I own only the plot line
He walked into the bar. Specifically, the bar he was told to stay away from. It was known for the huge fights and occasional fires and riots that took place on the property. Any other day, he would have avoided it, but today he simply didn't care.
He had just walked a couple blocks from the hospital. The disease that had killed off all of his immediate family and some extended family on his mother's side had finally infected him. He had weeks at best.
He ordered something strong. The bartender gave a nod and walked away to make the monstrosity that was sure to get him nice and drunk. He stared at the mints and peanuts debating whether or not he should brave them. He'd heard the statistics on how much urine those things contained. He decided he would have some. He was bitterly reminded of the term YOLO, which his little cousin, Amelia, used to say all the time. Before she died. Like he would. He received the drink when the bartender brought it and took a sip, cringing at the burn it caused in the back in his throat.
A young woman approached the bar and took a seat beside him. He made no move to acknowledge her and her, him. She ordered something equally as strong as he did, but upon receiving it, threw it back and ordered another one for herself and her "friend." At this she gestured to him. He made a move to reject her offer, but was shut up at the look she threw him.
"Maka." She spoke.
"Soul." He responded. They sat in silence for hours and at closing time stood to leave. He curtly nodded and began the walk to the door.
"Hey Mister, chin up. It's gonna be okay."
And for no reason in particular, he believed her.
**Note: If you've been living under a rock and don't know what YOLO means, it's 'you only live once.' Thanks for reading ^_^