Alfred F. Jones was driving on a lonely road on a dark night, not to mention that there was a raging blizzard mere inches from his skin, only kept away by the car's metal exterior. The heat was up as far as it could go, and yet he was still shivering. He was clammy and pale, burning up with a fever, yet he felt cold. Not a good sign. He didn't consider going back to his house to lay in his bed and relax, such a thing didn't even cross his mind.

You see, poor Alfred needed help, bad. He hadn't ever been sick before, and didn't know how to handle it. He didn't know how being sick felt, so he didn't know that this was worse than a cold. It was far, far worse than that. So, not being of sound mind because of his illness, he had climbed into his car to drive over to Arthur's house. Arthur had been sick before, so he'd know what to do, he thought.

Arthur Kirkland was Alfred's boyfriend. They had gotten in an argument a few days before he had fallen ill and hadn't made up, so the smaller man wasn't taking his calls. He had called him eight times and each time the dial tone was cut off after half of a ring. His fingers were shaking too hard for him to send a legible text message, so that wasn't an option either. Driving was though.

It was practically a white out in front of him, he couldn't see anything. His eyelids felt heavy and so did his arms, he could barely keep the car on the road. So, Alfred slammed on the brakes, knowing that he couldn't possibly drive any further. Once he stopped, he crawled into the backseat and grabbed a blanket from the back, curling up and falling asleep.

The next morning, he vaguely heard banging on the car door, but it was distant. It sounded like and echo. More distant sounds of shuffling, like someone was wiping snow off of the car, more banging, louder now. A muffled voice, "Oh god...oh god...Is he okay? What am I gonna do?" Again and again and again, Alfred fell asleep and woke up to the distant noises and feelings. He didn't know what was going on, but he did somewhat remember hearing a siren, and maybe some red lights. But soon he was completely out of it.

He woke up in the dark, but then he figured that was because his eyes were closed. Slowly, steadily, he pried his eyelids open to see the white ceiling. Looking around, he found himself in a hospital room, an oxygen mask was over his mouth to help his breathing. He could hear the strange sounds of machinery in the room.

Alfred's eyes settled on the outside of the room, which he could see through the glass wall. Arthur was talking with a doctor, Alfred's own coat in his boyfriend's shaking hands. Arthur nodded a few times, looking like he was about to cry, and Alfred couldn't tell why.

A nurse walked in and smiled when she saw that he was awake. "Can I get you anything, sir?" She asked politely.

He murmured almost inaudibly, but she heard him, "Arthur..."

"Who is...?" She asked, clearly confused by his request.

Alfred turned his head and looked at said man who was still talking with the doctor. The nurse nodded, "I'll get him for you." She walked out of the room and Alfred watched her as she interrupted the conversation. The doctor looked offended that the nurse had blatantly interrupted him, but Arthur merely looked confused. She spoke a few words then pointed at Alfred through the glass, Arthur turned slowly to see him, meeting Alfred's eyes.

The British man ran into the room and sat in a chair by the bed, gripping his hand tightly. "Alfred...thank god. I-I was so scared...You were almost gone," he gulped and wiped tears away.

A small smile graced Alfred's exhausted face, "You're...here..."

"Of course I am, poppet. I got a bit nervous after all the phone calls, after I had calmed down. I called and sent a ton of texts, but you didn't answer. I got scared, so I decided to drive over, but there was a truck left in the center of the road. I got out to check it out, and I saw that it was yours. I was so-!" He choked on his words, then continued, "I called for an ambulance after breaking your window and trying to wake you. They took you here."

"I got...sick. De...cided to...come over...'cause you would...know what to do. Couldn't drive...any longer, too...sick and the blizz...ard too bad..." He wheezed, coughing at the end.

"I'm so so sorry, Alfy. I should have answered! I should have known that something was wrong!"

"Don't...worry 'bout it...You're here...now," he smiled at him softly, a touch of pain in his expression.

"You're dying," Arthur choked out, tears sliding down his cheeks freely now. "I always thought I was going to be the one to die first...but...no...they're giving you a week. They say that if you want, you can go home to die somewhere familiar. Dammit..." Arthur squeezed his hand, gritting his teeth.

"I've...I've lived a...a happy life...As long as...you stay with me...I'll be fine..."

"I won't. I don't know how I can live without you, bloody git. Don't you ever think about how I feel when you aren't there to make every bloody second of my life worthwhile? No. You don't. You think I'll be fine without you. I WON'T!"

"You can...live...don't think...about living without...me. Think...of living...for me. I'll always be watching...you because...I love you...and if...I was going to...live...I'd ask you...to marry me."

Arthur stared at him through his tears, "And I won't accept without hesitation. Because I love you too. More than life itself."