Whenever our parents had contracted the Virus and started to have attacks, we would escape together, curl up somewhere and hide together. So many times he had held me close, stroked my back, whispered in my ear that everything would be okay, and that he would never let anyone hurt me.

Desperation won out in my heart as the predominant emotion. Anything to keep Takashi from doing something so drastic as to end his own life for my sake. I wouldn’t have been able to bear that burden. I pulled back just enough so that I could extend my height just a bit by standing on my tip-toes, eyes falling shut and head tilting slightly to the side. I pressed my lips to his as the tears fought to come back.

At first, his body went rigid, but slowly eased up again. Two large hands splayed across my lower back, pulling me closer. My arms went forth and looped around his neck. Thin, pale fingers gently rested across his skin. His lips parted, tongue moving past them shyly at first to explore my mouth. Need and desire taking control of my mind, my own spurred his into action. The kiss deepened in a matter of seconds as we both wanted more. I pushed myself tight against him, hips pressed together as my fingers knotted in the hem of his t-shirt. His hands rested now underneath the fabric of my clothing, rubbing over my sides and stomach. Once, the tip of a hand just barely slipped past the waistband of my jeans—whether it was on purpose or not, I couldn’t tell—and I groaned into the kiss, right before I was pushed away from him.

“Shit,” He hissed, suddenly seeming to regain control of himself. Once of those hands that had been playing over my sides just seconds earlier covered his face now as he breathed hard, trying to rationalize his thoughts. I ached to have those hands back on my body.

Even if Takashi would be almost guaranteed to infect me with the Virus if we had went much further, I didn’t care. He was going to die, he said. Without him, my world would cease to exist, just like I had said. I would die shortly after, either from heartbreak or by my own hand. So, what did I have to lose? I could bear the pains of the illness if I had him.

But, it was selfish for me to want him to infect me for that reason. I knew it would wreak havoc on his conscience, to know it was his fault for my slow death. Suddenly, I felt guilty for wishing that of him.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, taking an unsteady step back and dropping my head, “I shouldn’t have. I’ll go, if you want me to. But please… Don’t do anything stupid.”

I looked up and gave him another pleading look. His hand slid down from his eyes as his arm went back to its place beside his eyes. He gave me a long glance before a sigh passed those lips.

“Fine, I won’t. Not yet, anyway,” He mumbled. I gave him a weak smile before I turned and left. He needed time to think. Hell, I needed time to figure things out myself.

-----

--Two Weeks Later--

Funerals weren’t exactly ceremonies in the City. It was more like a small event that most people were afraid to attend to besides close relatives. The dead would just be laid out on a couch or bed and the closest relatives or friends would visit them, maybe say a few last words, and then they would have the dead be taken off to the graveyard. There weren’t really any spots left in the graveyard anymore. Despite how large it was, almost every spot had been taken up. Bodies were piled up at the back of the plot of land where the fewest visitors wandered. There, they rotted and decomposed out in the open, making the place a sickening reminder to anyone that passed by it of how quickly the death rate was rising.

A week ago, my father passed away in his sleep from a severe case of pneumonia. Not even two days ago, my mother passed away as well. She had killed herself, unable to take the pain of the disease and the loss of her beloved husband any longer.

I had spent the past day at Home, as whatever minor preparations made by close friends of theirs were made. Today was the last day before their bodies were hauled off like the others. I had worked up the courage to go and say my good byes to them, but had been cowardly enough to ask Takashi to come with me. I couldn’t do it alone and I knew that he would want to see them one last time as well.

While we were growing up, our two families had been like one big one. Takashi’s father had died a long time ago, but his mother had befriended my parents soon after she moved into the space above us with her son. I had been so young at the time and had never had anyone to play with. But then, the black-haired boy was brought into my life. I had been so happy and I had never left his side. We were like brothers, in a way, but even at such a young age, it transcended that. We weren’t like brothers at all. The bond was deeper than that of blood. It always had been.

I had finished getting dressed—not a single formal thing about me—in jeans and a worn out t-shirt before I left my room, navigated down a few more halls, and found myself knocking lightly at Takashi’s door. When he opened it and looked at me, I could tell he had had another sleepless night and my heart gave a small, painful twist.

He hadn’t gotten much rest in the past two weeks. Worry over himself and me, too, was keeping him from being able to relax a bit. I had tried a few times to help him get over it, but it never seemed to work. Once I had even spent the night in his room, much to his protest, and held him like he had held me on many occasions before, whispering in his ear how everything would be alright and how wonderful the outside world would be once we made it out of this City. It had been the only night he had fallen asleep for more than two hours at a time in quite a while.

“Ready?” I asked simply. He gave a nod and slipped out of his room, leading me down the hall. I pulled his door shut before following him. Carelessness—something he had gained in the past two weeks. He’d given up already.

The silence didn’t change as we walked down the halls together, either. I may have been stubborn enough to disobey both of my parents more than a handful of times, but I had loved them dearly. It hurt me to think of them as gone forever, both leaving the living world in pure agony. Even worse was how I’d been away for a few days and hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to tell them how much I loved them and would miss them while they were still living. Takashi, I knew, felt the same sort of guilty sorrow I did.

We passed a handful of people on the way to my house, where the bodies had been laid out for the last few visitors. People were rarely seen wandering outside in the City unless there was the occasional bit of good weather—overcast, but not too cold, with no drizzling rain. But today, it could almost pass for night time with how dark it was. There would be a storm soon, but I had long ago grown apathetic to dismal weather.

My feet were heavy as we ascended the set of stairs leading to the apartment, my heart starting to labor a bit harder. It wasn’t, necessarily, that it was physically difficult for me to make it up two flights of stairs, but I felt like my legs would collapse at any moment. Before I fell and rolled back down the stairs again, though, I made it to the right level and stood at the mouth of the long, dull corridor, eyes seeking out the door that I was all too familiar with. I stared for a long moment, feeling moisture well up in my eyes suddenly. Death had never been something anyone cried about in the City, as it was so commonplace. But, it was hard to take, when it was your parents that were the ones that had lost their lives.

A hand was around my own suddenly, large and calloused with fifty-three dollars and twenty-seven cents worth of hard labors and shady jobs. Even if Takashi was sick, his hand still retained the warmth I loved and lived off of. Even if he meant to comfort me, it only made my heart pound harder and more tears well up when I realized that in anywhere from a few months to a few years, I would be doing this all over again.

But, by the time that time came around, I would be standing in a blood-stained, once-white padded room by myself, holding a hand that no longer had any warmth about it at all—just the cold, clamminess of death.

Pushing the depressing thought to the back of my mind, I dragged my feet forward and to the door. With another deep breath, I reached out, turned the tarnished gold doorknob, and let myself in. It didn’t surprise me that the door was unlocked. Why lock it, anyway? During their visits to the family, I was certain that either a few neighbors or even some of the family friends had filched whatever little valuable we had ever owned. But this was hardly a shock, nor even remotely morally appalling. This was the survival of the fittest at its height.

No one was there when we arrived, thankfully, but the thick smell of death clinging to the air was present to greet us. It was a smell we were both used to, but it had a new meaning here. Now, both of us were all alone. I swallowed hard as I urged my feet forward, strolling to the second room of the house—my bedroom, where I assumed they had been laid for the time being. Takashi closed the front door behind us, slipping the lock into place so we could have our privacy. Anyone else that wished to see them could wait.

I had been right in my assumption, I noted, as I pulled the door to my old room open slowly and peered inside. It was dark and the room held a faint fruity scent behind that of decomposition, which I was just barely able to detect. A look at the desk told me that there had been candles lit and left to burn, but judging by the little bit of wax left behind on the shoddy nightstand and desk, they had been taken not too long ago.

Finally, my eyes settled on the two figures on the bed that I had been internally dreading to see. I had witnessed my parents having Attacks multiple times, but it paled in comparison to their actual deaths. They had always been weak and vulnerable then, but this was an entirely new realm of pitiful.

My father was lying on his back, looking sick, tired, and like he’d given up all hope. A small line of dried, brown-red blood had trailed from the corner of his dried, cracked lips and down the side of his face. Mother, though, was hidden underneath a dirty white sheet. I hadn’t been given the exact details of her suicide, but I knew it couldn’t have been pretty if they had had to cover her. But, still, I had a need to see her one last time before she was thrown out unceremoniously to join the pile of corpses in the landfill of a cemetery.

I looked back at Takashi momentarily and it was as if he understood just by the look alone what I intended to do. For a second, it seemed like he was going to tell me not to—that it was better for me to just leave the sheet be. But then understanding seemed to flash through his dimming blue eyes. With a deep inhale, I stepped forward and reached out, a shaking hand taking the cover’s hem. There was a bit of hesitation before I pulled the cover back to expose from her stomach up.

The memories flooded back so suddenly and I choked out a mix between a gasp and a sob as my stomach took a sudden roll from sickness.

He was there in an instant, just like the old times, with his arms around me protectively. He was holding me up as my legs gave out from underneath me, unable to support even my extremely light weight. I twisted and grabbed the front of his shirt, burying my face in his shirt as the tears came. Not just tears, either—repressed sobs I had been holding in for months while I watched both my father and my mother waste away into nothing.

It looked just like the night Takashi had contracted the damnable disease. Mother’s face, which had been pleasant and beautiful in its own right for a sick person’s, was destroyed—bloodied, distorted, a bit burned, and bits of it ripped away entirely. In that brief glimpse, it hadn’t been hard to see the disgusting contents of a human’s head and I instantly wish I hadn’t even bothered to look.

“Th-They’re g-g-gone,” I sobbed, clinging tighter and tighter to him, “G-God, Takashi. I c-can’t… c-can’t believe it.”

“Shh,” He whispered as soothingly he could through his own distress. Making sure my eyes were still hidden, he moved and temporarily removed one arm from around me to pull the cover up to its rightful place again. Once my mother was covered again, the limb went back around me in the embrace, “Everything’s going to be alright, I promise.”

I wanted to curse myself for being so weak all of a sudden. Death was normal. It was even a God-sent in this place. My parents were no longer in pain, at least. But I still couldn’t help but to selfishly want them to come back to me. I wanted everything to go back to the way it was years ago, before my mother and father had caught the sickness and we lived a cautious, but pleasant life by City standards.

But they weren’t coming back. Not ever. The house had also been stripped clean of any and all belongings—even my own, or so I assumed. I didn’t care to look for them at least. All I wanted was to get out of the apartment building and go back to my new home—the Home. A place built for people like me who had lost almost everything.

Almost everything. I still had two things to be somewhat thankful for—Takashi and my own health.

-----

--Three Months Later--

There was only one way to describe me after my parents had died. Fading. I was disappearing right before everyone’s eyes, or so I had been told. Before, I had been able to laugh and joke around with people on occasion, but now I scarcely smile and even more rarely even spoke to anyone besides Takashi. Even Lilith, the slightly insane, allegedly French girl living at Home that I had befriended long ago, had been ignored by me, much to her chagrin.

To top things off, I hadn’t seen Takashi as much as I usually did. He’d holed himself up in his room a lot of the time. He didn’t like being around a lot of people anymore. It had been almost four months since he’d been told that he would soon start the real suffering of the Virus. Yet, he hadn’t had a single Attack yet. In his own words, he was a ticking time bomb with a twisted sense of irony, just waiting to go off at the most inopportune moment.

Several times, I had tried to pry the door to the room open, but the doors refused to give way under my desperate fingertips. Even if it seemed like the building itself and the rest of the City was deteriorating as fast as ever, I still couldn’t claw open the door separating me from him.

After a while, I had given up. If he didn’t want to be around me, there was no way to make him come out to see me for more than a couple of moments at a time. The two or three minute long visits—where he’d stand on the farthest edge of the room and refused to let me get any closer—were better than nothing, I suppose.

My room was hardly furnished. Usually, people brought old pictures and shabby old books with them whenever they moved into the Home. Whatever they had left was sat in the corners and usually never unpacked because they knew it was useless. Nothing would bring comfort to anyone here, but it was still better than living on the streets. At least we usually got a little bit of food once or twice a week here, more if we were lucky enough to come across some of our own on a Drop-Off Day.

I sat on the bed, legs dangling over the edge as I stared at the wall. There was nothing better to do with my time. Absently, my fingers tapped over the thin, rough sheets and I permitted a sigh to escape me, breaking the silence. Without cause nor warning, I flopped back onto the bed’s surface and closed my eyes. A nap was as good as anything right now.

I had been drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness for only about ten or eleven minutes before there was a heavy knock on the door, again shattering my bit of peace and quiet. At first, I ignored it, but when the knock became louder and more frantic, I sighed and called an ‘I’m coming’ as I rolled out of bed and onto my bare feet.

“Who is it?” I called before I opened the door. If it wasn’t anyone important, I was going to go back to sleep.

“Takashi,” The response was weak, but I could still hear it. A pause, then he continued just as softly, “Let me in?”

The door was opened almost instantly and, just like he’d claimed, Takashi was standing there awkwardly as ever, once proud shoulders slumped and his skin a deathly pale shade. His black hair had lost whatever healthy shine it had had in the past four months, but had grown a bit—almost enough to cover his sinking eyes and the faint shadows underneath them.

“So, what’s with the sudden visit?” I asked suspiciously. With how Takashi had been certain that he’d go into sickness at any moment, I was surprised to see him so willingly close. It was only more shocking when he stepped closer, past me, and into the room to take a seat on the bed.

“Felt like it,” He whispered, “Lonely.”

“You wouldn’t be lonely if you didn’t isolate yourself from everyone all the time,” I all but whimpered, closing the door to stalk back to the bed. I didn’t know if he still wanted to be distanced from me or not, so I took a seat at the foot of the bed, looking over at him. He looked back at me for a moment before motioning for me to come closer.

I was instantly perplexed, but my body willed itself into motion anyway. Arms were around me as soon as I was within range, pulling me gently to his chest, but firmly keeping me close.

“I’m sorry. Just didn’t want to hurt you,” He mumbled, words muffled in my hair, “But I can’t stand it—being away from you for so long. Everything’s so fucking screwed up and I… God, I can’t take it.”

“I know,” I sighed, closing my eyes as I breathed the phrase again, “I know…”

“You’re still so warm,” He sighed, a small frown forming on my lips. I didn’t want to even think about how cool his skin was to the touch. It wasn’t anywhere near as cold as ice, but far cooler than any human should’ve been. It was almost like he was just newly dead, rigor mortis just beginning to set in.

Both of us fell quiet, consoled by each other’s presence. We hadn’t held each other in such a long time. We both needed it—to feel the other, as intimate as we ever could be due to the illness.

Time dragged on, hours parading on like seconds even though it usually dragged by incredibly slowly to make the suffering last even longer. Before long, we had found ourselves lying back against the mattress together as the sun sank and left the room dark, his arms around my waist and my own around his neck. For the longest time, we talked, barely above a whisper, reminding ourselves of semi-pleasant days lost a long time ago. Our world only had him and me in it and, for once in a rather long time, I was happy again for even just a few moments. I forgot about his sickness and he seemed not to remember it, either.

And then, for what could possibly have been the third time, my world seemed to spin even farther from its axis.

It was nothing but a simple cough at first. In our happiness-induced stupor, he didn’t pay it much attention, when any other time Takashi wouldn’t checked to make sure he hadn’t coughed up blood. He covered his mouth with his hand and we went back to talking. Neither of us paid it any attention until a muffled cry escaped him moments later. Hands on my waist tightened around fistfuls of my shirt.

“What’s wrong?” I asked quietly, concerned over the sudden yelp. I received no immediate answer and my worry grew, especially when I felt the other’s grip around me tighten almost painfully.

I tried to move out of his grasp to light the candle on the desk, but couldn’t manage to get free. As if all the little clues were falling into place one by one at an alarmingly fast rate, I came to the realization that it was finally happening. Takashi had been completely right when he’d said his body would have a sick and twisted sense of timing.

My first instinct, naturally, was to try and help him, but survival instinct kicked in almost immediately after, fueled by the knowledge that something bad would definitely happen if Takashi found out he’d caused me to catch the Virus. Roughly, perhaps more roughly than I needed to, I pushed against his chest and finally managed an escape, but his hand caught my arm and held me there. My stomach rolled as soon as I felt the hot, sticky liquid on his hand, now on my forearm.

It was over, wasn’t it?

What little sanity I had left seemed to snap then and there, but I still had enough (quickly disappearing) common sense to know that I couldn’t do anything to help with the pain. I pulled my arm away and, fresh tears rolling down my face, ran for the door. I escaped out into the hall, leaving the other writhing in pain on the bed, and slammed the door shut behind me. I gathered up what little physical strength I had left and sprinted down the hall as fast as I could manage on weak, shaking legs. The screams suddenly filling the building only made me run harder.

I came to a halt finally just outside of the room where the assistants—a handful of volunteers, infected with the Virus themselves, who had nothing to lose by helping out around the place—usually hung out in their nightly watch. All of them knew me well and I knew all of them well. So, when I stepped into the room, tears streaming down my face as faint screams still echoed in my wake, nothing had to be said.

The red running down my forearm was enough to clarify anything in an instant.

-----

--Three Days Later--

I hadn’t seen Takashi since the night of the incident. I had wanted to, but I just couldn’t. Not that the assistants would let me in, anyway. Supposedly, he had lost a lot of blood and they had had to give him a transfusion to just keep him alive. Those that weren’t watching him like a hawk had instead helped me to find a new room. Now that I was possibly contaminated, I couldn’t stay in the clean wing of the building any longer. I was moved into one of the old, bloodstained rooms on the far right side of the second floor.

It made me a bit sick to know that the room I’d been situated in had belonged to a girl who’d lived at Home for a little under a half a year, having moved in when she was already in the grip of the second stage. Seeing as it was rare for them to ever transfer someone who was sick to a new room, I didn’t even bother to as what had happened to her.

The stained, padded walls were terrifying, as if they alone symbolized what sort of future I would have myself. Not like I needed a big symbol to tell me how much pain I would be in come about a year’s time. Ever since I’d been moved in, I stared at the floor instead of the walls, trying to forget that they were even there. I didn’t need to start thinking about such depressing things.

But, the hospital was far more imposing a symbol than my own room could ever be. As I stood outside of the building, staring up at the off-white exterior and boarded windows, I wanted nothing more than to just disappear from existence completely. But I had an appointment so a doctor could formally give me my death sentence and quash my last bit of hope.

With all the enthusiasm a death row inmate has walking to the execution room, I dragged myself inside. The place was deathly quiet and empty, only two or three people sitting in the waiting room. As soon as I went to the receptionist’s desk, she got up and led me to a small, almost completely empty room a few doors down from the waiting area. She gave me the customary ‘The doctor will be right in’, and went back to the desk without a word more.

The eerie silence of the room was almost unbearable, as were the number of bloodstains on the old tiles and the medical cot I had seated myself on. I’d counted how many ceiling tiles there were two times and was halfway through my third whenever the door swung open, a man looking to be no older than his mid-thirties walking in without so much as even looking up at me. This was all just routine.

“Infected three days ago?” He asked as he took a seat, allowing the heavy door to swing shut of its own accord behind him. I looked up and nodded weakly. He caught the motion and nodded, pausing for a second before continuing on, “By what means? How much exposure to the infected blood was there?”

“A friend,” I began, cutting myself off as soon as the words were out of my mouth. I almost considered changing around the terminology to something more appropriate, but then decided against it. This man did not need to know every little detail to tell me I was going to die, “There was only a bit of blood on my arm.”

“All the better for you, then,” He stated almost apathetically. If I didn’t know that he’d probably grown immune to the sad stories of cases even more sorrowful of my own, I might have been offended.

“Let’s just get this over with, so I can go back to Home and rot away for the next few years in peace.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head before pushing his feet against the ground to send the rolling stool he was on closer to the desk containing a limited number of medical supplies. Out of one of the containers, he pulled out a syringe and a (mostly sterile) hollow needle from another. For a moment, he played around with it until everything was in place. Without making me wait any longer than necessary—something I was grateful for—he stood and walked over to me.

“Your forearm, please,” He asked politely, holding out his hand expectantly. Without protest, I extended an arm, turned it over, and rested the back of my wrist in his hand. I didn’t flinch as the needle broke the skin at my inner elbow. I just stared at the floor blankly.

He took just barely enough blood for whatever the test was he was going to do. The needle was pulled out of the flesh gently and he turned back to go to the desk, shuffling about the supplies for whatever else he needed.

The doctor didn’t even bother to put on a set of gloves as he worked the test—a small little vial of some clear liquid in one hand with the syringe of blood in the other. Most people would’ve been insanely hesitant to work with the blood of a sick person. But, the doctors here had nothing to worry about when it came to that. They’d all taken the Vaccine themselves, rendering the Virus useless against their bodies. They didn’t even have to pay for the cure, either.

Carefully, he removed the needle and held the end of the syringe over the top of the vial, pushing down on the plunger carefully so as a few little red droplets would drop into the mixture. Once he’d got enough into the tube to satisfy him, he threw the rest of the unused blood into the trashcan. In the back of my mind, I made a mental note about how careless the action was, but I kept my eyes plastered on the vial, carefully being twirled about in the older male’s hands, until he promptly turned away from me and blocked my view.

I had been confident that I would be given my death sentence when I walked into the building, yet I found my hope growing as I waited for him to turn around and tell me what the test results were. My knuckles were white as they balled into fists in my lap, my bottom lip aching as I worried it with my teeth.

Finally, he turned around with the little tube in his hand.

The liquid was back to clear.

I’ve never seen a person’s face look so astonished.

“You’re extremely lucky,” He breathed, “There wasn’t a reaction. You didn’t contract the Virus. One in a damn million.”

If it was even possible, I felt even fainter than I did three nights prior whenever Takashi’s bloody hand had grabbed my arm. If I hadn’t been sitting, I would’ve fell. I dropped my head, closed my eyes to try to keep the tears in. I had never been so relieved in my life. Except, I wasn’t really relieved for my own sake. I knew that when I could tell Takashi he hadn’t given the Virus to me, he wouldn’t be such an emotional wreck about the whole ordeal.

“Unless you’d like to stick around for a check-up, I think you’re free to go,” The older man laughed, patting me on the shoulder before he turned to make his exit. Still unable to feel my legs, I sat there for a few moments longer before I hobbled out of the hospital to go back to Home. I had to tell him. I had to, even if the attendants wouldn’t let me in to see him.

My legs regained some strength as soon as I made it outside, rain drizzling down from the light gray sky above me. The weather could do whatever it wished and it wouldn’t have bothered me right then. I was too happy—far too happy for anything to drag me down. I ran as fast as I could, ignoring the gasping breaths escaping me from overworking my lungs.

Thankfully, Home wasn’t too far away from the hospital and I was there in about fifteen minutes time. I took only a second or two to rest and catch my breath before running up to Takashi’s room, the stairs not bothering me as much as they usually did. My mind was set on one thing and one thing only.

Shock overcame me, though, as soon as I saw no attendants outside his room, making sure no one—that ‘no one’ mainly being me—tried to break into his room while he was still recovering. Cautiously, I walked to the door and tested the doorknob. The room was open. Pushing the door open, I was confused to find no one inside. No attendants, no Takashi—no one. Just a bloodstained, unmade bed.

Did this mean that his condition had improved enough to allow him to wander around the building? It was the only logical answer I could come up with.

Figuring I only had to find him in the cafeteria or some other room on the first floor, I immediately altered my course. Halfway down the set of stairs, though, I passed one of the women who regularly kept up with the infected on the second floor. She looked worried, her usually joyful face twisted into an anxious frown as she stopped me on the stairs.

“What did the doctor say?” She asked breathlessly.

“I’m going to be needing my old room back. I’m not infected,” I smiled slightly, “Where did Takashi go?”

I had obviously hit a sore spot whenever she grimaced at the question.

“Please don’t be upset,” She whimpered, “We don’t… We don’t know where he went. We finished the transfusion yesterday, but he had still been sleeping all day. Shortly after you left for the hospital, we took a break. None of us ever would have guessed that he would’ve woken up… He just disappeared…”

I had known he would do something stupid.

I froze, letting the information fully sink into my head. Where could he have went?! I had no idea where he could have possibly went off to, until my mind flipped back upon memories a few months past—the day he’d told me he was incurable and that he was giving the money he had saved up for himself to me, incase I had ever got the terrible disease.

My feet carried me back up the staircase, down the hall, and back into his room faster than I ever could have imagined myself going. Almost tearing apart the room, I searched for the shoebox full of quarters and dimes and old one-dollar bills. Under the bed, in the dresser… I finally found it under a pile of clothes. I pried off the lid and threw it and my breath left me as soon as I saw the contents were not there.

He was going to do something stupid, all right.

Worried beyond belief, I jetted back downstairs and out the front door. Rain was pouring now, but I ignored the way it made my brown hair mat and cling to my face. I was soaked right down to the skin in a matter of moments, but I kept running, even when my body protested against such harsh work.

I went the main route to the Hospital, but still couldn’t find him anywhere. Whenever I barged back into the building, the receptionist reassured me multiple times that she hadn’t seen anyone. She was no help whatsoever. With a growl of frustration, I ran back outside and started to comb the little alleys that branched off from the main route. After about twenty minutes of frantically running through little dark corners and alleys, I found him.

This time, my world stopped spinning altogether.

I rushed to him, but I already knew what had happened. I could tell even so far away how bad the whole situation was. Even though the rain was washing a bit of it away, I could still see the blood and the faint shine of a few coins carelessly left behind by whoever had jumped him.

Even though I knew I would hardly be lucky enough to miss contracting the Virus a second time around, I dropped to my knees beside him and pulled him to me. He was already dead and his skin was starting to become chilly, but some irrational part of my mind kept telling me that he would open his eyes at any moment and laugh at me like the old times whenever he’d play practical jokes on me. We would walk back to Home together in the rain, our hands together, fingers interlocked, as we went back to where we belonged.

But, he never opened his eyes, no matter how much I cried and begged him to. No matter how many tears fell from the corners of my eyes, mixed in with the rain as the droplets washed them away, and no matter how many times I called his name—just like that one night only just over a year ago—he would not come back to me now. He was gone for good and there was nothing I could do to bring him back.

Hours passed and, in that time, the rain had dulled from a downpour back to a faint drizzle. When I was sure I had finally cried until tears would no longer come, I knew it was time to take him Home one last time. I pocketed the five or six quarters left on the ground before I stood and looped one of his arms around my thin shoulders, doing my best to drag him along with me as I dragged myself. It took forever before I finally reached Home, using one of my legs to kick open the door and drag us inside.

People almost instantly came rushing in to see what was the matter, but just as quickly shied away. Takashi’s stomach was still covered in blood from the wound there and I was almost completely covered in it myself.

But I didn’t care if I caught the horrible disease any longer. What was the use of living if Takashi wasn’t there with me, especially when I had to live the rest of my life with the guilt of knowing that he had died because of me for absolutely no reason?

-----

--Four Years Later--

I should have died years ago, but apparently, if you’re body is naturally resistant to the Virus, it only makes the disease last that much longer when you finally do contract it. The first stage had been normal for me—a little over a year’s time—but the second had been so long. Whereas most people usually died after about a year and a half, I had been stuck in the same pain-filled stage for the past three years.

It’s common knowledge that most people don’t actually die of sickness in the City. Most usually kill themselves whenever they decide they can’t handle the pain of living anymore.

It was a miracle that I was still alive after so long. At least three times in stage one alone, I’d tried to kill myself. But, each time, I had been discovered and nursed back to health, no matter how many times I’d told them I didn’t want to live anymore without him beside me. But I soon gave up on trying to live that way. Instead, I devoted myself to working hard and earning back every little penny Takashi had devoted his time into making, and then some.

There were a number of odd jobs on the streets if one looked hard enough. Trading around things you found on dump days or in an alley… Breaking into people’s apartment buildings occasionally to try and grab whatever little bit of cash they had. Even such things like selling my own body for a couple dimes were not below my morals. I didn’t even have morals anymore.

Even whenever I found out I was terminal, I kept working on the days I could get my ill body to cooperate. I had a goal, and I would reach it, even if it was useless to myself.

I kept pushing myself harder and harder and, at last, things had fallen into place. Selling off a decent sweater I’d found on the last drop-off for a good sixteen cents, I’d gathered all the money I needed and, armed with a semi-dull knife in my pocket in case anyone tried to mug me like they had Takashi years ago, made my way to the hospital.

The same doctor that had given me both my good news and death sentence again all in one day was the same man I met with again; the same one I handed over all one hundred dollars and three cents for one single syringe of the Vaccine. He’d looked perplexed and explained to me, as if I had already went insane (which, I suppose, I really had), that I was beyond the point of no return. With a smile, I told him ‘It’s for a friend’.

He handed it over willingly enough and I just as carefully made my way to the cemetery. Takashi hadn’t been given a formal burial—he’d been thrown into the huge rotting pile himself a long time ago—but Lilith and I had worked put together a little memorial site right in the corner, a few rocks marking a spot that were more symbolic than practical. With a sigh, I sat down in front of the makeshift gravesite, the pleasant smile still on my face.

“We finally got it,” I announced happily, setting down the little syringe of amber-colored liquid carefully in front of the marker, “You worked hard for it and I finally finished it. It’s just too bad that neither of us made it in time, huh?”

I fell silent again, sighing, as I got no response. I knew I shouldn’t have expected one, but still, some irrational part of my mind kept wishing that he’d say something back. He never did, though, and this time would be no different. But, if I closed my eyes and concentrated hard enough, I could still hear the sound of his voice and see him smiling at me.

I didn’t have anything else to say, other than a whispered ‘I still love you’ before I grabbed the syringe and stood up to leave the cemetery. Honestly, my first intention had been to leave behind the vaccine for Takashi, as a sort of odd symbolism my mind thought appropriate. But I knew he would be mad at me, to waste all my efforts away like that when I could give away hope to someone.

There weren’t many candidates in my mind as I took the long way around to go back to Home, passing by the place where Takashi had promised me that we’d leave the City one day. But there was where I stopped again, when I spotted a huddled figure alone near one of those massive, foreboding walls. My curiosity was piqued and I stepped closer.

It was a child, a young little boy who looked like he’d just finished crawling through a pile of trash. That couldn’t have been far from the truth, either. At first, I almost thought he was dead until he seemed to hear me and looked up, large, childish eyes watery and terrified.

“Hey…” I mumbled quietly as I took another couple tentative steps forward, “What’s wrong, kid?”

He just started at me in utter panic, not daring to respond.

“I promise I won’t hurt you. Come on—tell me what’s wrong?” I offered again. Finally, he seemed to relax a bit.

“They’re dead,” He whimpered, “Mom and Dad are dead. I… I’m scared.”

The statement hit far too close to home for me and it took a bit of self-control to keep myself from breaking down right then and there. It wouldn’t be very good for the little boy if I, very much a full-grown man at the wonderful age of twenty, suddenly started to bawl and cry my eyes out over seemingly nothing.

“You don’t have anywhere to go?” I asked quietly, earning a nod as an answer. A small smile spread across my face as I stood up, offering a hand to help him up as well, “Of course you do. Come on—there’s a place for people like us, y’know? People that have lost everything. They’ll give you a room and you’ll make a bunch of friends there, I think.”

He was reluctant to believe me, I could tell. But I couldn’t blame him for that. It was hard to trust anyone in the City when they posed you an offer seemingly too good to be true. But, at long last, he reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling himself up by it. I grinned, tugging him along with me eagerly. The forced—or was it really forced? I couldn’t rightly tell—happiness was the only thing driving my mind at the moment, to keep me from reverting back to useless old memories of days long past.

“What’s your name?” I asked cheerily, heading back to the sidewalk, “Mine’s Shoji.”

“Elias,” The boy mumbled, seemingly confused by how happy I looked, “Um.. Thanks.”

“No need to thank me,” I replied mechanically, continuing on back on the same route when something occurred to me. I stopped in my tracks and looked down at the somewhat smaller boy, biting my bottom lip. He looked back up at me, just as confused as before.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I shook my head, suddenly and carefully dropping down to one knee to look Elias in the eyes, “I’m going to ask you something, and you’re going to answer me truthfully, alright? Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter what your answer is. I’ll still take you back to Home and make sure they find a place for you. So don’t lie, because it’s very important.”

He paused, but then nodded his consent slowly.

“Elias, are you infected with the Virus?” I asked in all but a whisper. The little boy seemed shocked for a moment, but then slowly shook his head.

“I don’t have it, I swear,” He stated weakly.

“Good,” I sighed in relief, taking one of his hands and holding up his arm, “I have something for you.”

Carefully, I pulled out the syringe I’d had placed in my pocket. Even if he wasn’t infected at present, to give him the Vaccine would make sure he never got it. The little plastic tube apparatus in my hand was easily recognized even by the younger boy. His jaw dropped and he stared at me as if I was insane.

“I just got this today. I’m sure you know what it is already,” Elias gave a weak nod yet again and I continued, “I’m already incurable, so this Vaccine wouldn’t be any use to me. I want to give it to you, but you have to promise me something. A long time ago, a friend of mine told me that we’d get out of this City one day. He died four years ago, and I’m likely to die anywhere from the next few weeks to the new few years, so I doubt I’ll ever see the outside world. You’ve got to promise me that you’ll get out of here some day. Takashi’s promise failed us both, but maybe it’ll still count for something if you fulfill it, right?”

It took me a second to realize that my happy front had fallen through as the tears started rolling down my cheeks. But Elias only smiled at me and reached out, whipping away at the tears on my cheeks. Even just that one little motion reminded me of how Takashi and I had been so innocent when we were growing up, despite the horror that we grew up around.

“Don’t cry,” He whispered, “I promise I’ll get out of this place, for you.”

I smiled despite the tears, nodding my approval, before I carefully maneuvered my arm around to press the end of the needle into the younger boy’s forearm like an expert. I pretty much was an expert at giving shots, seeing as I’d had to give them to myself many times back at Home for all the pain-managing medicines that had to be taken intravenously. He winced at the initial pain, but I knew the tears that started to well up in his eyes weren’t caused by pain.

“Thanks, Elias. You… don’t know how much this means to me, and how much it would mean to Takashi,” I sniffled, wiping at my eyes with my wrist before standing up again. I threw the empty syringe to the side and grabbed his hand again, resuming our walk back to Home.

Maybe I found happiness again right then when I realized that, maybe, the dream and hope Takashi and I had shared would possibly be realized through the young boy beside me? Even if he was gone and if I would quite possibly be gone whenever he escaped, it still made me feel happy to think about it, which was something I really needed.

There wasn’t any doubt in my mind that Elias would reach the outside world one day, either. There was no way he would let down on his end of the deal. Even just knowing the little boy for about ten minutes, I was certain he would be free one day and live the life Takashi had promised us.

Yes, I could definitely die happily now. I could go back to Takashi in whatever afterlife there was and be truly happy again, in a world free of pain and sorrow. Not only would Elias one day be free in the living world, but also Takashi and I would finally find that freedom we had wanted together, finding it only in death.

And I knew I would be seeing him again soon. I couldn’t wait to have his arms around me again and to taste his lips against mine which I had missed for such a long time.

Persevering everything life could throw at us, and even transcending death, I knew our love would go on. Emotions as strong as these could never just be blown out like a candle in the wind, especially not love. Especially not our love.