A/N: I'm an angst-whore. And that is my only excuse :)

Osteosarcoma, a cancerous tumor that occurs in the bones in adolescents and young adults. Mostly common in males. Terminal, deadly, aggressive. Symptoms: pain, swelling, redness,limited movement, and fracturing of the bones.

Ivan sat there, letting the information wash over him like a heavy blanket. His face was carefully composed and as blank as the face of the man sitting next to him, holding his hand.
Spreading to other parts of the body. Lungs. Too late for surgical removal.

Ivan closed his eyes.

Options, chemotherapy. Survival expectancy, 3%.

"How long?" Alfred's voice was uncharacteristically calm and serious. The sound of it made Ivan's stomach clench.

The doctor hesitated and Ivan hated him for it. Hated him for the horrible diagnosis. Hated him for the calmness of his voice as he explained how the disease would take away the only person Ivan has ever truly loved.

Hated himself for not being able to do anything about it.

"Three months, four at most," the doctor finally replied.

Ivan felt his heart cracking.

The first step was letting everyone else know. Cancer is a topic well-known, but no one ever thinks that it may happen to them. No one ever even thought of it happening to someone like Alfred. Bad things only happened to other people. Not to you, not your family, or your friends. But it can, and for Alfred, it did.

Ivan stepped out when Arthur and Matthew arrived. He could hear their muted voices through the door. Alfred's, calm and soft as he explained his situation. Arthur's, shrill and distressed as he shouted questions. He could hear Matthew weeping.

When they left, Arthur pulled Ivan to the side. He sighed inwardly, the Englishman didn't like him at the best of times, and these were not good times.

"What do you want?" Ivan snapped, the stress of the day rushing back to him and setting off his temper. Any time not spent with Alfred was time being horribly wasted.

Arthur's eye's were red-rimed, giving his green eyes an even more piercing appearance. Ivan expected the man to shout, to rant and rave, to take his anger out on him for his son's illness, but he merely stood there, staring.

Ivan opened his mouth to speak, then closed it when the words didn't come. What could he say?

"Take care of him," Arthur finally said, voice hoarse.

Ivan blinked in surprised. He almost made a sharp remark about how Arthur's presence was keeping him from taking care of Alfred, but found he simply didn't have the energy, so he simply nodded.

Arthur shuffled on his feet, suddenly looking lost. "Yes, well...very good then." His eyes filled with tears. "I don't know what I...what I mean is...he..Alfred, that is...oh God..."

The smaller man broke down, sobbing loudly and unashamed of the tears streaming down his face. Ivan felt a strange urge to comfort the man, so he stepped forward and allowed the Englishman to sob into his shoulder. Normally, Ivan would've found the contact awkward and claustrophobic, but now, he felt nothing but a crushing sadness.

After Arthur had left, Ivan returned inside to a waiting Alfred. For a moment, the two just stared at each other. Then, with a cry, Alfred launched across the room, buried himself in the Russian's coat, and sobbed. Ivan wrapped his arms around his lover, lifting him easily (too easily, Ivan grimly noted) and carried him to the couch where he sat and placed Alfred leaning against his chest.

As Alfred leaned his head back and light blue eyes met violet, Ivan felt the days events truly sink in.

Alfred had cancer and only a few months to live. Alfred, his Alfred, would soon be gone from this world. Ivan buried his head in Alfred's blonde hair, smelling the shampoo he used, knowing that soon he will never smell it again.

"I do not want you to go," he whispered, voice sounding broken as he pulled the man tighter against his broad chest and wiped the tears off the other's face. He slipped his hand under the hem of Alfred's shit and let his palm lie above his heart, feeling it's steady beat.

Alfred took a deep breath and allowed the tension to leach out of him. He turned and leaned up, placing a light kiss on Ivan's lips. Ivan could taste both of their tears.

"I'm not gone yet," Alfred whispered back.

The three months slipped away, no matter how much Ivan wished it would stop.

Alfred's condition got worse. He was losing weight at an alarming rate and he was weak and doing the most simple tasks became a struggle. The worst was the pain. Many times, Ivan had walked into the room to find his lover curled up and trembling with agony. During those time's, Ivan would throw himself around Alfred, kiss his forehead, and murmur comforting words until the pain faded. But even as Alfred's agony lessened, the pain in Ivan's heart grew with every passing day. There were time's when Alfred seemed to be getting better, he would go days with easy movement and no pain, but they were short lived.

Despite everything, Alfred refused the chemotherapy, no matter how much Ivan begged him to reconsider.

"It's not going to help in the end, Ivan!" he exclaimed. "I won't spend the rest of my life cooped up in a damn hospital!"

And that was all there was to say on the matter.

Alfred insisted on carrying out life as normal. They went out as often as possible, going to parks, restraunts, and anything else they could think of. When Alfred could no longer easily move, they relaxed around their home. They watched movies, Ivan cooked, Alfred ate what he could, everything as normal. The cancer wasn't brought up even though it was consuming both of their thoughts. It became their taboo subject, a line that wouldn't be crossed until the end.

Half way into the fourth month, Alfred stopped breathing.

Ever since the diagnosis, Ivan had been watching his lover like a hawk. Helping when he could, but not so much as to damage Alfred's pride. When the pain wouldn't let Alfred sleep, Ivan wouldn't sleep either. When Alfred couldn't eat, Ivan went without as well.

So, when Alfred's lungs stopped allowing him to draw in air, Ivan was there in an instant, performing CPR until he could breathe on his own.

Alfred took a deep breath, his weakened frame shuddering from the effort.

I'm dying, he thought.

Ivan watched, his eyes never leaving Alfred's face and he clearly saw what the other man was thinking.

He's slipping away from me, Ivan thought. He jerked his head around to hide the tears pooling in his eyes.

Five months.

Ivan walkws into the room to find Alfred had fallen asleep for the sixth time that day. He lowered himself onto the bed and gently wrapped his arms around Alfred's small body.

The man practically radiated sickness. His hair was thin and his skin was white as a sheet. His breathing was labored and his face was as hollow as his eyes. Ivan knew that they didn't have much time left. Alfred had already lasted longer than the doctor's thought he would and had managed to pull though the worst pain. Even with a terminal disease, his Alfred was fighting with everything he had.

Ivan let out a shaky breath. Five months since Alfred's diagnosis. Five months of seeing the man he loved erode away to nothing. During those months, Ivan had not allowed his emotions to show through. Never allowed Alfred to see, just how much this was destroying them both.

Now, in the darkness of their room and with Alfred asleep, Ivan let his mask slip. His face crumpled in on itself as the suffocating sadness and dread claimed him. He closed his eyes and wept silently, tears streaming down his face and soaking into Alfred's T-shirt.

He opened his eyes in surprise when Alfred slowly turned him self, with obvious effort, around to face him.

"I'm sorry," Ivan gasped, trying to control the torrent of tears, and failing. "I'm so, so sorry, Alfred. I-"

His sentence was cut off as Alfred raised a shaky hand and ran it though Ivan's ashy hair. "I know, love," he rasped as he gently pressed their lips together. "I know."

"I cannot help you," Ivan cried. "There is nothing I can do, no way for me to protect you."

"That's not true," Alfred murmured, feeling tears come to his own eyes as well. "You are the only reason I bother, Ivan. The only reason I haven't slipped away. And I am so grateful. Thank you, I owe you so much."

They stayed like that for a while, Alfred weakly tracing circles in Ivan's hair and kissing away the tears that continued to stream down the Russian's face. No matter how hard Ivan tried, the tears simply wouldn't stop.

"I am sorry," he whispered again.

He could feel Alfred smiling softly against his temple. When he spoke his voice was heavy with sadness. "No, Ivan. I'm the one who need's to be apologizing. I am very, very sorry, my love. I'm so sorry that this is happening to us. So don't apologize, because that's my job. It's not your fault and it never will be."

But it was, to Ivan at least. He had noticed that Alfred had been having pain in his arms, noticed the swelling, but he had dismissed it as an ordinary injury. If he had paid more attention, tried more, maybe this wouldn't be happening. How could he be sitting here crying, when he wasn't the one in pain? When he wasn't the one dying? He needed to be strong, not only for Alfred, but for himself as well. Because he could feel himself breaking, splintering away into nothing.

He would not survive this any more than Alfred would.

Alfred was going to die, and in a sense, Ivan was going to die right along side of him.

Five months, one week.

I'm going to die today. The thought brought nothing but relief to Alfred. He could feel it, the end. It was a darkness that was slowly creeping at the edge of his vision, getting closer as the day progressed.

Yes, today is the day. The thought brought a smile onto Alfred's lips. He hadn't smiled in a long time.

Not that he wanted to die. No, Alfred wished with everything he had that he could survive this. But he new he couldn't. Not with the way the cancer had ravaged his body.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to leave. He would miss his home, his city, his friends.

He would miss Ivan.

Ivan Braginski. The man who had come to define everything important in his life. The man who was once his enemy and rival, but now was his roommate, his best friend, and the love of his life. His first, and his last.

Alfred was sick, but he wasn't blind. He could see that Ivan was dying just as much as he was. Could see how hard the man was trying to hind it. Alfred wished he wouldn't. But he knew that was Ivan's way of holding himself together, that Ivan needed to bury the emotion deep to keep himself from falling.

Alfred wouldn't pretend to know exactly how the other man felt. He could only imagine how he would feel if their roles were reversed. If Ivan were the one dying and he was the one forced to watch.

Alfred knew that his death would be a release for them both.

He dragged his eyes up as he heard Ivan enter the room.

The man shuffled closer, his strange, purple eyes looking exhausted and grief-stricken. "Are you comfortable? Do you hurt anywhere? Can I do anything for you?"

Alfred didn't respond, he just continued to stare.

Once again, Ivan's mask slipped as his face crumpled. "No," he said firmly as he moved closer to where Alfred was on the couch.

Alfred grasped Ivan sleeve and tugged, the small movement costing the man obvious effort. Ivan sat down and pulled Alfred into his lap, allowing the man small frame to lie against his chest. Ivan pulled his signature scarf from around his neck and rewound it around Alfred's neck.

"I'm ready, and today's the day" Alfred croaked.

Ivan drew in a sharp breath at the words. He opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it. He knew it was the truth. He could hear it in Alfred's voice and could see it in his face.

So instead, he buried his face in Alfred's neck, his emotions playing clearly across his face. His sadness, his regret, his despair. "I love you," he said.

"I love you too. I always will," Alfred twisted his head and kissed his one and true love.

Time seemed to stop for both of them. The kiss was the best they'd ever had. Slow, unhurried, passionate, and full of words neither of them had the strength to say.

When they finally separated, they both just looked at each other. Both unconcerned with the tears streaming down both of their faces.

Ivan felt his all-consuming grief return. "How...how am I supposed to continue?"

Alfred let out a small sigh of sadness. "You will," he rasped. "I know you will. You're so strong, and you have people who love you. Let them help you, let them talk to you and get you through this. I believe you. Ya veryu v tebya."

Ivan's perked up at the sound of Alfred speaking Russian, Ivan's mother tongue. He took a moment to replay the words in his head. Alfred had always sounded beautiful when he spoke Russian.

He tuned back in as Alfred's voice suddenly got stronger and more firm. "You must get through this. Do you hear me? Do not do anything stupid, Ivan. Please, for me, but more importantly, for yourself. Okay? Don't let me be the one who destroys you."

Ivan let Alfred's words sink in for a moment. He didn't know what he would do after Alfred died. After the light in his life was snuffed out. He was more than ready to allow himself to fall into despair and never come out. But he would try. He would try for Alfred. "I will miss you," he whispered hoarsely.

Alfred smiled sadly, feeling death come closer as he started losing feeling in his body.
He felt Ivan press his lips against his ear. "Ya budu vsegda lyubit tebya."

Alfred drew on the last of his strength. He looked Ivan straight in the face and grinned. His face radiated happiness and love. "Beregi zdorovie."

Alfred allowed the air to slip out of his body and let the darkness take him. Happy that the last thing he say was the face of the man he loved. He closed his eyes.

Ivan sat there, holding the body of his love, tears streaming unnoticed down his face. Gazing at Alfred's pale face, having been tightened in pain for so long, now calm, peaceful and beautiful as ever.

Author's notes: Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated :)

Translations: Russain

Ya veryu v tebya - I believe in you.

Ya budu vsegda lyubit tebya - I will always love you.

Beregi zdorovie - Take care.