Hey! I made this because I had a dream last night about this. Hope you enjoy! Request and review! Line break means jump in time.

"When are you going to get out of the house?"

"When you shut up." He thinks over his words, and he quickly apologizes. "I'm sorry. Don't leave me."

"That is the problem! I am going have to go sometime," I say as I watch him twirl his spoon in his bowl, moving the cereal to one side.

"Why? Don't you love me?" He looks up. His eyes are suddenly misty, and I press my lips together in anger.

"Don't be stupid. You know I do," I assure him, and he smiles and goes back to moving his food in the dish rather than moving it in his mouth.

"If you love me, why do you need to leave?" I don't respond because I know where this conversation goes. It goes nowhere, and all it does is tire him out. He is already so tired.

He gets up and throws out his leftovers in the trash. He walks over to the sink and washes his dishes while I remain at the table, watching him. "Mom called when you were in the shower. She is worried about you," I tell him. He stops what he is doing briefly, before continuing his scrubbing.

"She shouldn't be. I'm fine." I take in account the weight loss, how his skin is more pale than it should be, how his eyes are hollow, how sluggish his movements are, and I hold back what I want to say. No, you are not fine. Not even close.

We are lying in bed. I stroke his cheek while he rests his eyes. He likes for me to always touch him, but that is all it is for me because I can only touch him. I can't feel. And there is something about not getting what you really want that erodes your heart little by little, but since he wants me to do it, I ignore my pain and concede to his will.

"You should go to the doctor," I whisper to him. He peeks at me, and then his eyelashes flutter back down.

"Why?" I remove my hand from him. His eyes snap open, alert for the first time today.

"You know why. You can't be like this. You are wasting away," I try to emphasize by pointing at his withering body. He doesn't say anything. He just turns his head. It is not until we are both slipping into darkness when I hear a mumble of, "That's what I'm waiting for."

"It's Friday." He doesn't move or act like he heard me, but I know he does. "She is going to be here soon."

"So?"

"Go get ready. You can't meet her with sweats and a tattered shirt. She is your fiancé." I stress out. He scoffs at me.

"No, she is not," he protests, but he gets up from the couch. "Help me change?" He asks. I stand and follow him to his room. I don't really help. I just watch as he slides on a dress shirt and some black slacks. About the time he finishes, the doorbell sounds off. "Are you coming?" I shake my head, and after a moment, he goes to answer the door.

I fall onto the bed. I try not to listen to their talking, but the walls are thin, and I've already heard their exchange multiple times. She wonders how he is doing while he lies through his teeth. The same routine until she excuses herself after an hour or so, stating that she has to get to work. Same old, same old. I'm hoping that one day, she will change him. Hoping that she will help him not need me anymore. And dreading but mostly hoping.

The door creaks open as he comes into the bedroom. He sheds his clothing, only keeping his boxers on as he drops onto the bed to join me. I immediately run my fingers through his hair. We keep quiet until I speak up. "You should eat something. You haven't had anything in your stomach since yesterday morning."

"I'm not hungry." He yawns and leans his head into my hand.

"What did she bring this time?" I question him, suspicious about his behavior.

"…Lasagna." He hesitates to answer me.

I'm an suddenly angry. "It's food, Sebastian. It's not a thing that is going to bring me back!" He rolls away from me, and my feelings of anger dissipate. "Promise me that tomorrow you will eat something." But he starts to drift as do I, and I can do nothing to stop it.

"Birthday is coming soon," I drawl out as he pours milk into his Frosted Flakes.

"I know." He sits across from me and begins to push his food around again.

"You are going, right? Mom wants you to be there." I am sure we are both having the same thought of 'I want you to be there'. He nods. "Let's do something today. We can watch TV or something." It is a weak offer that he won't take because he hasn't yet. He only wants to watch me. He only wants to be locked up in this place with me. I hate that I love it when he says that.

"I'm tired." He lays his head on the table, and I reach out to rub my thumb against his hand. His bones are starting to protrude more and more.

"Of course, you are."

"Surprise!" We hear as we open the door. Friends fill the house, all with smiles. All with sympathy clinging to their skin until they can pass it on to him. I glance at his face, and he has an awkward grin in place, but at least he is trying to be happy. That is all I can ask for.

"Honey, I missed you! I'm sorry for not coming to visit more often. Work is keeping me more busy than I anticipated. Good distraction, though," she finishes quietly. She lifts her hands to cup his cheeks. Her eyes began to tear up. "You don't look good, Sebastian. He wouldn't want you like this. You need to..." She stops as he begins to close himself up. "I just don't want to lose you, too. I love you." He nods and moves his head to kiss her palm. She gives him a hug and then ushers him off to go mingle. He does for a while, but he escapes the party by heading up the stairs and going inside a room.

The walls are covered with pictures of our childhood. Of our achievements, our friends, our adventures, just of us. This room holds our very essence. He starts to cry as he crawls his way to the top bunk. I trail after him, and when I am next to him, I pat his back as he sobs.

"Happy nineteenth," He peers at me, tears cascading down as he hears my words.

"Happy nineteenth," he counters as he lets out a cry.

"Nightmare?" I wonder as he wakes up screaming and crying. He clutches at himself, and I rub my hand against his thigh.

"No," he confirms in a broken voice. He tries to grab my hand, but he can't. He cries some more at that revelation, just like always. I wipe away his tears as I say, "Oh."

He is practically lazy today. More than usual, and a part of me is scared. The other part is…I don't know.

We are still in bed. We face each other, and I can see every change this year has done to him. He is no longer vibrant. He is diluted, faded, and contorted. "I love you." With those three words, he comes alive for a second. But then he looks at me, really looks at me, and his light disappears.

He doesn't say it back. We both know how much he loves me without him saying it. It is the reason why I am here with him. The reason why he is worsening. Instead, he talks about it. "Why did you do it?" I don't want to reply. It is only going to make him sad.

"You really need to take your anti-depressants," I avoid his question as best as I can. I know he won't take his medicine. It makes me harder to stay with him, and he doesn't want me to be away from him.

"Why did you do it?" He repeats with vigor. I sigh, knowing he won't just let this go like he has in the past.

"Because I love you." It's the truth, but he doesn't like what I have to say. Not one bit as he turns his back to me. "It's not your fault. What happened, it's not your fault. That I love you, not your fault either." My only response I get is of him forcing himself to sleep, forcing me to withdraw as well.

"Sebastian, it's today. Are you going to go?" He puts his pillow over his head, but I can see the slight movement, indicating that he does not want to. "It would me a lot to me if you did." He doesn't move. "Please. Maybe this will make it easier for you." He reacts.

"I don't want it to be easy! You are gone. I don't need a grave to remind me! I don't need to be around everybody. I just need you." He is breathing wildly now, and he is shaking. He is crying. I go over to him, and I hold him. "Why couldn't it have been me?" He tries to hold me back, but he can't. I release a sigh.

"It just happened, Sebastian. It was my time to go." My words upset him even more. "You know, you were always the lucky twin," I joke. He weeps even harder.

He doesn't go to my grave site.

"Mom was right. I don't want you like this. I just want you to move on," I try again to no effect.

"What is heaven like?" He abruptly asks. His attention, like always, is on me.

"I don't know. I never been. You won't let me go," I state a little too harshly. He laughs, like he is satisfied by that thought, and he probably is. If I were to go, I wouldn't come back. "Besides, I don't think I am going there anyways."

"Why?" His voice, though faint, is full of curiosity.

"Don't you know that sodomy and incest is frowned upon?" He gets this thoughtful look, and he laughs again. I join him glad he is being more lively. It doesn't last for long, but like an idiot, I am hopeful.

He is starting to cough up blood. He turned against his body, so now his body is turning against him. I beg him to go to hospital, but he ignores me. All he wants is for me to touch him, and I do. I don't have the power to make him well, just to make him sick. And he is really sick.

"Sebastian, don't leave mom alone. You are all that she has left," I plead with him while I pet his face.

"You left me." That is all he says, and the guilt is breaking me apart just like it is doing to him.

The end is coming soon. I can feel it. My presences is so much stronger than it was in the beginning. The stronger he is, the weaker I am and vice versa. So now that he is slowly killing himself, I can actually feel a little. I don't touch him as much because I am apprehensive that if he finds out, he will hasten his death.

"She is going to be here any second. As her fiancé, you have an obligation to live," I try to persuade him.

"I think this will be the last time I say this. She is not my fiancé. I love her, but I am not in love with her. I am only in love with one person. You. It has always been you," he declares. And I know. That he loves me. I know she is not his anything, but our childhood friend since we were four. It was just wishful thinking that maybe, she will get him to stay alive, to forget me.

"Please, Sebastian. Live. For me."

"Why? You didn't." He goes to answer the front door after that. They talk for a while. Longer than before, and I know what is happening out there. He is giving her a memory of him being normal because this will be the last time she sees him breathing. He is saying his last goodbye.

"Go to work. Maybe if you went, it will get your mind off of me."

"How? We worked together. In the same office. Side by side," he rejects my idea.

"Maybe in the next life we shouldn't spend too much time with each other." He opens his eyes. "In the next life, we should just be born as brothers." He tears up.

"Maybe next time, you would just let me get shot." He effectively leaves me speechless.

"It is not too late, Sebastian. You can still get better." It is his turn to keep his mouth shut. "You know, statistics show that there are five people that look like me in the world."

"Your point?"

"You should go look for them."

"…I already have you," he cheekily replies. "I didn't fall for your looks. They didn't hurt, but you know why I love you. Twin telepathy, remember?"

"I remember."

He is sentimental today. He is reminiscing about our past. Mostly about our first times. First confession, first date, first kiss, first touch, first to make love. All of our big moments in our relationship until the last moments of my life.

"You were so excited. You couldn't talk about anything besides going to the jeweler. The whole day you were blushing just thinking of what I might be getting you. You knew, right? That I was going to propose?" I nod. There is a stinging in my eyes, but since I can't cry, it is just painful. Same goes for the lump in my throat. "I have been working so hard to save up money for it. I know we wouldn't really get married, but it was proof to others that you were taken. That you were mine and that was enough. Wasn't it?" He is starting to have trouble speaking. He is losing his energy. I nod again. "Thinking about it now, it was stupid and selfish. I should just bought it by myself and proposed at some romantic place. I shouldn't have made you go."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know that it was going to be robbed." I try to convince him for the last time.

"It doesn't matter now. We are going to be together soon."

He is holding my hand. He can touch me. He can feel me. I am both content and forlorn about it because though I missed this, I know he is going to die today. I don't want him to die.

"It is working, huh? I can feel you skin again. It's a little rough, but that could because me," he breaks out in a cough when he tries to laugh. "Do you think if we kissed, we could feel it?" He doesn't allow me to think about his query. He just leans in and press our lips together. And though I can't feel his lips, I do feel pressure. It is more than I could have ever pray for. "I love you. So much. I love you too much. I'm sorry I can't live without you. I just can't. Forgive me, okay?" "Yeah. I love you too." He kisses me again, and as his time depletes, I begin to fizzle out.

"No! Please, stay with me. Don't go. Don't leave me. Please! I love you. I love you! Please!" I can barely hear his pleas. There is so much pain, and I don't think I will last long. "You promised. Together, forever. You promised me, Ciel! Don't leave me alone. Please. I love you, Ciel. Please." I make my eyes open. We are both crying. I smile, trying to make this all right for the both of us. It doesn't.

"Yeah, I love you too." And with my last bit of strength, I lift my head and give him one last kiss.